She reached the common room relatively quickly; she tended to memorize
routes the first time she took them, and had little trouble with getting
lost even in the ever-shifting corridors of the wizard school. Past the fat
lady with a quick "batty bumblescrews" (she wasn't sure who came up with
that one; it didn't seem very Percy-ish), she stood in the entrance to the
common room, taking in the scene.
Ron and Hermione she searched out first; they were in a corner with their heads together, and Ron's face was rather red as he mumbled things. Harry and Ginny sat next to each other on the couch, acting generally smitten; Neville attempted to enter their conversation unsuccessfully. Spotting Fred and George, Erin made a quick decision and headed over. They looked up at her in surprise as she approached.
"Hey," she smiled, "Could I ask you guys something?" the mischief- makers nodded assent. "Could you help me, you know train? I don't really have any coordination to speak of." Fred and George looked at each other, and then shrugged.
"Why not?" asked George rhetorically, adding under his breath "Can't get much worse." She grinned, nodding in self-deprecating agreement.
As it turned out, Fred and George were, besides the Slytherin players, the best people she could've asked. Although they succeeded at first in holding back, it wasn't long before the temptation seized them to send errant bludgers in her direction without warning, and to play all sorts of nasty little tricks on her. Once, they even put a spell on the quaffle so it was repelled by contact with human hands; that one had been near impossible until she managed to wedge it between her upper arm and her side. The incident she was perhaps proudest of, though, was when, to dodge two bludgers coming from her right and her left (respectively), she'd done what the twins explained to her was called a "Backways Lever", involving pulling up the handle of one's broom like a lever until it was vertical, then more until you'd turned it another 90 degrees, and you had to hold onto the broom from underneath. That wasn't even the tricky part; the real coup de grace was when Erin had righted herself using the same move in reverse. They seemed particularly pleased after that practice; when she recounted the incident during dinner, a few Gryffindors saw fit to congratulate her. At the first game of the season, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, she was almost sure that she could've caught one of the passes that Hannah Abbot dropped. She kept up training, biding her time. As well, due to a dislike of Divination that she could not suppress, she was hoping for an opportunity to ask Dumbledore about something, and debated with herself when she should do it all week. Making up her mind on Friday afternoon, she approached his office after a particularly wearying Potions class.
"Jumping jellies." She stated clearly. No response from the door. One of the gargoyles muttered something about keeping up-to-date, missy, but did not address her about it. Not very familiar with candies, she rattled off the few she'd heard of, to no avail. Things were looking pretty grim, and she would have left if not for the door opening in front of her at that very moment, McGonagall still exchanging last-minute words with Dumbledore.
"don't know what it is, but they do have something under heavy guard, and I'm afraid it may be--" noticing Erin, McGonagall broke off, and cast Erin one of those looks so terrifying that only a career as a teacher can train one to do it so fearsomely. Erin averted her eyes, and walked past her into Dumbledore's office. When invited she had a seat, even partaking of the offered bowl of Cinnamon Snakes, then regretting it as her mouth began to feel blazing hot. She frantically accepted a cup of tea, which seemed to do the trick (although she spilled a bit in her haste).
"Professor," she had to clear her throat before continuing; the cinnamon was still on its way down, "I've been meaning to ask you about something, something important."
He fixed his attention on her politely.
"They didn't let me stay on because I convinced them of the value of truth or anything, did they? I mean, I saw Trelawney, and with what you said about Divination I could kind of guess."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair. "No, Miss Hightower, you have guessed correctly. The Ministry of Magic, although sympathetic to pleas such as yours, cannot heed them. If we were ever discovered..." he shook his head. "Violet eyes, however, are one of the surest signs of powerful mental power; usually, the inner sight. However," he glanced at her over his half- moon spectacles, "Professor Trelawney informs me that you doubt your abilities – indeed, that you do not appear to be taking her class very seriously at all. I discourage this kind of behavior, Miss Hightower, especially from you."
"No, but that's just it!" Erin tried to control the rising panic evident in her voice. "I can tell things about people but just... just from looking at them, and seeing how they move, and what they're wearing and stuff. I can't do any of the things she expects me to be able to do in class; I can't prophesize any of the ways she's shown us so far!"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed in thought. "Are you sure?" she nodded vigorously. "Oh... dear. Well, your abilities may not lie in the field of divination. Have you had any other experiences where you influenced someone, changed something, or even saw something out of the ordinary?"
Erin started to shake her head, then remembered when Ron had come to talk to her. None of them could move, he said, until the song was over... and even Malfoy was whistling it; to her knowledge, he'd never done anything else half so normal...
"When I," the circumstances suddenly occurred to her, and she blushed, but continued, "After I'd muddled my quidditch tryout, I went somewhere I thought was private, and I, I um, sang. After, I found out my friends from Gryffindor had heard, and Ron said he was kind of, I guess entranced by it. Even Malfoy was whistling it the next day, and I've never known him to whistle before." She looked up. Dumbledore was regarding her thoughtfully.
"That does sound very much like... cantamagi are less common, much less common, their gifts can be so dangerous..."
"I'm a cantamagus? Does that mean I can perform magic through song?"
Dumbledore glanced up at her sharply. "Latin student?" She nodded. "Well, before making any assumptions, would you mind getting me so happy that I leap onto my desk and dance for joy?" Amazingly, Dumbledore seemed serious. She blinked a few times and assented. Tensing, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine Dumbledore dancing a jig on his desk, and would have giggled had the situation not been so solemn – instead, she did the next closest thing. She opened her mouth, and sang the first thing that came out: a wordless tune bursting with joy, a celebration she could feel all through her body, no divine content but rather an almost immature delight, the comedy ecstasy. After a moment, she stopped, hearing a sound she had never heard before, but – she opened her eyes. Dumbledore was clutching his stomache, laughing so hard she wondered if he might have a stroke. He drew a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filling with childlike glee, then collapsed into giggles once again. After a moment, he managed to calm himself sufficiently to trade giggles for mere chuckles; then, finally, he stopped. Taking a few deep breaths to collect himself, he settled again in his chair and faced her.
"Yes, I believe you are a cantamagus, a songmage, although what you are doing isn't drawing from magic within you, like a spell, but changing the world around you – like the difference between magicking a plant to force it to grow and simply exposing it to more sunlight. Now, this voice of yours is a powerful means of suggestion. It can influence others to feel certain emotions, or to do what you want; that night, your song of loneliness must have drawn them to you. It can stay with a person, even eventually drive them insane." Erin's face paled with shock. "Yes, the responsibility is a heavy one. What you have is a dangerous gift. I am counting on you," he paused, staring directly into her eyes, "not to use your gift of persuasion on your fellow students or anyone else here at Hogwarts. You may find it handy in herbology, though," he added with a smile. She gave a questioning look. "When you want to, you can find the tune within you to help your plants grow, to speed them on their way -- even, later in life, manipulate forces of nature, such as sunshine or wind – very slightly."
Erin's mouth hung open.
"Congratulations," he said softly, "You are more than qualified to be here."
Ron and Hermione she searched out first; they were in a corner with their heads together, and Ron's face was rather red as he mumbled things. Harry and Ginny sat next to each other on the couch, acting generally smitten; Neville attempted to enter their conversation unsuccessfully. Spotting Fred and George, Erin made a quick decision and headed over. They looked up at her in surprise as she approached.
"Hey," she smiled, "Could I ask you guys something?" the mischief- makers nodded assent. "Could you help me, you know train? I don't really have any coordination to speak of." Fred and George looked at each other, and then shrugged.
"Why not?" asked George rhetorically, adding under his breath "Can't get much worse." She grinned, nodding in self-deprecating agreement.
As it turned out, Fred and George were, besides the Slytherin players, the best people she could've asked. Although they succeeded at first in holding back, it wasn't long before the temptation seized them to send errant bludgers in her direction without warning, and to play all sorts of nasty little tricks on her. Once, they even put a spell on the quaffle so it was repelled by contact with human hands; that one had been near impossible until she managed to wedge it between her upper arm and her side. The incident she was perhaps proudest of, though, was when, to dodge two bludgers coming from her right and her left (respectively), she'd done what the twins explained to her was called a "Backways Lever", involving pulling up the handle of one's broom like a lever until it was vertical, then more until you'd turned it another 90 degrees, and you had to hold onto the broom from underneath. That wasn't even the tricky part; the real coup de grace was when Erin had righted herself using the same move in reverse. They seemed particularly pleased after that practice; when she recounted the incident during dinner, a few Gryffindors saw fit to congratulate her. At the first game of the season, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, she was almost sure that she could've caught one of the passes that Hannah Abbot dropped. She kept up training, biding her time. As well, due to a dislike of Divination that she could not suppress, she was hoping for an opportunity to ask Dumbledore about something, and debated with herself when she should do it all week. Making up her mind on Friday afternoon, she approached his office after a particularly wearying Potions class.
"Jumping jellies." She stated clearly. No response from the door. One of the gargoyles muttered something about keeping up-to-date, missy, but did not address her about it. Not very familiar with candies, she rattled off the few she'd heard of, to no avail. Things were looking pretty grim, and she would have left if not for the door opening in front of her at that very moment, McGonagall still exchanging last-minute words with Dumbledore.
"don't know what it is, but they do have something under heavy guard, and I'm afraid it may be--" noticing Erin, McGonagall broke off, and cast Erin one of those looks so terrifying that only a career as a teacher can train one to do it so fearsomely. Erin averted her eyes, and walked past her into Dumbledore's office. When invited she had a seat, even partaking of the offered bowl of Cinnamon Snakes, then regretting it as her mouth began to feel blazing hot. She frantically accepted a cup of tea, which seemed to do the trick (although she spilled a bit in her haste).
"Professor," she had to clear her throat before continuing; the cinnamon was still on its way down, "I've been meaning to ask you about something, something important."
He fixed his attention on her politely.
"They didn't let me stay on because I convinced them of the value of truth or anything, did they? I mean, I saw Trelawney, and with what you said about Divination I could kind of guess."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair. "No, Miss Hightower, you have guessed correctly. The Ministry of Magic, although sympathetic to pleas such as yours, cannot heed them. If we were ever discovered..." he shook his head. "Violet eyes, however, are one of the surest signs of powerful mental power; usually, the inner sight. However," he glanced at her over his half- moon spectacles, "Professor Trelawney informs me that you doubt your abilities – indeed, that you do not appear to be taking her class very seriously at all. I discourage this kind of behavior, Miss Hightower, especially from you."
"No, but that's just it!" Erin tried to control the rising panic evident in her voice. "I can tell things about people but just... just from looking at them, and seeing how they move, and what they're wearing and stuff. I can't do any of the things she expects me to be able to do in class; I can't prophesize any of the ways she's shown us so far!"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed in thought. "Are you sure?" she nodded vigorously. "Oh... dear. Well, your abilities may not lie in the field of divination. Have you had any other experiences where you influenced someone, changed something, or even saw something out of the ordinary?"
Erin started to shake her head, then remembered when Ron had come to talk to her. None of them could move, he said, until the song was over... and even Malfoy was whistling it; to her knowledge, he'd never done anything else half so normal...
"When I," the circumstances suddenly occurred to her, and she blushed, but continued, "After I'd muddled my quidditch tryout, I went somewhere I thought was private, and I, I um, sang. After, I found out my friends from Gryffindor had heard, and Ron said he was kind of, I guess entranced by it. Even Malfoy was whistling it the next day, and I've never known him to whistle before." She looked up. Dumbledore was regarding her thoughtfully.
"That does sound very much like... cantamagi are less common, much less common, their gifts can be so dangerous..."
"I'm a cantamagus? Does that mean I can perform magic through song?"
Dumbledore glanced up at her sharply. "Latin student?" She nodded. "Well, before making any assumptions, would you mind getting me so happy that I leap onto my desk and dance for joy?" Amazingly, Dumbledore seemed serious. She blinked a few times and assented. Tensing, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine Dumbledore dancing a jig on his desk, and would have giggled had the situation not been so solemn – instead, she did the next closest thing. She opened her mouth, and sang the first thing that came out: a wordless tune bursting with joy, a celebration she could feel all through her body, no divine content but rather an almost immature delight, the comedy ecstasy. After a moment, she stopped, hearing a sound she had never heard before, but – she opened her eyes. Dumbledore was clutching his stomache, laughing so hard she wondered if he might have a stroke. He drew a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filling with childlike glee, then collapsed into giggles once again. After a moment, he managed to calm himself sufficiently to trade giggles for mere chuckles; then, finally, he stopped. Taking a few deep breaths to collect himself, he settled again in his chair and faced her.
"Yes, I believe you are a cantamagus, a songmage, although what you are doing isn't drawing from magic within you, like a spell, but changing the world around you – like the difference between magicking a plant to force it to grow and simply exposing it to more sunlight. Now, this voice of yours is a powerful means of suggestion. It can influence others to feel certain emotions, or to do what you want; that night, your song of loneliness must have drawn them to you. It can stay with a person, even eventually drive them insane." Erin's face paled with shock. "Yes, the responsibility is a heavy one. What you have is a dangerous gift. I am counting on you," he paused, staring directly into her eyes, "not to use your gift of persuasion on your fellow students or anyone else here at Hogwarts. You may find it handy in herbology, though," he added with a smile. She gave a questioning look. "When you want to, you can find the tune within you to help your plants grow, to speed them on their way -- even, later in life, manipulate forces of nature, such as sunshine or wind – very slightly."
Erin's mouth hung open.
"Congratulations," he said softly, "You are more than qualified to be here."