Best Laid Plans
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: The Defence Association
Chapter Twenty:
At Hogwarts, September 2nd always begins slowly. After the long, lazy days of Summer, the early morning wake-up is a struggle for most students, and despite the growing uncertainty effecting the world beyond Hogwarts' walls, the first day of the 1995-96 school year is just the same as any other.
"Where did the hols go?" Michael laments, bleary-eyed over his breakfast. He's served himself a whole fry up - eggs, bacon, toast, baked beans and sausage links and potato scones, fried mushrooms and onions, grilled tomatoes and oat cakes - and not for the first time, Helena marvels at the appetites of teenage boys.
"Better question," Lisa opines, "Where's the coffee?"
"When did you start drinking coffee?" Padma wonders. It's the first coherent thing she's said all morning.
"Over the holidays," Lisa replies, "Aren't upper years served coffee during breakfast? I need it."
"I think that's a myth," Terry opines, "But regardless, we're not Upper Years."
Lisa groans, disconsolate, but resigns herself to a very black cup of tea without any additional theatrics.
"Any word on timetabling?" Padma queries.
"Not yet," Helena denies, "Sign-up sheets are already on the noticeboards though. Will you be joining Charms Club again this year?"
"I'm not sure. I guess it depends on what the workload is like."
"Fair."
Padma is part of the High Achievers program with Helena. Along with a few more of their classmates, they'd started their electives in First Year, sat the O.W.L's for them in Third Year, and were presently enrolled in the N.E.W.T level courses for both subjects. Her strength lies in Arithmency where Helena's lies in Ancient Runes, but over the years they've been study partners, she's pushed Helena to work harder, learn more, to demand the best from and of herself, and Helena expects that trend will only continue.
Su pulls an unhappy face. "Ugh, I don't even want to think about it."
"I don't envy you lot," Morag opines, "O.W.L's will be bad enough."
"But in two years, we'll have two less N.E.W.T's to worry about," Su counters, smug.
There will be other classes instead, optional Post-N.E.W.T courses they may take related to the N.E.W.T's they've already sat, but no one mentions those.
"That's assuming I take N.E.W.T level Runes and Arithmency."
"Won't you?" Su wonders, nonplused.
"Honestly, I'm not even sure if I'm coming back next year," Morag admits, and she doesn't sound happy about it.
"What? Why?" Mandy splutters, bewildered. The pair of them are the best of friends, and the thought of two years at Hogwarts without Morag by her side is evidently unpleasant to the brunette.
Morag's mouth twists into a bitter grimace. "A broodmare has no need for N.E.W.T's."
As Padma, Su, Lisa and Helena exchange awkward glances, Mandy scowls, outraged. Her upbringing in non-magical England has not prepared her for their society's traditional expectations of women - particularly among the gentry - and she's extremely unhappy to hear Morag's (admittedly blunt) assessment of the situation.
"That's ridiculous!"
Morag is resigned. "That's just the way it is."
Morag isn't wholly accurate. Helena is fortunate enough to come from a family that recognises the value of having educated wives and mothers, daughters and sisters, and the same may be said for Lisa, Padma, and Su. Though the latter two also have different cultural beliefs to abide by, they are all expected to marry well, but not before they've completed their N.E.W.T's at the very least.
Unfortunately, not everyone is so progressive in their attitudes.
Case in point: The McDougall Clan. They aren't pureblood supremacists, but they are rather old-fashioned in their beliefs regarding the role of women as wives and mothers. Unmarried women are to be pitied, career women are considered a disgrace, and if a witch doesn't want children? Well, clearly there's something wrong with her.
"Are you serious?" Mandy grouses, "What the hell? This isn't the 1800's!"
"This also isn't Muggle England," Anthony gently reminds her, and mercifully before Stephen and Kevin can open their bigoted mouths, "Our societies split in the 1600's, remember. We might share the same land, but Magical Britain's culture and sub-cultures are quite different to that of our Non-Magical counterparts."
"It's only a possibility at this point, anyway," Morag interjects, "They'd have to find me a suitable husband, first."
Mandy opens her mouth to complain further - presumably regarding the implication that Morag would not be choosing her own spouse - but she's diverted by the jovial tones of Professor Flitwick as he goes about distributing timetables. Instead, she glares pointedly at the rest of them - evidently, this conversation isn't over - and sullenly returns to her breakfast.
Unenthused by the prospect of even more criticism about their culture and customs, Helena shares another wordless glance with Padma, Su and Lisa, finishes the last of her bowl of muesli, fruit and yoghurt, and sets about filling a couple of small drawstring bags with some snacks to see her through the day. Mixed berries in one, a homemade trail mix in another, some chocolate chip biscuits in a third. They join a pear and an apple in her satchel, alongside an insulated water bottle and a box of breath mints, and as per usual, someone can't help but make a comment.
"Are you stocking up for the Winter, Helena?" Stephen asks, tongue in cheek. He's seated next to her on the bench - something of a novelty, but one Helena expects she will have to accustom herself to in the weeks and months to come - and his expression is sardonic.
"Something like that."
"Do you share?"
"Nope."
"Don't bother asking later, either," Lisa interjects, preoccupied by the task of gathering her own snacks, "We all learned quickly that Hallie won't change her mind."
Helena is unabashed. "I'm a growing girl."
Before Stephen can reply, Professor Flitwick slows to a stop behind and between Su and Lisa. He greets them all cheerfully, distributes their timetables with a deft flick of his wand, wishes them all a pleasant day, and continues on down the length of the table.
"Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Herbology, and History of Magic today," Padma observes.
"I'm off, then," Helena declares, "It's time I rescued Will from the First Years."
Between the two of them, they had agreed that Will would accompany them to the Great Hall that morning, and Helena would guide them to their first class after breakfast. They'd have to make a detour to Ravenclaw Tower to retrieve their textbooks and what have you, and because Helena had no interest in arriving late to Transfiguration, she wasn't about to loiter.
Lisa smirks. "But it's so fun watching him suffer."
Helena huffs a laugh, amused despite herself. Will, after escorting the First Years to breakfast, spent the meal with his (their?) young charges. No doubt, he's been subject to countless questions from them, and if his poorly suppressed grimaces are anything to go by, he hasn't enjoyed the experience.
Helena's just glad to realise that she's not the only prefect out of her depth.
"Now that's just cruel."
Lisa is entirely unapologetic. "That's me."
Su rolls her eyes. "All right, Cruella, move it. I'm not about to be late for Transfiguration - We'd never hear the end of it!"
Lisa sighs, put-upon, but drains the last dregs of her tea, gathers up her book bag, and clambers over the bench to leave.
"I'll meet you at the classroom," Helena bids them, already turned towards the front of the Great Hall, "Save me a seat."
"We will," Padma replies, "See you soon."
They part ways then, Helena to Will and the First Years, her friends to Transfiguration via Ravenclaw Tower, and Helena tries to muster up a semblance of good cheer for the newest batch of Ravenclaw students.
Mercifully, for all of their sakes, she mostly succeeds.
-!- -#-
For Helena, morning classes pass uneventfully. Alongside her classmates, she is subjected to a series of lectures that unfailingly stressed the importance of their O.W.L exams, followed by a review of the previous year's material, and a brief discussion of the course content they will be covering throughout the Autumn term. She and Will take turns shepherding their exuberant new housemates to and from their classes, she tries hard to avoid any more (stilted) conversation with Stephen and Kevin, and she realises - with a growing sense of despair - that many of her classmates refuse to believe that Voldemort has returned.
"Of course Longbottom's full of tripe," Zacharias Smith says during a brief interval between classes. He's all swagger and bravado, and surrounded by a gaggle of starry-eyed girls prepared to believe anything he says. It's nauseating. "No one comes back from the dead."
"No one survives the killing curse either, but you're not denying that happened," Lisa opines. She's happy to tear shreds into anyone and everyone's denial, and she dives headfirst into the challenge with an odd, enthusiastic sort of relish.
In silent accord, Helena and Padma and the rest of her friends leave her to it.
"Is he truly back though?" Morag wonders later. She's already drained after a gruelling discussion with Mandy - she isn't the only one - clad in her nightdress and ready for bed, but evidently, some things can't wait, "Nothing's happened all Summer."
"My father says it will take time for him to build up his forces," Padma opines.
"Yes," Lisa concurs, "Mum says it's a travesty that the Ministry of Magic isn't doing the same. We're all going to be slaughtered."
"Or worse," Helena contributes. As she avoids the sympathetic glances from her housemates, Her thoughts drift towards her parents, and she hopes they are all right.
Su rolls her eyes. "Way to be dramatic about it, guys."
"Are we wrong?"
It hasn't been long enough since Voldemort's initial defeat for any of them to not be impacted by the war. If they haven't lost someone themselves, then they know someone who has. In addition, many of their older (or former) classmates had survived encounters with Death Eaters with the enduring scars to prove it, their stories told in whispers in hallways and dormitories and bathrooms, blown out of proportion by hearsay, and never ever forgotten by the wide-eyed, impressionable girls who heard them.
Su grimaces, chagrined. "I guess not."
Except, Helena reflects in bed later that night, she really, really wishes they were.
