Chapter 8 – Quidditch and a Manuscript
"All right, everyone, please pass forward your Voldemort essays," said Professor Magus.
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts on Halloween. Professor Magus was collecting their Voldemort essay, and Liz didn't have it. Luckily, she sat in the front, so no one sat in front of her to ask her to pass it up. She handed her row's pile of parchment rolls to the teacher, who smiled graciously at her and took them. She told them that they could have some time to finish Monday's assignment while she made sure everyone had turned them in. Liz could see her face go taut when she came to Liz's name on the roster and found no essay.
When the bell rang, everyone got up excitedly. Rachel and Michael were talking about how great their essays had been. "Liz, may I speak to you for a moment?" said Professor Magus. Liz told Rachel and Michael that she'd catch up to them and advanced to Professor Magus's desk.
"Liz, I read your essay, it was wonderful," said Professor Magus. Liz was completely bewildered until Professor Magus looked up. "Bettie, is there something you need?"
Liz saw Bettie, obviously lingering to see if Liz was in any trouble. "Oh, no, I was just leaving," Bettie said quickly. She glanced one more time at Liz and left.
"As I was saying, Liz," said Professor Magus, "you essay would have been wonderful if you had turned it in. Did you forget or something?"
Liz sighed. "No, Professor. I—I couldn't do it. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't. I kept thinking of my father."
An understanding expression lit Professor Magus's face. "I see. Well, I can't let you off that easy, but I won't force you to do the Voldemort essay. I'll give you one on…Animagi. Yes, five rolls of parchment on Animagi, and I'll give you two weeks to do it. Is that all right?"
"That's more than enough. I could probably finish it in one week. Thank you so much."
Her teacher grinned. "You're welcome. Now hurry on, or you'll be late for your next class."
"All right. Oh, and Professor?" Liz asked. "Thanks for covering for me in front of Bettie."
"It was no problem," Professor Magus responded.
Liz turned to leave, but something caught her eye. It was a messy stack of papers. Then she realized where she had seen it before: They were the papers Professor Magus had taken from Professor Stickler's desk. Without thinking, Liz asked, "What are those?"
"Those?" Professor Magus asked.
"Yes. Did you take them from Professor Stickler?" Liz mentally kicked herself. She had a big mouth, didn't she?
Professor Magus looked taken aback. "Well, yes, I did, actually. I don't believe Leonard really knew what it was. I don't either, to tell you the truth, but I think I have a better idea than that old coot did. I've been trying to read it, but I can't make heads or tails of it."
"What do you know about it?" Liz said, taking a look at the top sheet on the stack. It had squiggly markings on it that looked familiar to Liz. "It's written in the Ancient Runes!"
"That's what I thought too," said Professor Magus. "But it's not exact. There are so many differences in these and the real Ancient Runes that it has to be translated manually, I just don't have the time." She sat back in her chair, surveying her cluttered desk. "I guess I'll never know what it says."
Liz's wheels were turning. She could almost feel a light bulb go on over her head. "I could do it," she offered excitedly. "I have plenty of free time, and I take Ancient Runes, so I'm familiar with the symbols. Just—Professor Stickler isn't mad at you for taking them, is he?"
"I doubt he knows they're gone," said Professor Magus. "I would be very grateful if you helped me out, Liz. But are you sure? This could be extremely time-consuming. Don't you want to focus on your studies?"
"I have plenty of free time, Professor," Liz answered. "Let me help."
"All right, Liz. And thank you. What class do you have next?"
"I have Charms."
"I better write Professor Flitwick a note explaining why you're late for class." She scribbled on a piece of parchment and handed it to Liz. 'There. Run along, and thank you again!"
Liz hurried out, clutching the papers in her hand and stuffing them into her bag. Professor Magus's next class, the Slytherin seventh-years, stood outside the door, impatiently waiting for their teacher to finish. Most of them sneered at Liz as she passed, and she dropped her gaze. She had made sure that Professor Magus wasn't causing trouble when she took the papers, and now she had volunteered to decode them. This was going to take some work.
The Halloween feast took place later in the day, so Liz couldn't start working on the manuscript that night. And the next few days were too busy to do much extra on anything. Finally, when she had some free time, she decided to postpone the manuscript and begin on her Animagi essay. She had gotten the idea from Michael interview someone, and the obvious choice was his mother, the Transfiguration teacher. After Transfiguration class, she stayed behind to ask Professor Weasley a few questions.
"What do you need?" Professor Weasley asked.
"Well, I'm doing an essay on Animagi, and I thought I'd ask you a few questions, since you're the only Animagi I know."
"I'd be happy to, Liz! What do you need to know?"
"Well, in first-year you showed us that you could be two different animals, and you said there was only one other person who could do it. Who was it?"
Professor Weasley sighed and looked away, into the far reaches of the universe. When she finally came up with an answer, she said, "Your father."
Liz seized up. Could she never get away from her father's memory? It only caused grief and heartache. She uttered a hurried thank you and left, mentally vowing to do the assignment the old-fashioned way and research in the library.
After class that day, she finished the entire essay in one go in the library. She decided that it would be less embarrassing to hand it in now than to hand it in during class tomorrow, so she thanked the librarian and hurried out.
Professor Magus was grading the rest of the class's essays when Liz entered. "Hello, Professor," Liz said tentatively. "I have my essay."
"Early, as usual," quipped her teacher, taking it from her. "Did you learn anything in the process?"
"I learned not to interview people," Liz said automatically.
"And why is that?"
"I asked Professor Weasley who she knew was a double Animagus like she is and she said it was my father."
Professor Magus smiled empathetically. "I thought you might come across that in your research. I'm surprised no one's told you before. Hermione, or Ron—"
"Wait. Did you know my father?" asked Liz suddenly.
"What makes you say that?"
"You just make it sound like you did."
"No, I didn't know him," she said shortly. "Thank you for turning in your essay on time. I've got lots of work to do, so you may leave." And she turned again to her cluttered desk. Liz left, glad to be done with the essay, but now questions had presented themselves to her. She pondered them all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.
"First Quidditch match of the season, today at eleven!" Michael shouted to the common room. "Who's going to be there?"
"ME!" the entire Gryffindor Tower responded.
"I'll see you there!" Michael called out, and then he turned to Liz and Rachel. "This is fun!"
"You mean this is stupid," said Liz. "You're embarrassing yourself. Do you have to announce it like that?"
Michael ignored this. "Are you coming?" he asked Liz. Rachel leaned in to listen.
"Every game I always say no, and you two make me go anyway," Liz said. "So this time I'm just going to say yes and be done with it."
Rachel and Michael cheered.
At eleven that morning, Liz and Rachel followed the crowds of students from all Houses out to the Quidditch field, where the flying teacher, Oliver Wood, was waiting for the teams to suit up. It was to be Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the two most rivaled teams in school, most likely since Liz's father's day.
"Welcome!" yelled Josh Lepress, a Gryffindor who regularly did the commentating. This would be his last year, since he was in his seventh year. "Before the teams come out, I'd like to go over additions to the teams. For Gryffindors, Viola Bautista and Stephen Fancher replace Celeste Weaver and Mitchell Mikey, Chasers. Keeper Sarah McGuire has succeeded Weaver as Captain. Beater Stephanie Allen has been replaced by Beverley Castor. On to the Slytherins! Travis Brace is replacing Ronald Cloyd as Chaser, and Beaters Jesse Grillo and Donald Hartung replaced Sheri Goodall and Bobby Raby. The new captain, in place of Raby, is Chaser Julie Bourden. And here come our teams now!"
The players spilled out onto the field, silver and green clashing with red and gold. They mounted their brooms after McGuire and Bourden shook hands, and took off at Wood's whistle.
Almost immediately, Michael caught sight of the Snitch, and Andrew Bawfield, the Slytherin Seeker, followed him. They weaved in and out of the other players as Julie Bourden scored on Sarah McGuire. Most of the spectators were more interested in the Seekers than the goal posts. Every head turned in the same direction at the same time, watching Michael and Andrew's progress. In the meantime, Viola Bautista scored three times on Slytherin Keeper Martin Steward and no one noticed.
"There—he's reaching," said Rachel. "He's got it!"
"He's got it! I don't believe it!" yelled Josh from the microphone. "Michael Weasley catches the Snitch! Gryffindor wins, one hundred eighty to ten!"
"I believe that qualifies as the quickest Quidditch match ever," Liz said to Rachel as they left. "Josh's commentary was longer than the game itself."
"You can say that again," Rachel agreed.
They headed to the portrait of the Fat Lady, told her the password ("Waddiwasi"), and entered. Rachel wanted to stay in the quickly filling common room for the eminent celebration, but Liz opted for some homework time in the dormitory. She climbed the stairs, thinking of the manuscript she still hadn't begun to decode yet.
Waiting for her in the dorm was her mother's white owl. Someone had left the window open, and now it was perched on Liz's desk, pecking at her Herbology book. "No! Don't do that," said Liz. She put the owl n the windowsill and took the letter. "You can go now," she told the owl. It flew off into the pale autumn sky, leaving Liz to rip open the letter. She read:
Dear Elizabeth,
It's your mother again. Since it's your fourth-year, I wanted to write to you about how I met your father in my fourth-year, in great detail.
Liz stared disbelievingly at the letter, and then ripped it to shreds. She could never get away from her father's memory, ever! Everywhere she looked, it was Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that, your father and I met in fourth-year so I'm going to cause you grief by telling you about it. Could no one understand that it only caused her pain to think about what might have been if he had lived?
After the letter was sufficiently mutilated, Liz fell onto her bed. Eventually she began to regain her rationality. She would probably want that letter in the future. She gathered the pieces and said, "Reparo." The fragments flew back together. Without reading the letter, she folded it up and put it in her drawer. Maybe she'd read it later, when it didn't hurt so much. But then, when would it ever stop hurting? Her father was dead. She could either ignore the fact or face it. For now, she chose to ignore it, but she was sure it would show itself and force her to deal with it. Until then, she'd leave it alone as best she could.
With a sigh, Liz began on her homework.