Disclaimer: Parvati Patil and Friends are Harry Potter characters from the books, the movies and the games and other ancillaries. They are the IP of JKR.
Summary: Today, Parvati hits ROCK BOTTOM.
11. Where forgotten girls go
I would like to have said that I returned to the castle, and maybe I should have. In a couple of days the Tri-Wizard team would be leaving for France, and the rest of us would have to cope with being left out of the fun and games. I had duties to attend to, students asking for guidance, and an angry little girl that had suddenly been dropped on my lap. But I made my way, limping, down Diagon Alley to the Leaky, as though on autopilot. I needed somewhere to crash, and in my mind the ground was coming up fast to shatter my soul.
What did you expect, Parvati? Did you expect that after all the years of hell you put Blaise through, that he would somehow reconnect with you?
Of course, it was Tracey Davis. She works with him at St. Mungo's. They're both Slytherin. They've been friends for a long time, as long as the Golden Trio's been together, as long as Lav and I. Come to think of it, had it been me who was the interloper? Come to think of it, I knew nothing of Tracey Davis, other than the superficial knowledge of her house, and that she wasn't as obtrusive and mean like Draco's group. No, she was always more aloof and detached... like Blaise.
I am before the Leaky, and the banner of 'Welcome, Neville' flutters in the open window on the second floor. There's a low clutter of hearty warm chuckles emanating from the inside, inviting me in. My hand reaches the doornob, wanting to throw myself into Dennis's arms. No, wait. Damn. Into Hannah's arms. Into Hannah's arms.
I peak through the window, just in case.
The hall is nearly empty. I see Hannah, Dennis and Neville all gathered around one single table. They have their party hats on. Hannah has her guitar in her lap. They look so happy. They look so genuinely amused. Hannah shoves her guitar at Dennis, and Dennis picks up a tune as Hannah invitingly pulls Neville up, demanding that he dance with her. Neville is bumbling as usual, placing a hand on her hip, as though he were dancing at the Yule Ball.
This was Neville's going away party, I realise. It was a small get together among friends, to wish Neville good luck at the Tri-Wizards.
My scribbler starts to alert me that someone has sent me a message. It's enchanted to the shrill tone of Padma. I notice I've been standing at the door, holding on to the doornob for who knows how long? No, I don't want to go in. I don't want to interrupt their small gathering. I let go of the door and hurry away as my limping ankle would allow. They seem to have noticed my presence and I pick up my pace.
I don't want to be where I'm not wanted! I'm done with being left out for one night!
I hear Dennis coming out into the Alley, but by then I've already turned a corner and I am rapidly rushing down a street that is vaguely uncluttered and dark. I think I hear Hannah's voice calling my name. But then that, too, disappears into the distance, and I find myself in Knockturn Alley.
They say an ancient magic surrounds every stone of Hogwarts. Most of the secrets of Hogwarts, at least those discovered by now, were by design. Salazar wanted a dungeon and Gryffindor wanted a tower. But some magics are borne without a clue to where it came from. It exists, and no one seems to know who put it there. Perhaps we had forgotten them as well. Sometimes, secrets are nothing so great than a mere loss of memory.
Such was the case of the Room of Requirement. No one knew who built it, but merely that it was there. It existed mostly as a secret passed on through shy girls who wanted a private place, but suddenly it became the headquarters of Dumbledore's Army. It is an amalgam of potent wishes and hopes of beings. Perhaps the question is why wouldn't such a place exist?
I stand before such a place. Somehow, I feel like I have been brought here. It is a small inviting tavern that I have never seen. Not that I profess to have known much about Knockturn Alley. But it seemed so out of place from the dingy dark and dreary street from which I vanished to. I cannot help but enter this one.
It is cramped, but spacious, in a sense that each table is barely enough to accommodate two, and are sitting beneath low lying alcoves, as if to shield the inhabitants from prying eyes. I cannot see quite well who inhabits each private stall, but they are mostly girls, young women somehow drinking and smoking to themselves. I feel like I am in heaven. Everyone is hushed, as no one is really conversing. The few who do are barely whispering to each other.
I find myself a table and settle down, allowing the warmth of the hall to snuggle me closely. I look about for a menu, but no one bothers to come service me. I wait patiently a while, afraid of being obtrusive. Perhaps some of the other patrons would come help me. I crane my neck about, looking to see if I can catch an eye. But everyone is huddled. The light is too dim to make out anyone's faces, and they are all hunched over their drinks.
"Um..." I look around, wavering an uncertain index finger in the air, wanting to order. I want a beer. I want an Ashtray.
Someone settles a large sweaty pint and an ashtray before me. I look up to see a face covered in a cowl, her face only visible from the mouth and below.
"We don't talk much, here, Parvati Patil," she intones in a statement that seems so loud, but my ears know that it was barely a whisper.
"How do you know me?" I try to peer at her face, and I think I see shadowed eyes and a face covered in boils. Perhaps the poor woman is hiding some disfigurement. It's not my place to pry, and I doing want to waste such a good find.
"That I know you is enough comfort I can offer you tonight, Parvati Patil," she simply states. "That you have come here on your own... makes you welcome. Don't push your luck."
And as though she had apparated, she is gone from my sight. Something is wrong, but somehow her suggestion "not to push it" comes to the forefront of my mind. I try to settle in. The beer is tasteful but exceedingly strong. And my own pack of cigarettes seem stronger here. Soon the voices around me seem more muffled than before, and I feel deep and drowsy. I usually never drink alone. I think I hardly ever enjoy drinking alone. Today was a special occasion. And though I have a few beers by myself, now and then I am hardly a person to drink myself, by myself, to oblivion. Somehow as the intoxication settled in, warning bells flashed in my mind. Somehow I felt I was becoming too drunk than what was good for me.
I try to wave my arms about stubbornly.
"Hey!" I try to catch someone's attention, anyone's attention. Did the weird lady with the boils spice my drink? My head feels heavy. I try to look at the other occupants. I hadn't noticed it before, but they all seem to be wearing the same clothes, the same hair, all their faces hidden in shadows.
"Hey!" I try to reach out to grab on of the other occupants. And dutifully, the person turns around to see me.
Am I drunk? I can't seem to see her face. No matter how hard I concentrate, her face keeps shifting out of focus. The woman I tried to grab in the other aisle, she is staring at me squarely, but why can't I see her? I look around the room. Everyone seems to be staring at me. Everyone has turned from their aisle and is now staring at me straight in the face, but I can't see anyone their faces. They are not without a face, but somehow, I can't seem to concentrate on ... Is that Katie? Katie Bell?
"Is she awake?"
I think it's morning. The breeze is a cool autumn breeze that tickles my cheeks, and the air is fresh, but warm - not cold like the dawn. It's the feeling you get when you wake up at mid morning, after a good rest. But my head is heavy as lead and I feel the dank scent of beer-gas coming up from below.
"She's just drunk," the derisive snide tone is that of Blaise, and I am against jolted to my senses.
Where am I? Shit. I think I'm in Blaise's office again.
"Parvati Patil sprawled in the middle of Knockturn Alley, and all you can say is she's just drunk?" That's Hannah's voice.
"She was depressed, went out for a drink; Big Deal." I want to sit up and slap Blaise in the face.
"And why was she depressed?" Hannah asks sharply. You go, Girl! "What do you know, Blaise?"
Maybe I should get up, now. I don't want to put Blaise in too much of a bad position.
"She found us together, last night," Tracey gives her two cents.
Okay, I am going to keep my eyes closed until that pesky vixen goes away. I cannot believe that she's still here!
"Why would that bother her?" Oh, my God. Neville's here too. Why is Neville here? "I thought you two broke up."
"See, she's awake," Blaise says, dryly, "She's blushing."
Damn! That bastard.
My eyes open up with a start, and it takes a while to get accustomed to the brightness. I groan as I perch myself up in bed. I feel as though a carriage ran over me, and looking down, my robes certainly look as though it's been through much worse than that.
Dennis, Neville, Hannah, Fay, Tracey, Blaise. Oh, Joy.
"Look," Tracey looks down at her watch, "I've got to go to work. See you later, hon." She finishes by pecking Blaise on the cheek. Blaise offers to see her down stairs.
"This must be really awkward for you, Parvati," Neville mumbles as the two disappear down the stairs.
"Really, Neville?" I snap. "You think?"
"Cut him some slack, Patil," Dennis shoves a cup of tea under my nose. "We've all been combing the streets for you last night. We were all worried sick. Neville's the one who found you curled up by a garbage bin in Knockturn Alley."
Oh, Merlin. I stare into my tea cup, unable to look up. My face is burning. How's my hair?! Oh, Merlin, Tracey Davis just left with her healer scrubs on, looking sharp and glamorous. Oh, Merlin's beard.
"Are you really upset about Blaise, Parvati?" Neville asks with his big puppy dog eyes and all the concern in the world melting out from them like thick gelatinous sticky ooze.
"Stop pestering her, Neville," Hannah pulls him off me. "You should have joined us last night, Parvati."
"You seemed busy," I mutter in to the cup. I didn't want to sound petty that I was jealous of Neville. That I had felt that Neville had stolen 'my group' and had replaced me, and I just couldn't handle that after being replaced by Tracey Davis.
"Join who?" Fay looks up behind her thick glasses. Poor girl, she must have been left out as well. "Oh! That was you at the door, Parvati?" Okay. She's not such a poor girl, since she's the one leaving her self out. "I had no idea! I was just in the kitchen at the Leaky, looking about for some stuff to nibble on, and then everyone's all up in their arms, saying where's Parvati? Where's Parvati? And then Blaise rushes in with Tracey and they're also going Where's Parvati? Where's Parvati? That was silly."
Dennis gives her a long, sympathetic look. She blushes, he sighs and walks away.
Fay leans over to whisper in my ear. "I think he likes me." I swear, she probably tinkled herself.
"No," I reply flatly, "no, he's not honey."
Something's itching in the back of my mind. I can't grasp exactly what happened. Perhaps it was all a dream. I don't know.
"I say Katie Bell last night." I toss it out anyway, callously.
"Really? That's nice." Fay is giggling, "Who's that?"
"What?" I ask, incredulously. This is stupid. But somehow, really surreal. Fay Dunbar is the person who's supposed to know everyone, even though almost nobody knows her. "Katie Bell. You know. Quidditch chaser for Gryffindor's at Hogwarts."
"I thought Ginny was the Gryffindor Chaser." Hannah scratches her head.
What? I am staring at Hannah, but then again, Hannah was a Hufflepuff. But then again, she had been a Prefect. It was impossible for her know to know nearly everyone at school. Besides, we're talking about Katie Bell, here! Katie f***ing Bell!
"Before Ginny!" I groan. Perhaps's it's because of Ginny. Ginny eclipsed and totally blotting out anyone from recalling anyone else who played Quidditch? That's plausible.
"Dennis, help me out here."
"She must have been before my time," Dennis shrugs. Okay... I'm not sure. Did Katie graduate before or after Dennis came to Hogwarts?
"Neville?" I am bemused. Everyone's forgotten Katie Bell over Ginny Weasley. Figures!
But Neville stares at me with empty eyes.
"I'm sorry, Parvati," Neville looks sincerely confused. "Was she a friend of yours?"