Hufflepuff Concerto
How many Hufflepuffs does it take to change a lightbulb? Two. One to change it and one to share the spotlight.
DISCLAIMER: That Harry Potter Universe and Characters are not, alas, my own.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed our foray in to Jaci's world. I gave serious consideration to calling that chapter "Interlude" in fitting with the Concerto theme in the title. Maybe I'll go back and change it when I fix up some of my horrendous repetive wordings in there. shudder I'll proof read better this time.
But those are minor details and for now I shall concentrate on moving forward. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.
Chapter Twelve: A New Game
Welcome back.
Hannah blinked. Nothing seemed different, but the fact that she could blink was kinda neat. She did it a few more times to be sure it was real. Why can't I see anything?
Because you aren't looking correctly, her brother Phil said in his mindspeak, You're looking right at me. I'm that big out-of-focus blur. See? I'm waving.
Where? This was all terribly confusing. She blinked again.
Then something happened. Something was different.
Peekaboo! Phil said, making everything go back the way it was before. He laughed at her expression. Weirdo. He did it a few more times. It was just starting to make more sense when their mom scolded him. Oh, come on, mom, I was just trying to help.
Leave her alone, Phil, mom said, She can adjust just fine without your help. Out! And Phil was gone.
Hannah blinked a couple more times and realized that it had the same effect as whatever Phil had been doing. She enjoyed that for a little while, but after awhile her eyes got harder to keep open so she kept them closed for awhile.
When she opened them again the room was dark and fuzzy, but very clearly there. It was her own bedroom, at home. She could hear footsteps in the hallway and a dish clanking downstairs. Something was weird about that. They were quiet sounds. She hadn't heard quiet sounds since . . .
Since Charms class. Flashes of a tornado of magic coming toward her came to like scenes from a far away bad dream. With a start, she notice the complete lack of any feeling sensation. Well, sure she could feel her toes and arms and legs and all that, but that really wasn't the same thing. The earth, the particals around her, her own inner energy: They simply gone. There were no traces of magic anywhere. Not to be seen, nor heard; tasted nor touched. It was as though they had never existed.
Maybe it was all a dream. Except that if that were true, she'd been hallucinatingp--at least to some extent--all her life.
She jumped out of bed. Two steps toward the door later, she was on the ground. Dizzy. She waited until the black spots cleared away before trying again. It took altogether too much effort to get up, but this time would have been more successful anyway--really, it would have--if her mom didn't choose that second to open the door and flip on the lights.
"You shouldn't be out of bed yet, young lady," she chided, cresent tiara gleaming in the lamplight. Hannah leaned on the back of her desk chair for balance. Perhaps it was just well her mom had come to her. Getting back too the bed might be a problem in and of itself. But more importantly...
"Mom," she tried really hard to keep her voice from squeaking, "Why can't I feel anything?"
Beckoning, her mother sunk down on the bed. She looked older than Hannah remembered her being. "Do you remember the wall you put up in your room at Hogwarts?"
Hannah nodded, taking her mom's extended hand. With a bit of help, she managed to climb back onto the mattress. Whatever the wall had to do with anything was a bit vague. There was no wall right now. And the wall she'd made couldn't have blocked her mage abilities.
An explanation would come eventually. Hannah tried to be patient. After all, her mother's family had been all mind mages growing up; she'd had mind mage friends and mind mage teachers, and so, she had rarely had need of translating thoughts into words before Hannah was born. Sometimes it took awhile. Sometimes, her mom even gave up and had to have Phil tell her things.
The process invaribly took longer when Hannah was impatient.
"When the wall broke--" her mother said at last, sending Hannah a mental image of water whirling down a bathtub drain-- "you were the drain. And more and more water kept coming from all around. There was nothing we could do but stop it up. There was a time," she continued before Hannah could think of a question, "when being an elemental mage--like you--was seen as a mental illness by the wizarding community. The potion they created to treat it is what you are on now.
"And when you go off it, the tornados will come back."
Hannah swallowed her demand to go off the "medicine" at once. It made her stomach turn that wizards could view her gift as a problem to be solved. Even so, she wasn't brave enough to face the magic again. This isn't a matter of not being brave, it's a matter of not being stupid. The potion was giving her the chance to be just a kid rather than a mage struggling to cope with everyday existance.
Though Hannah strongly suspected these thoughts were not her own, she tentavitely decided they had a point. At least until she got the chance to think about it for herself. Still, if this was such a good thing, this being normal, why was it almost as scary as the tornado?
"Does this mean I'm not a mage anymore?"
"Only time will tell. For now, I think you should be thankful that you are still Hannah," As her mother kissed her forehead, Hannah noticed for the first time that her tiara wasn't there anymore.
I guess I'm just a wizard now.
A/N1: I'm going away for the weekend. Next part will be Tuesday night at the earliest.
A/N2: It's sound crews that don't like hearing feedback: Writers thrive on it.
