"Guys! Hey, guys!"
Jimmy O'Bannon was about to open the double front doors of Blazenrowe Hall when he heard Artimus' voice behind him. He turned, along with Jared and Rosa, and saw the tall boy hurrying down the corridor, his shoes banging against the wooden floorboards.
"Quiet down!" the portrait of a fat old wizard with a pointed hat bellowed at him. "It's too early in the morning for such a ruckus."
"Sorry," Artimus replied without slowing his pace.
"Where the heck have you been?" Rosa asked. "We were just about to go to breakfast without you."
"Sorry about that. I was just working on something . . . for Jimmy."
"Really?" O'Bannon felt his face crinkle in surprise. "What?"
"This." Artimus handed him a piece of parchment.
He scanned it. THE TALLY SHEET was written on the top in large, fancy script. A line ran through the center with the word BELIEVERS on one side and NON-BELIEVERS on the other.
"That way you can keep track of how many people here are on your side or aren't."
As much as he appreciated Artimus' efforts, O'Bannon frowned when he scanned the columns. 8 in the Believers column, 29 in the Non-Believers.
Artimus tapped the parchment. "And those numbers will change the moment any of us find out who believes you and who doesn't."
"Maybe we should do some work to get this number up." Jared pointed to the Believers column.
"Yeah." O'Bannon sighed. If the incident between him and Merak yesterday on the Salem Schooner was any indication, that wouldn't be an easy task.
"Thanks, man." He nodded to Artimus. A smile flashed across the taller boy's face.
O'Bannon threw open the doors. Raindrops pattered against the wooden overhang above the front doors. The four students cast Bubble-Head Charms over themselves and stepped out into the rain. O'Bannon paused for a second to take in the campus.
Elm trees and brightly colored flowerbeds lined a dirt path leading away from Blazenrowe Hall. It split off into other paths leading to large, colonial style houses of various colors. A mist hovered over the large lake to his right.
O'Bannon headed toward the path, followed by the others.
"Hey, Art," Jared said. "I thought your old man didn't want you to have anything to do with us malcontents."
"He doesn't. But, I mean . . . he's back in Plymouth, right? So . . . what he doesn't know . . . won't hurt him."
Artimus' voice trailed off on those last few words. He then drew a deep breath. "But, it may be a good idea not to spread it around that I came up with that list. Okay? Please?"
O'Bannon groaned to himself. If Art was gonna stand by him, he needed to jump in with both feet or none at all. Trying to placate both sides wouldn't cut it, not when it came to something as serious as You-Know-Who's return.
But knowing Art as he did, this probably constituted a major act of defiance for him. O'Bannon decided to accept it . . . for now.
"Sure thing, man," He assured him.
Jared and Rosa both nodded.
"One suggestion, though . . ." Rosa held up a finger. "You may need to use sub-categories for the Non-Believers side."
"What do you mean?" Artimus shot her a quizzical expression.
"Well, from the kids I've talked to," she looked to O'Bannon, "there are non-believers who are mad at you because some of their relatives died in the war and they think you're dishonoring their memories. Then there are some who think you're being duped by all your friends in England. Then there are some who think you're just plain naïve, but they blame it on the fact you're Muggle-born, and . . . you know what they say. 'You can tell a Muggle-born Merlin wore talking green underwear and rode around England on a pink hog that farted pixie dust, and they'd believe it.' Then there were one or two who thought Dumbledore has you under an Imperius Curse."
"So basically, the majority of people here think I'm either insensitive, stupid, naïve or cursed."
"There's probably some who think you're crazy, too," Jared offered.
"Gee, thanks."
Rosa glared at Jared briefly, then turned to O'Bannon. "Look, just take some comfort in the fact eight people at Salem believe you. Well, five not counting us. So that means there has to be . . ."
A nasally squeal cut off Rosa. O'Bannon's head whipped toward her. Something small and gray flashed across the ground.
Rosa shrieked.
"Rosa!" Jared leapt by her side.
"Get off! Get off!" Rosa kicked her left leg furiously.
That's when O'Bannon spotted it. A fat garden gnome clung tenaciously to Rosa's shoe.
"Little . . . son-of-a- . . ."
With a final kick, the gnome went spiraling through the air, smacked the side of an elm tree and tumbled to the ground. The little creature picked itself up, dusted itself off, and leered at Rosa.
O'Bannon silently chuckled when he recognized the gnome. Feetish, the garden gnome with the incurable foot fetish.
"Look at this!" Rosa stuck out her left foot. "I just got these shoes last week. Now this one's scratched and . . . Merlin's Beard! He drooled on it! I've got gnome spit on my shoe!"
Jared cracked up. Artimus turned away from Rosa, his face reddening as he held in his laughter.
Feetish, meanwhile, jumped up and down, making a gargling laugh.
Teeth bared, Rosa whipped out her wand. "You disgusting little . . ."
Orange sparks shot out of her wand. Feetish barely jumped out of the way in time and took off across the grass.
"Come back here, dammit!" Rosa ran after him, firing more orange sparks.
"Rosa, come on!" O'Bannon threw out his hands. "It's breakfast time!"
She ignored him and fired another hex at Feetish, missing again.
"Well I ain't waiting for her." Jared started down the path. "I'm starving."
O'Bannon and Artimus followed him, while Rosa pursued Feetish over a small hill.
They soon came to a large barn-like structure with red wooden siding. The sign above the door read PRISCILLA PRIMROSE COMMUNAL HALL.
O'Bannon went through first. Rows of tables with blue and silver cloths lined the hall. Three immense chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, each one containing swarms of glowbugs, who filled the crystalline structures with a rainbow of brilliant colors. Large rectangular windows looked out onto the rainy morning. O'Bannon glanced at the wall behind him, which bore a moving mural depicting a group of witches leaving behind the town of Salem and raising the first building of what would become the Salem Witches Institute.
"Good morning, good morning, my dears." A chubby female ghost with an apron and her hair in a bun swooped in front of them.
"So glad you could join us for breakfast," said the specter of Priscilla Primrose, one of the school's founders. "You must try the eggs benedict today. And the crepes are exceptional. At least that's what they tell me. It's not like I can sample them myself, being a ghost and all."
The ghost's face sagged. It then lit up when she looked at O'Bannon.
"Ah, Mister O'Bannon. You've certainly been the subject of much debate this morning."
"Lucky me." He gave Priscilla a half-smile.
"Oh, don't look so sullen, now. For six years I've had the pleasure of your company in my hall, and never have you given me cause to think you a dishonest young man."
"Thank you," he straightened up.
"Though for all our sakes, I hope you are wrong regarding these stories about You-Know-Who's return." Priscilla shuddered. "I thought I'd seen horrors during the Burning Times before we established this school. But You-Know-Who . . . oh pray the world never has to experience that evil again."
O'Bannon lowered his eyes. I think it's too late for that.
Priscilla's eyes widened. She smiled as she looked past O'Bannon. "Ah. Good morning, dear."
He turned around, figuring it was Rosa, back from her insane mission of revenge.
Instead he found himself face-to-face with Cecilia Malfoy.
The two stared at one another in silence. O'Bannon's eyes narrowed as he gazed into Cecelia's hazel orbs. What the hell was going on in that head of hers? What was she really doing here at Salem?
Cecilia sighed. "Excuse me."
She brushed past O'Bannon. He watched her head to a table on the other side of the hall, where Serinta Sejant was seated. Cecilia sat next to the other Slytherin. Almost immediately the two girls put their heads together in deep conversation.
O'Bannon shook his head. What the hell were they talking about?
"Not very friendly to the new student, are we?" Priscilla canted her round head.
"I've got my reasons."
He nodded to the ghost and headed for the nearest table, followed by Jared and Artimus. O'Bannon's face lit up when he noticed three students he recognized from the Jingosocke Hall Quidditch team.
"Lester. Eli. Abigail." He sat across from the trio. "How the heck are you?"
Lester, a husky Beater, and Eli, a lean Chaser with a shaved scalp, both glared at him. With an emphatic snort, Lester grabbed his fine china plate and stood. Eli did the same a moment later.
"It's not funny what you're doing, Jimmy." Lester still glared at him. "My mother lost both legs in the war."
With that, the two made for a spot further down the table.
O'Bannon scowled at them. He'd known Lester and Eli for years. Of course, he could say that about many of the kids here who didn't believe him. And in all that time he'd never given any of them a reason to think he was a habitual liar.
So what the hell changed? Did stories in The All-Seeing Eye matter more than the word of a friend? Especially a friend who was actually at Hogwarts when Diggory died? Or could it be this stupid Muggle-born prejudice? Somehow coming from non-magic parents made him less credible than an all-mighty pureblood?
O'Bannon felt eyes on him. He switched his gaze from Lester and Eli to Abigail. The lithe blond still sat across from him, staring at him.
"Yeah?" He asked in a rather annoyed tone.
"Jimmy, please." She held up a hand. "I don't think you're doing this to be hurtful to anyone."
"Well, thanks for that."
"It's just . . . look, Harry Potter's story is known all over the world. And, for a Muggle-born like yourself, hearing about his story from the day you set foot in Salem, then actually meeting him . . . I'm sure it must be overwhelming to meet someone that famous. And it might make someone like you more willing to believe anything he says."
O'Bannon felt blood pulsing in his cheeks. He clenched his fists, trying to contain a verbal eruption. He'd more than had enough of this 'the poor Muggle-born just doesn't understand' crap.
"How about this?" He spoke deliberately. "Maybe the reason I'm talking about You-Know-Who being back, is because it's friggin' true."
Abigail lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged. "Jimmy, please. Just . . . just think about what I said, okay? I . . . I better get to class."
The Jingosocke Seeker left her half-eaten breakfast and headed for the exit.
O'Bannon checked his watch. Classes didn't start for another forty-five minutes.
Maybe being seen with me is considered a strike against your social status here.
Face scrunched in anger, O'Bannon scooped up a couple eggs benedict from the platter in front of him and plopped them onto his plate, which bore an etching of the Salem Witches Institute logo. He then poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and slammed the pitcher back down on the table. Several students around him stared. O'Bannon didn't care.
Well my mind's made up on my Seventh Year Seminar. He would do it on the impact of Muggle-borns on the wizarding world. No! Better yet. He'd do it on these stupid stereotypes of Muggle-borns. And if that pissed off some people, good!
O'Bannon had polished off his eggs benedict and was about to go for some pancakes when Rosa entered the Communal Hall. Her hair looked a mess, her robes were wrinkled and she only wore one shoe. She grunted and plopped down next to Jared.
"So, you get Feetish?"
Rosa's head whipped toward Jared. Her nostrils flared as she spoke. "I had him. I had that sick little bastard right in my sights . . . and I slipped in the friggin' mud!"
Other students looked at Rosa as she continued. "I was just picking myself up when Feetish ripped off my shoe and dove down a hole with it. You know how much this pair of shoes cost me? And that little pervert has one of 'em. Probably sniffing it right now or something."
Rosa shuddered. "So since I didn't feel like starving to death for the rest of the morning, I had to forget about my shoe and use a cleaning charm and a drying charm. That's always fun to do in the rain. And Merlin, my hair has to be a mess."
"Actually, it doesn't look that bad." Jared smiled at her. "But, Rosa. There is something you should know."
"What?"
"You've got mud on your teeth."
Jared chuckled.
Rosa sat through breakfast with a murderous look on her face.
XXXXX
I must be cursed.
O'Bannon closed his eyes and groaned when he walked into History of Magic with Rosa, Jared and Artimus. Serinta and Cecilia sat in the back row.
"You think those Slytherin chicks are gonna be in any more of our classes?" asked Jared.
"The way my luck's been going, count on it."
O'Bannon shot the girls a sideways glare as he walked between the rows of desks and took one near the front of the classroom. Artimus sat next to him, and the cousins behind them. O'Bannon scanned the classroom, briefly studying the numerous moving portraits of famous wizards in American history, a hand drawn map of the U.S. with floating banners marking prominent magical locations and another glowbug-filled chandelier.
"Good mornin', me lovie dovies."
O'Bannon sat up straighter when he heard the Jamaican accent. A woman with chocolate skin and regal features with short black hair and stylish robes breezed into the classroom. O'Bannon's heartbeat picked up. It had been a long time since he laid eyes on Miss Venatici. Man, she still looked smokin' hot!
She picked up her attendance sheet, scanned it briefly, then gazed up at O'Bannon with a gleaming smile.
"Ah, Jimmy. Welcome home."
"Thanks, Miss Venatici."
"I hope you had a wonderful experience at Hogwarts."
"Yeah, it was cool." For a few moments O'Bannon managed not to think about the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, imagining instead what Miss Venatici would look like without her robes.
"Ah, and I see we also have some exchange students from Hogwarts here." Miss Venatici looked to the back of the classroom and waved to Serinta and Cecilia. "Welcome to Salem, young ladies."
O'Bannon's smile lessened. He wondered if Miss Venatici would be so friendly if she knew what Slytherins were really like.
"All right, me lovie dovies. It's going to be a busy semester for us, so we're just going to dive right in." Miss Venatici walked around to the front of her desk. "Now, your project will be to pick a historical event and explain how it still impacts the Wizarding World today. This won't only be a written project, but you must also do an oral presentation with visual aids. Now, I have a list of historical events you can choose from, or if you want to pick one not on the list, that's fine, too. So, you're going to partner with one of your friends and start planning your project."
O'Bannon looked around at his three friends, digging through his memory. The last time he partnered up with Rosa, and the time before it was Jared. So this time it looked like it would be him and Artimus . . .
"Oh no." Miss Venatici raised an arm as desks started to shuffle. "Wait, wait, wait. For the last seven years you kids have usually partnered up with the same people. So this time, we're going to do things a little different. We're going to let the Fates decide who will be your partner this semester."
Miss Venatici waved her wand. The names of all the students in the class hovered in the air in blazing orange letters. O'Bannon's eyes settled on one name in particular.
Rana Rollingsworth.
With another swipe of her wand, Miss Venatici sent the names swirling around like a glittering orange tornado.
O'Bannon looked over his shoulder. Rana sat two rows away. She was gazing at the magical tornado, then took her eyes off it and looked his way. O'Bannon held his breath when he saw Rana smile.
He turned back to the tornado and clasped his hands together.
Please, please, please. I'm due for some good luck. Please, please, please, let it be Rana.
The tornado began to slow. O'Bannon drew an anxious breath as the names became readable again.
The swirling stopped. His eyes flickered all around looking, for his name.
JIMMY O'BANNON AND . . .
His mouth fell open. Oh come on! Does the whole friggin' universe hate me or something?
Frowning, he turned to his right and spotted an overweight girl five desks away with thick glasses and very short dark hair.
"You got Audrie Sexton?" Jared patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck with that."
O'Bannon groaned. Audrie Sexton was one of those girls who didn't have very many friends, and the few she did have she followed around with the fanaticism of a stalker.
He returned his gaze to the names floating above them. Let's see who was luckier than me.
Jared got partnered up with Ursa Oberlin. Well, maybe he could convert her to the Believer column on Artimus' tally sheet.
Rosa wound up with Marcel Dubuque.
I wonder if he'll bitch to her about how he should be captain instead of me.
Rana's partner was . . . aw crap.
Gregory Lancemore. A white hot flame of anger surged through O'Bannon. He imagined Lancemore spending the entire project hitting on Rana.
Dammit. All the girls here at Salem and Lancemore had to get teamed with the one he was interested in.
Still fuming, O'Bannon glimpsed Artimus out the corner of his eye. His friend stared at the floating names with his mouth agape.
"Yo, man. What's up?" O'Bannon scanned the names. When he came to Artimus and his partner, his body seized up. Shock kept him from blinking. His eyes stayed locked on the two names next to one another.
ARTIMUS RAND AND CECILIA MALFOY.
TO BE CONTINUED