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Chapter Eight: In which Paul becomes very, very angry
- February 23, 1945 -
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They lost.
Paul Garrett was furious. He couldn't believe it. Slytherin lost the Quidditch game to that Mudblood Shirley Jones and her ragtag team of Hufflepuffs, 310-50. It was the worst defeat they had suffered in years. And there was nothing he could have done to stop it.
He didn't speak to anyone as he stormed back up to the castle after the game. His latest girlfriend, a fourth-year Slytherin named Linda Manning, started to approach him, but saw what a rotten mood he was in and backed off. No one else dared to even think about going near him.
The Slytherin common room was deserted when he got there. This didn't surprise him; everyone else was still coming in from the game. He thought about sitting down on one of the couches, but decided he didn't want to be around when people started coming in, so he went up to his dormitory and sat on his bed instead. He resisted the urge to punch the wall as he went up the stairs. They lost. They lost to Hufflepuff. If they lost to Gryffindor, or even Ravenclaw, it would have been different, but Hufflepuff? That was too much.
He let out a long sigh, laid down, and stared at the ceiling. He didn't even realize how much time had gone by until David Brown, another sixth-year on the Quidditch team, came into the dormitory and sat down on his own bed. David was silent for a few minutes, then said, "We needed you."
Paul rolled over and looked at David. David was a Beater; tall and muscular, with a shaved head and a hawk-like face. "I know."
"Monet wasn't bad, but… well, the team's not used to him, and… we needed you."
"Tell that to Nay."
David snorted. "Can you believe Alastor didn't even try to get you back on the team?"
"He's dating Minerva's best friend. What would that have done?" Paul asked. "Besides, Nay wouldn't listen to him." He sighed. "I hate that sadistic bitch. I wish she was dead."
"Well, I don't think anyone would miss her if that happened."
"Dippet might. I hate him, too. Idiot."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Tom, who heard it from Alastor, who heard it from Arabella, who heard it from Minerva, who was told by Dumbledore that Dippet's been spending a lot of time with her."
"Why?"
"Brown, I know you're a Beater and all, but don't tell me you're that thick," said Paul. "She might be a sadistic bitch, but she's a gorgeous sadistic bitch." He sat up. "Let's put two and two together here. Dippet: moronic ex-Astronomy instructor who has probably never slept with a woman in his life despite his uncanny resemblance to Humphrey Bogart. Nay: gorgeous sadistic bitch who would probably be more than willing to go the extra mile to get ahead, if you take my meaning."
David blinked. "No, I don't."
Paul rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Is Riddle back?"
David nodded. "He's down in the common room with Moody and the rest of the team. Last I checked, they were alone; no one's brave enough to go near them."
Paul got off his bed. "Then that's where I'm going."
Sure enough, when Paul got there, the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team were the only people in the common room. Linden Monet, his replacement, was sitting in a corner by himself, staring at the floor. Alastor, who, in addition to being captain, was the other Beater, was sitting on a couch next to Tom, who played Chaser. Fifth-year Colin Davison, the other Chaser, was in a chair near the couch occupied by Tom and Alastor. The Keeper, fourth-year Natalie Ranstrom, and the Seeker, sixth-year Bianca Netzel, were sobbing on each others' shoulders. They all looked exactly like he felt.
Alastor was the first to notice Paul come in. "Hey, Garrett," he said dryly.
"Hard to believe it, huh?" Paul asked, sitting down on the couch next to Tom.
"We needed you," Tom told him.
"I know," Paul said loudly. Linden looked up at him for a second, then back at the floor. "So what place are we in now?"
"Fourth," Colin spat. "And Hufflepuff's in second."
Paul groaned. He figured as much, but even so… "I can't believe we lost to a bunch of Mudlboods." Five people on Hufflepuff's Quidditch team, including captain and Seeker Shirley Jones, were Muggle-born.
"Even so, they're good," Alastor said. "We've got to give them that. Jones is the best Seeker Hogwarts has had so far this century. She'll probably turn professional."
"She is," Bianca choked, wiping at her eyes. "Someone told me she's received offers from the Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies."
"Minerva's already signed on with the Montrose Magpies," Alastor commented in an offhand tone of voice. As soon as the words left his lips, though, he wished he hadn't said anything.
In an instant, Paul was on his feet. "WHAT?!?"
"You didn't know?" Alastor asked, even though he knew it was a bad excuse. To the best of his knowledge, the only other students besides Minerva who knew yet were himself and Arabella.
Paul looked ready to kill someone. "The Montrose Magpies took her? After that… that stroke of luck?!?"
"It wasn't luck," Alastor said. "She's the best Quidditch player in the school. She always has been. You said it yourself last year, remember?"
Paul narrowed his eyes. "Things change."
"Or maybe you only said that to get her to go out with you."
Paul took a step toward Alastor. "It sounds to me like you're just jealous that I had Minerva while you were stuck with her little sidekick."
Now Alastor standing, too. "I was dating Arabella for over a year before you and Minerva got involved!" he snapped, pointing his finger at Paul.
"Only because Minerva turned you down."
Alastor bit the inside of his cheek and counted to five in his head. That was partially true; Minerva had been his first choice, but that was a long time ago. "That was a long time ago," he said out loud, just to make it sound more convincing to himself.
Paul wasn't biting. "Keep telling yourself that."
Tom decided to intervene before it got ugly. He stood up and stepped between them. "That's enough," he said. "You both need to knock it off before you do something you'll regret. Sit down."
They sat, but continued to glare at each other.
Tom decided to change the subject to something they could all agree on. "If you want to blame anyone for what happened today, blame Professor Nay. She's the one who kicked you off the team, Paul."
Alastor was still angry enough at Paul to think that he probably deserved it, but didn't want to say that in front of the team after suffering their worst defeat in who knew how long.
Sure enough, Paul completely forgot about the confrontation between him and Alastor. "Nay," he hissed. "That… I swear I'm going to kill her."
"Don't make death threats unless you intend to follow through with them," Tom said casually. Murder was nothing new to him.
"Just wait," Paul spat. "I'd rather spend life in Azkaban than know she's still breathing."
Those were strong words, but Tom decided it would be better to wait and see if Paul's bite was as bad as his bark.
"Why do you hate her so much, anyway?" asked Natalie.
Paul stared at the fourth-year Keeper for a moment, then said, "Why shouldn't I? The only person in this school that even pretends to like her is Dippet, and I think it's obvious why. In fact, I bet they're together right now…"
Paul was almost correct; Armando Dippet and Indira Nay were together, but they were not doing anything along the line of what Paul was suggesting to his fellow Slytherins. They weren't even alone. They were walking back up to the school from the Quidditch pitch with three other teachers: Jason Rose, who taught Charms; Arielle Turner, the Potions instructor; and Alain Haas, the Arithmancy instructor and head of Hufflepuff. All five were silent for the first half of their journey, and then Indira spoke. "Your team did well, Professor Haas."
Haas was almost surprised that she said that. She rarely spoke to him anyway, and he didn't expect her to after her house's Quidditch team lost so badly to his. "Uh… thank you, Professor Nay. Slytherin just wasn't on top of their game today. I'm sure they'll do better next time."
"They needed Paul Garrett," Rose commented.
"No, they didn't," Indira replied with a hint of anger to her voice. "Garrett did this to himself. He should have thought before he acted." She sighed. "But this is hardly the time or the place for a conversation we've had several times before."
"Indira, I'm curious," Arielle said. "What Garrett did was wrong, but… don't you think you're overreacting just a little? What happened to make you like this?"
Dippet winced involuntarily, but luckily, no one noticed. Rose, Haas, and Arielle were all looking at Indira to see what her reaction would be. He looked at her, too, wondering what he could possibly do if it turned ugly.
Indira pressed her lips into a thin line. Her dark green eyes were piercing under normal circumstances, but now, the look in them was downright menacing. "Nothing," she said bitterly. "My past is of concern to no one."
She left them with no further words, and began walking back up to the school at a rapid pace.
Dippet sighed. That was better than he'd anticipated, but it still wasn't good.
"I don't understand her," said Rose. "Why doesn't she tell us anything? Maybe we could help her."
Arielle snorted. "Help Indira Nay? We've been trying to help here for years. No one understands her. She won't let anyone get close enough to try!"
"What about you, Armando?" asked Haas. "She… seems to like you. Has she confided in you at all?"
He shook his head. "Indira doesn't believe in confiding. She's… she's been hurt. Deeply. No one understands her because, well, we can't."
"It sounds to me like you know something about her, Armando," Arielle said. "Can you tell us?"
"They're not my secrets to tell," Dippet replied, "and I cannot say that I blame Indira for her reluctance to divulge them."
"So you know about her," Rose concluded. "How?"
"I knew her parents," Dippet answered. "They were the ones that brought her… situation… to my attention."
"It's that bad, huh?" asked Arielle.
He shook his head. "No, Arielle, it's much worse."
He excused himself and hurried toward the school, hoping to catch up to Indira before she got too far.
He caught up to Indira just outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Wait," he called as she touched the door's handle.
She pulled her hand away from the door and looked at him. "What, came to press the matter further? I told you, it's no one's concern."
"You are my concern, Indira," he said, "and I came her to talk about… actually, now that I think about it, I don't have anything in mind."
At that moment, she came closer to smiling than she had in twenty years. "Well, isn't there something you should be doing, then?"
He thought of the stacks of paperwork on his desk and said, "Yes, but… but some things are more important."
"I don't know if I've ever told you this, Armando, but you're a good friend. Thank you for your concern."
It occurred to him that that was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name. "You're welcome," he said, "but that really isn't necessary."
"You're just doing your job, right?" she asked.
"No. I'm doing what I believe is right, and my only regret is that I wish I knew how to do more."
They made eye contact, and slowly but surely, moved closer to each other. They were just about to kiss when Indira suddenly pulled away. "No," she said. "I… I can't. This is wrong."
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Dippet thought to himself, wishing someone would kick him. He should have known better than to try to kiss her. "I'm sorry."
"I've got a lot of work to do," Indira said, opening the door to her classroom. "Good night, Professor Dippet."
She closed the door behind her as fast as she could without slamming it. Dippet stared at it for a few minutes, sighed, then said, "Good night, Indira."
A/N: I know you're all just dying to hear just what Indira's problem is (yeah right), and it is my pleasure to inform you that you don't have long to wait. Part of the truth shall be revealed in the next chapter, and the rest will come along probably the chapter after that. Spoiler quote: "I think I've just figured out why Professor Nay hates Grindelwald so much." – Minerva. Yay. Good night.