IWSC4 round 5 writing school
Beauxbatons exchange student 1
Techniques: active dialogue, tags and beats
Word count: 900 in Word, 894 in wordcounter-dot-net
A/N: After my previous story (Family Ties), several people asked me for more about Phemy. They also asked if she was an OC. Yes, she is. I really wanted to create a distant relative for Harry, with whom he could identify and bond. For those who haven't read Family Ties, she's the great-granddaughter of Euphemia Fleamont's twin sister, Eulalie (also an OC), which makes her Harry's second cousin once removed. She's a year or two younger than Harry and has the same untameable black hair, which makes her less obsessive about her appearance than her finishing-school background would otherwise suggest. She's slender and attractive, with a relaxed attitude and a sense of fun.
I made no promises about including her in other stories, but she jumped enthusiastically into this one, and since I like her just as much as my readers seem to have done, I didn't have the heart to push her out. Enjoy!
Keeping it in the Family
Harry stretched luxuriously and nestled deeper into the soft leather couch. Phemy smiled at him and picked up the half-empty bottle of wine.
"More?"
"No, thanks, Phemy, not just yet."
She topped up her own glass. "Harry, one of the reasons I invited you to dinner was so you could ask more about our family. I thought you'd have dozens of questions, but you haven't asked any."
Harry gazed at the leaping flames in the fireplace for a few minutes, then sighed and looked across at Phemy.
"To be honest," he confessed, "I've been a bit scared. I mean, I've told you about the Dursleys—if Dad's family was much better, I might really wish that my life had been different."
Phemy fingered the stem of her wine glass. "I see your point. But on the other hand, you obviously didn't have much in common with the Dursleys—"
Harry snorted. "You could say that!"
"—so wouldn't it be comforting to discover common ground with your Potter relatives?"
"Aside from the hair, you mean?" Harry gestured at the portraits on the wall, most of whom had the same unruly, dark hair. The people in the paintings and photographs immediately attempted to smooth their hair. One reached for a hairbrush and began brushing his locks.
Phemy laughed across at him. "I did mean good common ground, not irritating characteristics."
Harry joined in her laughter, then bent down to stroke Phemy's cat, which was rubbing its head against his knees. He scratched under its chin, and it leapt up onto his lap, purring.
"Well, there's one thing," said Phemy.
"What?"
"You like cats. Most of the family does. And I imagine the Dursleys hated them?"
"Spot on! Uncle Vernon always complained about them doing their business in his garden beds, Aunt Petunia said she'd never have a dirty animal in her house, and as for Dudley—well, he'd probably have tied firecrackers to their tails and thought it was funny."
Phemy shuddered. "I can't understand how some people can be so cruel. It's as if they don't think that animals have any feelings."
Harry ran his fingers along the cat's grey tabby stripes and tickled its stomach. "What's her name?"
"Stardust."
"Well, Stardust," said Harry to the cat, seeing his reflection in her green eyes as she sniffed at his nose, "not only do I know you have feelings, but I'm pretty sure you're a lot more sensible than some of the people in this mixed-up world."
"You might change your mind on that," Phemy said, then laughed as Stardust patted Harry's hand with her paw and leapt off his knee, clearly ready to play. "She's still as mischievous as a kitten."
Harry dropped to the floor and chased Stardust across the room on his hands and knees. She dodged behind an ottoman, then darted out and pounced on him as he peeked around the corner. Harry jumped back, and Phemy giggled. Stardust streaked past Harry, heading for the door, then looked back at him with cheeky invitation in her eyes.
"You want me to chase you down the hall, right?" he asked.
"She certainly does," said Phemy. "I know why, but I'm not going to tell you."
Harry groaned. "Crawling isn't my strong suit, but all right, if I must."
He scrambled across the living room on all fours and followed Stardust out into the hallway. She danced ahead of him, making occasional darts to one side or the other, but never allowing him within a few feet of her. Phemy followed them both in amusement.
"You're a lot quicker on four feet than I am, Stardust," Harry said. "Now if only I had my broom..."
As he said the words, a sudden memory flashed into his head. Himself zooming along a hallway on a toy broom, a black cat running ahead of him, and his father laughing and saying he'd make an excellent Seeker. He sat back on his heels and dashed his hand across his eyes.
"What is it, Harry?" asked Phemy.
"I—nothing. Just a memory, that's all. It took me by surprise."
"A good memory, or a bad one?"
"Good, I guess. Dad laughing as I played with the cat we had when I was a baby."
Phemy put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Those flashes must be really special moments."
Harry nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. Stardust looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes questioning. Then she darted back, leapt onto his lap and off again, and danced off down the hallway.
Phemy held out her hand to Harry. "Come on. She wants to show you something."
She drew him through the kitchen and into the scullery. There, nestled in a basket, were three lively kittens, all with the same smoky-grey markings as their mother. Stardust gave each one a proud lick and looked up at Harry.
"Oh, Stardust," whispered Harry, as he crouched down to fondle the kittens, "they're beautiful. What a lucky cat you are."
Phemy knelt down beside him. "They're just ready to leave her. And I think she wants you to have one. Would you like a kitten?"
Harry's eyes shone. "I couldn't think of anything I'd like more."
Phemy picked up one of the furry little bundles and put it in his cupped hands. "There you are—a family cat for one of the family."
