Hufflepuff Concerto
You'll never see Hufflepuff the same again. Set in the year of the TriWizard Cup. A reluctant student comes to Hogwarts, is not a Mary Sue, and meets other OCs who are also not Mary or Marty Sues. I promise. Give it a try.
DISCLAIMER: That Harry Potter Universe and Characters are not, alas, my own.
A/N: Keep an author going: Comment; react; question.
A/N2: This chapter is dedicated to my little brother who's been on my back about getting it out. You can read his story--A Series of Unfortunate Events fanfiction--at the username "danieli".
A/N3: dhrelva --please add to the Tragyls and Twelve Again. I miss Harris and Clarence.
Chapter Nine: The Wand
Headmaster Dumbledore turned back, hand on the door handle, "I do not think that your father was unaware of what you would face here. Knowing his respect for wizardry, it may well be that this is what he sent you here to learn. The question is, are you up for the challenge?"
It was apparently one of the Headmaster's think-about-this questions, because he gave her a significant look and closed the door behind him. She sighed heavily, but then wished she didn't because Madame Pompfrey had noticed and she had an overwelming need to explain, "Adults are forever pretending I have choices where I clearly don't." So much so that I believe I have used that exact sentence before.
The nurse gave her a knowing smile, "What would have been your choice?"
"Well, I never wanted to come here in the first place," the line jumped to her lips from weeks of persistance. Yesterday-was it really only yesterday?--thought it had wiped it clear out of her head, but it was wrong. No Hogwarts meant no Slytherins to fight with in the halls--not that she didn't have her own bullies waiting for her at Holyoke--and no friends with questionable loyalties. At Holyoke there would be no kids staring at her tiara and making her feel self conscious about it. Most importantly, there wasn't magic gone wild anywhere in Britain like there was at Hogwarts. Then again, she shrugged, "But the mashed potatoes are good here."
"Well, mashed potatoes are important. And that's the dinner bell going off now,"-- Hannah didn't hear it--"I'll let you go now. But," Madame Pompfrey stopped her halfway to her bookbag, "You promise me next time you come to me before you've gone senseless."
"But I'm not sick." You can't just walk out of class when you're not sick.
"No one said you were. But until you figure out how to get through a Charms class without--well, if you need to get away, I can at least send a note to your teacher. Got it?"
"Yes," Hannah grabbed her bag and--
"Don't forget your wand."
"Thanks," she tried to sound like she meant it. It was on the floor in the box. She took a minute to throw the box in her bag--the farther away from her the better--and trudged off toward the Great Hall for dinner.
Yesterday, Hannah would have been worried about getting lost. Today, the Great Hall seemed impossible to miss. It was alive with activity: floating candles, ghosts, and students showing off their new talents. When Hannah finally reached its open doors, she could barely see into the room. At least one person had messed up a spell and sent waves of magic to every corner of the room. The odd thing was, it was all contained inside so it looked somewhat like she was looking into another living painting, abeit a very expressionistic one.
Being hungry, it seemed, was not going to be good for her mental health today. Breakfast, she promised herself as she savored the smell of good food, As early as possible.
"Fredrick the Cabbage," Hannah tried again. The portrait of Rik Kingsley shook his head impatiently. "Buzzle Wuzzle? Liz the Lettuce?"
"You've tried that one already," Kingsley pointed out, tapping his foot, "Along with Linel, Larry,Lucy, Linus, Luther, Lucious and Lex--all of the Lettuce family. And, while I'm sure they are all very happy to be remembered, don't you think it's time you go back to the Great Hall and ask someone for the password?"
No, "Carry the Cabbage, then."
"No. Ah! Mister Wagner, was it?"
"Yes, sir," Nick Wagner replied, not three feet behind her. Traces of magic from the Great Hall still hung around him, as did a general smell of food-- garlic, perhaps. He looked at her and glanced away, "Oh, hey Hannah," he stammered, "Are you, uh, feeling better?"
"Yeah," Hannah nodded slowly, trying not to watch the tendrils of magic disappate, "Things have stopped swirling." Mostly.
"Good," Nick nodded too.
"Yep."
Picking up her backpack, Hannah waved Nick ahead to Kingsley's portrait. His eyes widened, "You forgot the password?"
"Very thoroughly," Kingsley piped up. Hannah resisted glaring at him only because he was an adult.
"Oh. I--I'm sorry," Nick said, looking at his feet, "I guess I'd have forgotten too."
Hannah had a sudden mental image of what Madame Pompfrey wanted to call a 'break down' must have looked like to her classmates. She had been in class with a girl who had a seizure once and everyone was really freaked out. She tried to remember where Nick had been sitting, but she hadn't noticed. Maybe she was being paranoid, "What do you mean?"
"Um," he glanced around, looking, Hannah noted, everywhere but at her, "I thought you meant you forgot because... um." Nick closed his mouth.
"Because of what happened in Charms, you mean?" Hannah prompted.
"Yeah."
"Oh, no. . . I just always forget things," Hannah stepped further out of Nick's way, "but if you remember the password, then we can go inside."
"Oh. Right. Um. Fubby Wubby."
Oh yeah, Hannah's memory finally kicked in, "Fubby Wubby the cabbage."
"Mandrake."
Same thing, isn't it?
The door to the deserted Hufflepuff common room opened and Hannah followed Nick inside. His eyes darted toward the boys dormatory, "I gotta go start Char--Potions!-- I mean, I gotta go start the Potions homework."
"Yeah. Me too," Hannah said.
"But first," Nick clarified, "I gotta write my mom a letter," he was backing away now, "Oh yeah. Um. I'm glad you're okay. Just, uh, stay that way. Later!" He all but ran up the stairs to the boys dorm.
"Thanks," Hannah bit her lip, watching his retreating back, "I think."
She trudged up to her own room, which was blessedly lacking in weirdness. Hopefully, it would remain that way once her roommates returned from dinner. In the meantime, Hannah hefted an armful of textbooks onto her bed. But, unless there was a spell to keep magic away, the texts seemed somehow irrelevant.
If I can't get a handle on this, my grades won't matter, she decided, moving the books back to the floor and pushing them under her bed. Now what? It had all started with the wand. Before she touched it, her sense of the elemental had grown steadily with her ability to use it. And now... well, now was now. But it wasn't the first time I touched it.
Why hadn't this started in Olivander's shop? She tried to recall the details. Reaching for the wand. Holding it. The way her arm tingled. The first time, the wand hadn't grounded through her. She had been blocking it somehow and it had been angry with her for it. Possible, I guess. Only one way to find out.
The wand stirred. It knew she was coming for it.
Frozen, hand inside the bag, Hannah's thoughts raced. "The wand chooses the wizard," the old man at the wand shop was famous for saying, but once the wand was in a wizard's possesion it was treated as a tool. That didn't mean it wasn't more than a tool. How much did she really know about this thing?
Slowly, Hannah pulled out the box. I should put it under the bed and tell my parents I lost it and I want to go home. She hesitated. Was it her own longing to hold the wantagain--to figure out what happened--or was that coming from the wand? Why was she closing the bed curtains? When did she open the box?
Her fingers closed around the wand. She gasped.
It was the wand. It was definitely the wand.
