Apologies for the long delay. Please point out any errors of any type.
Chapter Nine: Antagonism
Selene Katalynia Acacia Moonsong Potter-Snape (though her close friends called her Kat) shook back her shimmering silver locks, her amethyst oculars flashing indignantly.
"What do you mean he's not here yet?" she demanded. "He's my One True Love! He's drawn to me with every fiber of his being. My heart yearns for him." She glared down at the hapless messenger, her hands beginning to glow menacingly.
The messenger, a lesser beauty by the name of Neko Oshiwara, quailed. She ran her perfectly manicured fingers through her bright pink hair and bowed several times.
"Hai, hai, Kat-chan. Don't be angry with me!" Neko couldn't keep just a hint of a chirrup from her voice. "He's in the halls, with that ugly old man and those two weird women."
"With two other women!" Selene's already doe-wide eyes grew even wider. Her hands stopped glowing. She collapsed on a conveniently nearby chair and began to sob. Before she had the chance to work herself up to a really good bout of hysterics, Ravyn Nightkiller stalked in.
Ravyn never walked anywhere, she always stalked; she never smiled, she smirked. Though she didn't have as much in the way of titles as Selene, Ravyn was her equal in power. Or at least that's what she liked to think. Selene personally thought that Ravyn lacked the finesse to match her.
"What've you got the waterworks turned on for now?" she growled, slumping into a chair. She swept her waist-length ebon hair behind an ear and adjusted her glower to be suitably imposing.
Selene was too busy agonizing over her wayward soulmate to notice, and even if she had, she wouldn't have been impressed. Who needed threatening facial expressions when one could call storms out of the sky with a thought?
"My Love is lost!" she cried, flinging a hand against her forehead. If not for her incredible constitution the pale skin there would have been horrendously bruised, she repeated the motion so often.
"What, again?" Ravyn asked sardonically, twirling her wand (thirteen inches, oak, with a special core made of thestral tendon and a griffin's feather that gave her unparalleled power in both the Dark Arts and Transfiguration) idly in her slender fingers.
Selene stopped sobbing long enough to glare at her co-ruler venomously, before remembering the tragedy of the situation and bursting into a new spate of tears.
"He's with those two women who came in. You know, the ugly ones."
Ravyn nodded and stood up, brandishing her wand.
"I'll go take care of them," she said, her smirk widening. "Then you'll have your Tom, and we can work on getting my Lucius."
Selene's hand shot out and gripped Ravyn's wrist with surprising strength for someone supposedly prostrate with grief.
"No, you fool," she hissed, then remembered Neko, who was standing by watching with an interested, vaguely calculating look on her pert face.
"Get out," Selene said, waving Neko away. It didn't do to have one's lessers getting the idea that there was a division in the upper echelon. They tended to get the idea that this constituted weakness. But Selene wasn't weak. She was the most powerful witch in existence, and more importantly among the company she kept, she was also the most beautiful, intelligent, and had the best singing voice. All she needed to do now was find her Love and redeem him from the heinous path he'd been following. Oh, it was so tragic! For lack of love early in his life, he'd pushed away the world, determined that he would cause it to suffer as he had. With her love, he'd surely see the light, and they'd—
Ravyn impatiently cleared her throat and brought Selene out of her reverie.
"You can't go now!" Selene shrieked quietly (one of the many obscure skills she'd mastered to attain her position). "You know that they're a threat, and we can't afford to—"
She stopped herself. She'd been about to say 'we can't afford to lose you right now', but that just didn't seem the politic thing to mention. Selene might have been a naïve, trusting lass with a heart of gold, but it never did to let one's minions know that they were expendable.
"We can't afford to take them on without knowing just how powerful they are," she substituted.
Ravyn glared at her suspiciously, but Selene wasn't unduly worried; Ravyn glared at everyone suspiciously, when she wasn't glaring at everyone menacingly, or cursing small children and fluffy animals.
"They can't be more powerful than us," Ravyn protested. "They can't even sing."
"It never does to underestimate your enemies," Selene lectured, leaning back. "What we need to do is—"
She cut herself off as Neko stuck her head around the corner.
"Yes?" she demanded. "Why are you back? I'd ordered you out."
"A letter addressed to you, Kat-chan," Neko said shyly, stepping forward and proffering the letter.
Selene snatched it eagerly.
"Is it a love letter? An ardent declaration of undying devotion? A… why is there blood on it?" She threw the letter onto a side table in disgust.
Neko shrugged and smiled disarmingly. "Some of the animagi were playing with the owl carrying it. You know how they are."
Oh yes, Selene knew how the animagi were, just like every other member of her little army. Scheming wretches, the lot of them. They'd betray her in a heartbeat if it meant Lucius, or Harry, or Draco, or whoever their Love was would look at them. No doubt they'd been trying to get at her letter.
She picked the letter up again, holding it slightly away from her so as not to ruin her lilac robes, which perfectly complemented her eyes. A cursory check of the seal showed that it was unopened, and she smiled slightly in triumph. Another detail caught her eye. The address to the letter read 'Miss Mary Sue', not 'Selene'. She frowned at the sight.
"They always get my name wrong!" she complained, reaching for a letter opener. She remembered Neko before she opened the letter.
"Leave," she ordered.
The girl scurried out, and Selene turned back to the letter with its insulting name.
"I'm not Mary Sue, I'm Selene," she muttered angrily to herself. "Mary Sue's just such an ugly name, I don't imagine how…" She let her diatribe trail off as she opened the letter and skimmed it quickly. Ravyn scowled at her from her chair, but didn't sacrifice her dignity enough to come and read over her shoulder.
Selene's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in indignation. She balled up the letter (horrid, horrid letter) and threw it across the room with a shriek of rage. A small ceramic mouse on the table by her burst into purple and blue flame.
She sat as still as she could, fists clenched, breathing heavily through her mouth, until her throat relaxed enough for her to speak.
"How dare they," she snarled. "To challenge me, like some common little witch. Me!"
Ravyn looked on, tapping her wandtip against her teeth and smirking.
"What's got your dander up?" she asked at length.
Selene shot to her feet with a cry and started pacing.
"Those awful women have challenged me to a wizard's duel!" she snapped.
"For what?" Ravyn didn't seem terribly upset by the news. Then again, Selene thought, she wouldn't. She'd probably be delighted if Selene was defeated; that way she could kill the women in a rage of supposed grief after they were tired out by fighting Selene, and go on to take over Selene's army. If she played her cards right, she could come out looking like a hero. Selene had no intention of letting her get those cards in the first place.
"Control of Hogwarts," she replied, hoping that Ravyn hadn't noticed her inattention. "If I lose, we have to leave. All of us," she added silkily.
That got Ravyn's attention.
"No! Surely we can negotiate."
Selene stopped her pacing in front of Ravyn and arched one slender brow.
"Why Ravyn, I didn't know you had so little trust in me. Weren't you just saying that those two women are no match for us?"
Ravyn froze for a moment, then reflex took over and a smirk surfaced.
"Nonsense, Selene. You're jumping at shadows. Still, wouldn't it be prudent to make sure that just in case by some strange chance they do turn out to be stronger than us the entire Cause isn't lost with you?" She settled back, confident that her smooth talking had erased Selene's suspicions. Selene gave a small, simpering little smile and fluttered her eyelashes to hide the contempt in those amethyst orbs.
"Of course, Ravyn. How silly of me not to have seen before. I'll see what we can do." She had no intention of doing any such thing. "But you know how unreasonable ugly people can be. It might be rather hard to change their mind," she said quickly.
Ravyn mumbled something unintelligible and probably none too complementary, but didn't protest further. Selene smiled sweetly and flicked her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head.
"What are the other terms of the duel?" Ravyn asked.
Selene gave a dismissing little wave of her hand.
"The usual. As the challenger they decide the time – a month from now – and we decide the place. We can use any powers at our disposal," she replied. She paused and posed artfully, one hand against her chest, the first two fingers of the other lightly touching her mouth. It gave her a look both mischievous and innocent, she thought. A quick glance into one of the many mirrors scattered around the room confirmed it.
"Where shall we set it, Rave darling?"
Ravyn sat up to think, tossing her wand carelessly on the table. She looked up again after a moment with a bright malicious smile. It was a look that would have turned Orla into a gibbering heap. It might have even worried Huff le Puff.
Orla wasn't bothered nearly so much by Alexis' harebrained scheme to rid Hogwarts of Mary Sues as she would have been if she'd known about Ravyn and Selene. She was a bit busy being worried about other things. In the initial chaos of getting installed at Hogwarts, finding her classes, and trying to avoid the carnivorous carpets that roamed the halls she'd been too busy to think about anything else. Then there had been Huff le Puff's reappearance and Alexis' plots. That had all settled down by now; they hadn't received any reply to Alexis' letter, and the le Puff front had been blessedly silent. So Orla's mind, deciding that she was getting to complacent and, Merlin forbid, normal, had reminded her that she had many more things to be afraid of than le Puff. Like gnomes.
She couldn't go to sleep for thinking about them creeping up on her in bed. The bed was tall, but they could easily climb up the curtains. And then there would come the crunch, and that excruciating pain. She'd taken to spending the night in an armchair with Gnasher's cage nearby. Not even her deathly fear would persuade her to take him into bed with her; he smelled like rotten meat. Never mind how many times she shoved him spitting and scratching into the showers, he managed to stink himself back up by the next day.
That was why she was blearily eyeing the margarine, trying desperately to keep her eyes open at breakfast. Her head dipped forward, and she barely yanked it back in time to stop it from dunking into her cereal.
Alexis regarded her primly from over the top of a massive textbook on magizoology.
"Orla, really," she said. "Don't you think you should try and get at least a little sleep? This phobia of yours is truly—"
Alexis' voice was drowned out as the mail, or rather the mail-carriers, swooped in as they did every morning. Orla stared up at them, grateful for an excuse to ignore Alexis, who might be a dear friend, but was also a terrible lecturer once she got going.
To her surprise, one of the birds separated from the rest and headed for her. She blanched when she saw just whose bird it was. The owl headed for her in a kamikaze dive, backwinging only in the foot before it hit the table. It came to a halt in the middle of Orla's plate, spraying her with syrup and crumbs.
Orla eyed the bird askance, pushing her chair away from the table. The owl stared right back at her, tawny eyes baleful. Grudgingly, it extended the leg with a letter tied to it. Orla undid the fastenings quickly, expecting to feel its beak at any second. Once the letter was detached, the bird launched itself back into the air without another glance, shedding feathers on the table. Jared fished one out of his juice and laid it neatly on Orla's plate, his nose wrinkling.
"Whose bird was that?" he asked, nudging his plate away.
"My aunt's," Orla replied, staring glumly at the letter. It looked innocent, but she knew that once opened it would explode, or scream at her, or do something else as unpleasant as its sender.
"Open it, Orla," Alexis commanded absently.
The bell for first period rang then, mercifully. Orla stuffed the letter into her bag and hurried off towards Professor Lupin's classroom without waiting for Alexis or Jared. She had no desire to be bothered about her aunt, or the letter she'd received. Alexis would doubtless claim that it was another of Orla's unresolved fears. She was probably right, but she would go on to advise something as idiotic as standing up to Arane as the solution. Orla preferred her mind and hide in one piece.
For all of her determination to forget about it, the letter bothered her all morning. She swore she could feel it waiting for her in her bag; it seemed to have developed a malevolent presence all its own. All through Defense Against the Dark Arts she worried about it, and consequently did very bad on the blocking charm they were practicing. She ended up accidentally setting her partner, a nice enough boy, even if he was a Gryffindor, tap-dancing uncontrollably when she tried it on him.
In Potions they were taking a test, and Orla couldn't focus any better. Every time she got a start on the chemical conversions they were practicing the thought of the letter popped into her head.
It didn't help that Professor Snape had just stopped behind her and was reading over her shoulder.
"Six grams of powdered belladonna, Miss Quirke?" he murmured. Orla bit back a whimper. "You're trying to put your patient to sleep, not kill them. Though if you're prescribing such a dosage for yourself I could hardly blame you."
Orla hurriedly crossed out her answer and tried to bully her mind into focus. She filled in half of her former answer, and continued working with the niggling feeling that it was still too high, and that she'd get her test back covered with red marks and sarcastic comments.
She struggled through another half hour, then gave up. Her already ragged quill tip found its way to her mouth, where she chewed at it thoughtfully while she looked over her answers. She winced, shrugged, and signed her name in her characteristic illegible scrawl, recognizable only in that it was so indecipherable as to belong to no one else. On her way out the door she tried to avoid Snape's glare.
At lunchtime she gave up. Rather than head down to the Great Hall, she returned to the Rookery. It was nearly empty, most of the Ravenclaws being either at the meal or in the library proper, which suited Orla perfectly. She dug the letter out of her pack at placed it on one of the small study desks that littered the common room. It looked harmless, and Orla didn't think Arane would include a hex or curse in a letter, but it paid to be careful.
She broke the letter's seal and jumped back in case it exploded, or something with long teeth jumped out. The letter just sat there. So far so good. The next step was to take the fire poker and carefully lift the first flap. Nothing. She could see the first few lines of Arane's thick-stroked handwriting.
Still clutching the poker in one hand, she advanced upon the letter and picked it up hesitantly. It remained inert in her hand. Orla steeled herself and sat down to read.
Orla,
As you have not seen it fit to write me, I've taken the burden of communication upon myself. Your mother has informed me that you've been relegated to Ravenclaw which, I suppose, is the best you could hope for, it being quite obvious that you have neither the cunning nor drive suitable for Slytherin. May I remind you that though you have been Sorted into the house for those who are entirely taken with their own wit, it does not impart to you any mystical growth in intellect. If you do not apply yourself in your studies, steps will be taken to ensure your diligence when you come home. I will expect a reply to this letter within a week, or you may expect to face my distinct displeasure.
Arane
Orla leaned back, too shocked to speak. Her aunt hadn't done anything worse than make a few veiled threats and throw an insult or two around. In fact, she had been practically nice, in a typically nasty Arane way. She hadn't even taken more than a token jab at Orla's intelligence.
Orla suddenly felt ravenous. She shoved the letter into a pocket and bounded to her feet and out the portrait hole. Halfway down the hall between the portrait leading to the kitchens and the Great Hall itself she caught sight of Alexis and waved.
Alexis stared at her, open mouthed.
"What's gotten into you?" she demanded when Orla skipped down the stairs to meet her. "You're so… happy."
Orla opened her mouth to reply, then felt her throat freeze up. The color drained from her face as she caught sight of Huff le Puff and her cronies walking down the hall towards them. They were discussing something, le Puff illustrating her part of the conversation with hand gestures that Orla didn't want to interpret, but it was only a matter of seconds before one of them looked up and noticed the students.
She grabbed Alexis by the arm, covered the girl's mouth with her other hand, and ran.