Chapter Two - The Horn of a Dilemma
Two months earlier, in May.
The house-elves have really outdone themselves, thought Gabrielle, as she examined the study carol. It was the one closest to the odd little corner in the very back of the library. Gabrielle liked to pull the high-sided desk over to the acute angle that the walls formed. It made a very quiet and private spot. She liked the seclusion when she got a letter from George, at least when she got a letter that had not yet burst into song, or when she was depressed. Like she was feeling presently. Except now the house-elves had welded the nearest of the study carols to the floor, the deformed tiles looking like hands grabbing the legs. Gabrielle knew that she had neglected to return the furniture to its rightful place on occasion, but this was completely uncalled for.
The depression was brought on by the last two essays she had turned in for Wand Arts. The assignments had been returned to Gabrielle with a great number of sentences circled in flickering red, with the demand "Expand!" written next to each one. She was the only one expected to redo the assignments in her class. It was not fair, and Gabrielle knew the work on warming charms was at least 'Acceptable' because that was what Monique had received as a mark after, for the most part, copying Gabrielle's essay. Two things occurred to Gabrielle. The first was that she should see what Monique had changed and use that. The second was that she should quit letting Monique see her work, as either Mademoiselle Deudancorp or Mademoiselle Deudancorp had noticed the similarities, and was punishing the wrong party. That did not explain last week's rejected work though, sighed Gabrielle, or all the last several months. The twin professors, one for charms and one for transfiguration, seemed to have taken a disliking to Gabrielle from the very start. It did not help at all that she had to use the wand from Maman, with the hair from Grandmere as its core, instead of her real wand, just because she had made the mistake of having it out that very first class. Gabrielle found that magic with the second, twisted wand tended to be erratic. Painfully so, at times. For which she had apologized all ready.
If she was going to let herself sink into misery, decided Gabrielle, it was going to be in private. She slunk along the rear wall of the library, quickly slipping past any occupied aisles. Gabrielle checked the legs of the study carols until she found one that would still slide. The elves had been very busy, and it was too far from the niche for her to drag unless she wanted everyone in the library staring at her. There was a way around that though.
"Eh, Pepi-Z?" whispered Gabrielle. The zombie pygmy puffskein, just a red wool bobble now, bounced and tugged at its tether in acknowledgment. "Can anyone see?" Two tugs meant no. The little ball of yarn was tied by a thread to a clip in her hair. Gabrielle had started the habit of wearing her first pet in her hair shortly after Madame Chouisse's cat started living with them. Madame Chouisse had been feeling a little ill when Gabrielle had last been brought around to do chores for her. The aging witch had gone from feeling under the weather to being under a healer's care to being under the ground so quickly! It was a shock, but not as much as the arrival of a very unhappy goblin, in a formal black frock coat and top hat, at Delacour manor's door. The goblin, who Gabrielle had initially feared was there to reclaim the Gringotts inkpot that Fred Weasley had given her, was bleeding from his arm from several deep scratches. Those were undoubtedly from the stiff, petrified black cat that the goblin held by its puffed tail. A black cat that had been bequeathed to Gabrielle by the deceased Madame Chouisse, and a black cat that was still terrified of Gabrielle years after she had shattered herself against the wall in the Chouisse home. Gabrielle had always been sorry about her effect on the animal, and so had tried to make the cat comfortable in its new home. Then the cat ate poor Pepi-Z. For Poisseux, Gabrielle's zombie toad, that was an outright declaration of war. The spellotape-bodied toad could not manage vicious, but it could do relentless. The ersatz amphibian's vengeance burned night and day, and he harried the cat whenever he managed to catch up. Fortunately, Pepi-Z was not digestible, aside from his licorice tongue which was now very much shorter, and her pet was coughed up in a large hairball. At least, it had been fortunate for him; Gabrielle had had to clean up the mess. After a good, vigorous washing, Gabrielle hit upon the idea of clipping the little bobble to her hair for safety, like the wizard at the wedding who had the dove. Pepi-Z also made a good lookout - an amazing one, really, if one took into account that he did not seem to have eyes.
Gabrielle took her handbag from her canvas knapsack. It was all she carried in it really. The handbag, and its magicked liner from George, held everything else. Gabrielle slid her finger along the seal to open it, then slowly worked the study carol into it. This was the easy part. The hard part was getting something so large back out, since she had to work out which bit should come out first. It might come out upside-down.
v - v - v - v - v
Comfortably hidden from the world, and with a thick book on the entire spectrum of heating charms, Gabrielle started the tedious task of reworking her essay. It was possible, thought Gabrielle, that getting a chance to redo work was better than receiving a poor mark, but nothing seemed to satisfy either Mademoiselle Deudancorp. It was not that Gabrielle did not try. She put in a good amount of effort to complete assignments that were perfectly acceptable for others, which was why Monique copied them when she fell behind. This meant, though, that Gabrielle had twice the workload for Wand Arts as anyone else: the original assignment, and then whatever was required to "Expand!"
Pepi-Z jumped on his tether just as Gabrielle finished adding details as to why a cooling charm was not actually the reverse of a heating charm. She regretted mentioning the other charm at all, and had done so just to pad out a paragraph. Now the essay was half again as long as required. The tidbit about the cooling charm had come from one of George's letters. They were full of asides like that, and curiously devoid of declarations of affection. Still, the thought cheered her, he does write. The mutual correspondence had nearly not begun at all, as Gabrielle had failed to account for the absolutely ridiculous cost of an International Post owl. She had had to beg for an advance on her allowance, to send a reply that consisted mostly of apologies for how slow she had been to reply. Papa was certainly not going to give her extra to send letters to "that Englishman." Maman was not inclined to increase her funds either, since it kept her from buying clothes that were normal. Thankfully, George's next letter included return postage, which Gabrielle took as an important sign. It also included order forms, badly translated. Gabrielle blamed that on Fred.
"Toc Toc!" chirped a cheery voice. A head full of brunette curls levered itself over the front of the study carol, tipping it forward so that Gabrielle had to grab it to steady it. It was her best friend, Monique. "Allo Gigi! I found you."
"Hi, eh, Moany," replied Gabrielle, purposefully using the nickname Monique disliked.
"It's Nicky."
"It's Gabrielle."
"Everybody calls you Gigi," pouted Monique, dropping back down.
"You aren't just everybody, Monique," said Gabrielle. In the formal atmosphere of the manor houses, using one's proper name seemed natural. Gabrielle liked her name, but there were plenty of girls who wanted to escape the formality or gain a new identity. In some cases, Gabrielle could see why. Alhertine became Allie, Afrodille became Dilly, Logestilla became Tilly, and Brunelle became, thankfully, just Nelle. Thankfully because it was becoming... silly. Gabrielle's roommate, Esmeraude, refused to be the shorter Esme and dubbed herself Lucretia. On the very first night, Lucretia, then Esmeraude, had drawn a line down the center of the room with her wand. Gabrielle was mostly okay with that because a line worked both ways. As long as it did not move. They were polite to each other, but did not talk much. Once the girl had decided to become Lucretia, her side of the room was always much darker, even with Gabrielle's side of the windows uncovered. Smokier too, which would have been a real problem had not the resident prefect done a charm for her. Even Gabrielle had been Elle, which was not too bad since it could have been Gabby, for a short time. Then the modified howler from the twins had arrived, loudly, and quite badly, singing her praises as Gigi to the entire Dining Chamber. All because Gabrielle had mailed back a completed order form.
"Aw, you're sweet. Gabrielle then. Are you hungry? We're going to have a picnic down by the river. You've -got- to come. What are you working on?" asked Monique.
Gabrielle slumped. "I have to, eh, rewrite the stupid Wand Arts essays."
"Really? Merlin, Mademoiselle Deudancorp surely has the wand out for you."
"Mademoiselle Deudancorp also, I think," added Gabrielle. It was a standard Beauxbatons joke. As was the one where it was said that Madame Maxime only had to pay one salary because Mademoiselle Deudancorp only thought she had a twin, and was really doing twice the work. People said it even though they saw the two of them in the Dining Chamber, sharing one plate. One of the professors would work on the meat, the other would work on the vegetable, and each would feed the other in turns. Gabrielle found it oddly disgusting to watch.
"You probably shouldn't have hit her with - "
"It was not my fault and I have apologized for that already. Many times," interrupted Gabrielle bitterly.
"You know, some sun would improve your mood. You're so pale, a little color would look nice on you," said Monique after a moment.
Even while feeling picked on, the assertion made Gabrielle smile. Ever since she had met Monique, her friend had said those exact words, more or less, as soon as the springtime started turning to early summer. It was very silly. Gabrielle was pale, and she stayed that way. She did not tan, nor did she burn. No matter how often she was brought to a beach, or how long she laid on a blanket on the lawn. Yet when the weather turned warm enough, Monique, who not only tanned but did so spectacularly, would always insist that what Gabrielle needed was some color.
Gabrielle supposed that a break had been earned. The other essay needing rework, a treatise on transfiguring wooden boxes, had fewer marks on it anyway. "All right, I'll come," said Gabrielle. She felt better already, and she wondered if she could leave the study carol here, so she could use it later. Realizing that she would have to come back to it to finish the extra work, -and- her normal work, was ruining her mood again though, so she decided not to think about either.
"Do you think we'll see Impy?" asked Monique with exaggerated casualness.
Gabrielle sighed. Of course they would, he always turned up whenever Gabrielle stepped beyond the palace's formal garden's walls. Impy, short for Impudanae, the name she had given him, was a huge unicorn that had become completely obsessed with Gabrielle during her second Natural Arts trip to the Fey Woods. It was supposed to be every girl's fantasy: a gorgeous, silvery-white unicorn at one's side, defending one from enemies and whisking one to amazing magical places. The reality was she did not know how to ride, her classmates were really not her enemies, and, while the unicorn was breathtakingly beautiful and graceful, it was also very large, armed with sharp hooves and a meter of horn, and possessed of almost no depth perception. Impy had, admittedly quite gracefully, crushed the bones in Gabrielle's foot, twice. The first time had been the worst. Her shrieks of agony had panicked the noble animal, and Impy then defended her viciously from any and all attempts to help. Professor Elevagre, who taught the Natural Arts, ended up silencing her and telling her that she had to hop back to the wards at the garden's wall. That had been horrible, particularly with almost seven hundred kilo of distraught magical beast jostling and nudging her nervously. Gabrielle learned that the human foot had nearly as many bones as the human hand, and that the pain of Skele-Gro was proportional to the number of bones needed, not the size of the bones needed.
The second time her foot was crushed, her right foot this time, was only two weeks later, when Gabrielle found herself pinned between the field-stone wall surrounding the palace grounds and the huge animal. Impudanae had cut in closer to nibble a wild saluberry vine - excellent for concentration, may cause memory loss - as he kept pace beside her, and she had had no way to dodge his powerful hoof. The school's healer, Monsieur Maltranchier, had prescribed another night of Skele-Gro, and thick metal boots that she was to wear at all times when she was outside the boundary wall, to cut down on potion expenses. Few things are as mortifying as slowly clomping along after everyone else in over-sized iron galoshes.
There was a bright side, though, to trudging about in metal footwear. Gabrielle could now race from the Grand Entrance Hall to the balcony of the Glass Tower without even stopping once. And, her legs were no longer knobby-kneed sticks; they could be considered almost shapely even by Fleur's standards. Besides, the metal protection worked.
"I am, eh, sure he will find me," shrugged Gabrielle. Monique loved all things unicorn.
"Only... I invited Tristen to come, and he said he would," grinned Monique sheepishly.
"What? Monique! I can not go, if that is the case. If Impy sees-"
"I think it will be all right..."
"No! Have you forgotten Elmsley?" demanded Gabrielle. Had Monique lost her senses? Pippin Elmsley had inadvertently strayed too close to the unicorn and Gabrielle, and had been gored for no other reason than being a boy. Not seriously, thankfully, because Gabrielle had grabbed Impy's tail. That had done nothing but make the unicorn turn his head, and for his horn to miss Elmsley's heart. And, of course, to drag Gabrielle along the ground until a hoof knocked her silly.
"He will be all right if he is holding my hand," explained the brunette, who promptly blushed. Ah, thought Gabrielle.
"Eh, when did you become such a chaude lapin?" teased Gabrielle. "I thought it was, eh, Royden that -"
"He is a complete berk!" interrupted Monique. "Tristen is much nicer. And cute!"
Gabrielle put on a mock frown. "You only want me there for Impy then?"
"That's right! Also, you could use a lot more sun. You spend too much time in the library," said Monique. Gabrielle started to gather up her things. She also thought she spent too much time in the library, but where else could she find things to satisfy the demand to expand? "Anyway," continued Monique. "Who had all the chaperones following her and her hot date? Now go get your boots and meet us by the gates. I'm off to the kitchens!" Gabrielle watched as her friend hurried off, every third step a skip. It was obvious, thought Gabrielle, that someone's plan was going well.
Gabrielle did not really need to go and get her protective footwear. The iron gear was in her handbag. Most things were. Gabrielle had decided that Lucretia needed her privacy to do whatever she did in her dim corners. All Gabrielle needed to do was to pull the boots out where no one else could see. The fewer people who knew about the handbag, of course, the better. She picked up the thick charms books. Leaving the study carol where it was was one thing, leaving books about was quite another. A jiggle from the woolen ball made her look up - Monique was back.
"Remember to wear something under your robes. You can't get tan with them on," called Monique a bit too loudly. A chorus of shushing came from the aisles. It was not, Gabrielle knew, conscientious students, but stuffy, self-appointed guardian books doing it. Monique made a face at the shelf she was nearest, then turned and rushed off again.
Gabrielle headed for the Entrance Hall of the palace ruminating on the meaning behind Monique's comments. Wear something under her robes? She always wore something under her robes. Why wondered Gabrielle, did Monique suspect otherwise? It was no where near warm enough for that to be a good idea anyway. The needling about the hot date bothered Gabrielle a little as well. Monique was referring to the Halloween Ball, to which George had come as Gabrielle's escort. It had taken quite a lot of effort on Gabrielle's part to get him to agree, which had included threatening to burn order forms and sending back the special boxes that came by owl. Even still, they, for Fred had to be involved - Gabrielle was sure of it - had demanded something in return. That something was the ridiculous requirement that she try out for a spot on the dormitory quidditch team's first-year practice squad. As a beater. Each dorm had its own team; there were seven teams this year, three more than usual.
And Gabrielle had done so, even though the school's brooms did not work properly. She often got the one that seemed to cut out every few seconds, which meant Gabrielle had to climb madly for altitude between plummets. She was surprised to admit it to herself, but it had been fun. Gabrielle had no trouble finding bludgers to hit even with her erratic, pitching flight, and she was sure she would have been able to hit them harder with practice. Of course, the other observers found her attempt hilarious, while the team's coach found the rain of bludgers onto the other fliers horrifying. Gabrielle was teased for weeks as the Delacour Death-Blossom and, suspiciously, the Blond Bludger. The twins' true interest was revealed when they asked for the medical report following the single practice. George wrote that Fred had been disappointed, but Gabrielle herself had been appalled, and was very glad she had not been able to hit the iron balls any harder.
Still, reminisced Gabrielle, it had been worth it to have George there. A niggling thought opined that it was he who should have done the begging and she who should have set the conditions, but since the result would have been the same she ignored it. Her friends were stunned to meet him, partly, thought Gabrielle, because they had not actually believed her, and partly because, in his dark robes with the shoulders trimmed in Re'em fur, George stood out like, well, like a man among boys. He was quickly the center of attention, because of that and because, regardless of laws, prohibitions, and threats of punishment, the market for Wheezes had been seeded. George was a celebrity, and Gabrielle proudly clung to his arm. He danced through the night almost exclusively with her; his only other partners were the professors, both witches and, quite briefly, wizards. The traitorous thought pointed out that George could hardly have done otherwise - if he danced with one covetous onlooker he would have to dance with a dozens. Gabrielle thought that natural, of course, as it was their fate to be together. So there had been no need to mention his visit to Maman and Papa.
That Gabrielle had monopolized George's attention made her the target of envious stares, jealous whispers, and hostile glares. It was like she had become Fleur for the evening. The sudden interest was particularly notable among the second class and terminale class witches, who saw, as did Gabrielle, potential husband material. Not that she needed such motivation, but Gabrielle did not leave George's side, nor the protection of his quick wand. A wand which, when there was a break in the dancing, got busy causing trouble. The little fountain that normally supplied wine for the formal dinners still spouted only butterbeer more than six months later. Since it had also supplied the professors, Gabrielle always suspected its altered state was partly responsible for the extra work. A large, unexpected display of Weasley Wildfire fireworks closed out the night, and made Gabrielle wonder if Fred had made the trip as well.
While Gabrielle knew that it was probably George himself, she still considered the possibility that it was his antics that had made all the chaperones follow them so closely. It was certainly likely that they believed they had to protect her, ignoring her reassurances. He was one of the infamous Weasley twins, a very little bit older, and English, while she was part Veela and, if she had been Fleur, the object of lecherous desire. All that their conspicuous watching and disruptive coughing had done was to ruin her strategy for a kiss at the end of the night, and to fail to protect poor Natuche and stop Tibault Granencole.
Gabrielle did not like remembering the last part. She still believed that what she had done was right, but there was always the bowel-tightening worry as to whether anyone else would think so. There was also the guilt she felt because Impudanae had been hurt. While that fact had explained things well enough, Gabrielle knew the unicorn seemed to love her, and she had in some way used him. Nursing the beast back to health did not feel like sufficient penitence.
v - v - v - v - v
The iron boots made a small 'ting' when they slipped past each other as they walked. It was a pleasant kind of sound to Gabrielle's ears. It meant, for one thing, that she was not in the library. It also alerted others to her presence. The small knot of fellow students by the garden gate turned to her. Allie and Dilly were there, so was Tristen, looking a little sheepish, and... Lucretia? Behind Gabrielle's roommate was a taller, cloaked figure, all in black and wearing gloves even in the early summer's warmth. Monique was not there.
"Hello Gigi," greeted Dilly cheerfully. "Where's Nicky?"
"Eh, she was going to the kitchens," replied Gabrielle. She tried not to stare at the figure behind Lucretia. It seemed to Gabrielle that her roommate hardly ever left the shared room, and now she had found someone as weird as her?
"Here she comes!" pointed Allie. She waved madly. Lucretia heaved a heavy sigh. Gabrielle turned to see Monique struggling down the path from the palace with two large baskets.
No one moved, so Gabrielle suggested, "Tristen, you, eh, should help, yes?"
"Me? I mean, uh, sure." Tristen resigned himself to the task, and hurried back toward Monique.
"Where were you Gigi? Nicky started looking for you ages ago," asked Allie.
"I was in the library, in the back," explained Gabrielle. Tristen had reached Monique, who gratefully handed him both baskets.
"That's where I told her to look," claimed Dilly. "I bet a galleon she went to the Bone Tower anyway." The Bone Tower was where the Wand Arts classes were held. Gabrielle frankly avoided it as much as she could. Tristen, she noticed, was also struggling, but was trying not to show it. If you watched how far apart his feet were when he walked, though, it was obvious.
"I would have told her to start looking under the staircases in the Green Tower," said Allie. "Some of those niches and cupboards are really big."
"Sounds like someone has done some exploring! I wonder with who-oo-oo?" teased Dilly.
"I - I - I meant I -heard- that they were big," said Allie quickly.
"And why would I be there?" demanded Gabrielle. "What are you saying?" She thought she did the outrage really well.
" I - No, Gigi. I didn't mean - You always hide when you get a letter."
"A hot letter!" added Dilly.
"I do not hide. I just want some privacy," explained Gabrielle. Anyway, anecdotes about customers were not really very hot, nor were tips from the workshop. But, thought Gabrielle, he does write.
"Mordicai, perhaps we can wait somewhere less... banal?" suggested Lucretia archly.
"Eh, you are not coming then?" asked Gabrielle. It would have been a surprise.
"Please. We are going down to the shady grove, to summon the shadows there," explained Lucretia dramatically.
"I never heard it called -that- before," whispered Dilly loudly to Allie. Lucretia launched a withering glare, then pulled her hood forward when the two girls started giggling and laughing.
Monique arrived ahead of Tristen, who was doing his best to look as if the baskets were nothing compared to the manly loads he would normally carry every day. "Can anyone do a feather-weight spell? Mine didn't really work, and -"
"Hey! Delacour!"
The girls looked to the shout. Mordicai looked away. The boy calling and jerking his thumb at Gabrielle was a fifth classmen named Drago. "I'll be right back," sighed Gabrielle.
"Gabrielle, don't go. Don't encourage that creep," advised Monique. "He's a bully."
No, thought Gabrielle, Drago was loud, rude, and quick to anger, but not a bully, not really. He was bigger than most boys even in the upper classes, and talented magically, which made him naturally intimidating. But Drago was just a noisy braggard compared to Granencole. "Don't worry Monique." It helped to know that Drago's idea of funny was flatulence.
Drago stepped away from his companions, who were busy trying to jinx each other. He had wavy black hair that always looked damp, and a thin goatee that added to his rank among the other boys. Girls that Gabrielle knew thought it just looked scraggly. Drago strode toward her, brimming with the confidence of knowing that others already knew to get out of his way. "Well? Come on."
"Eh, yes?" Gabrielle did not have to put up with rudeness, though.
"You know, is it here? Did it arrive?" This, thought Gabrielle, is why she was not afraid of Drago. His menacing boorishness could disappear in a second to be replaced by the puppy expecting a treat. And one day some other girl will figure that out.
Gabrielle was about to reply truthfully when Pepi-Z jerked a warning. "I, eh, do not know what you mean." Drago's face went from confused to annoyed, then to a forced grin. Gabrielle thought that it actually hurt him to manage it.
"Is there a problem here?" rasped Madame Sombrevoir in her leathery voice. Her face was hidden, as usual, by a gauzy black veil, but that somehow made her gaze more noticeable.
"Eh, no, Professor," replied Gabrielle with a smile. Madame Sombrevoir taught Divining Arts, but she herself would say that she only offered advice on how to sense the Hidden Realm. Gabrielle learned that Madame Sombrevoir assigned marks based on attendance and behavior. One only needed to show up and remain quiet to receive an acceptable mark. Higher marks were earned by actually doing the exercises and attempting to See. If one had talent, then one was Outstanding. Gabrielle liked the class; Madame Sombrevoir had said she had true talent. While only a few others managed murky mists, Gabrielle had seen very detailed images, twice, in the classroom's large crystal ball. Unfortunately, both visions had been about the manufacture of incense. Gabrielle learned that she was, according to the Professor's diagnosis, too grounded by the sensory humours. Exercises to find other guideposts to the Hidden Realm, by plugging her nose and coating her tongue with a tar-like extract, had not so far been anything but unpleasant. "We - eh, his palm. I was going to, eh, read his palm." Drago rolled his eyes.
"Ah, it is good to practice. Mademoiselle Desgoths and Monsieur Pommpier will forgive me if I am a little late," said Madame Sombrevoir. "Begin."
With a huff of irritation, Drago extended his left hand out to Gabrielle, and tried to look like he was not actually a part of the proceedings. Gabrielle took the offered palm with some of the same irritation; it had been a ridiculous thing to say. It was only because the Professor was there that it was the first thing she thought of. Drago, noted Gabrielle, did not clean under his fingernails, possibly ever. At least the dirt on his palm made the lines stand out. "Eh..."
"Start with the fate line. Where do you think he is right now?" encouraged her teacher.
Gabrielle peered closer, and traced the line with her fingertip. Using the distance from the heart line to the fate line and the Sauvage ratio, she picked out a spot. A spot near a tangle of wrinkles.
"He is in the fifth class," hinted Madame Sombrevoir. "And barely acceptable, I'll add." Gabrielle shifted her finger slightly. The tangle looked, with the light just right, a little like flames. It was also the spot she picked out. "Ah, you see it too, yes?" Gabrielle swallowed nervously. The meaning, if not the evidence, was clear: an accident with fire would soon befall Drago. A bad accident, for it to be on the fate line, and Gabrielle had a package in her handbag for the older boy containing, besides more Poot Powder, a Weasley Wildfire Door-Knocker, Deluxe. What could the Professor See?
"Any time you are ready to let go is good for me," said Drago impatiently.
"You, eh, might have an accident..." started Gabrielle tentatively.
"That's talent! An accident might happen - that is good to know. It's the very definition of the word." Drago pulled his hand back.
"Do not be afraid to give bad news, my pet. You must use the Gift," declared Madame Sombrevoir. She addressed Drago. "She has Seen a fiery accident in the near future. Be aware of candles and try to wear leather. I must be going now."
"Completely zinzin," muttered Drago, even while scrutinizing his own palm. Pepi-Z gave Gabrielle the all-clear signal.
"Do you, eh, still want it?" asked Gabrielle.
Drago gave her a confident grin. "Are you an idiot? Of course I want it - took months to save up enough. I'll just be careful. Anyway, I don't believe in that stuff. Come on, I've got... things to do."
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle walked beside the unicorn with her hand tangled in its silky, flowing mane. With the metal galoshes on, it was safest to be right next to Impy, where it was impossible to be accidentally poked by his horn. Gabrielle had returned to her friends in time to overhear her Divining Arts professor explain the intended ceremony to her roommate and companion. Out of curiosity, and probably being slightly rude, Gabrielle had asked about their plans and expressed some surprise, since, from what Gabrielle could gather, Lucretia was definitely just among the acceptable. Her roommate returned the slight, dismissing Gabrielle as being "hopelessly light". Gabrielle took offense, more for the term hopelessly than the combination, although she really had no idea why her weight should matter. Madame Sombrevoir then warned Lucretia not to underestimate the "dark aspect" surrounding Gabrielle. Lucretia followed that by asking if that was why Gabrielle cried out in the night. Gabrielle went wooden; she had nightmares, yes, but who would not after the events in Britain? Madame Sombrevoir just patted her head gently before leading the two black-clad figures away. Which left Gabrielle wondering what had been meant by either witch, and, again, what Madame Sombrevoir had Seen.
Someone, noticed Gabrielle, had managed a successful feather-weight charm. Allie now swung one basket casually while Dilly carried the other. The two girls bounded ahead, stopping to poke their wands into interesting knotholes and crevices, fearless in the bright sunshine and with Impy nearby. Monique and Tristen had joined hands even before they had left the formal garden. Gabrielle did not blame Tristen for wanting to be careful. Impudanae had galloped out from the edge of the woods almost immediately. The unicorn's large dark eyes had glared at the boy suspiciously, menacingly, but then Impy calmly turned to greeting Gabrielle, by way of gently chewing her hair. While initially held somewhat stiffly, the joined hands were now quite comfortable with each other, to the point that Monique and Tristen were presently bumping shoulders as they conversed. It made Gabrielle long for something more than letters. But, she reminded herself, he does write.
They reached the river, and Monique's chosen spot. It was a rocky outcrop that bent the river around it, with full sun but also near the shade of some trees where the river unbent. The river itself ran fast, and was still swollen from spring rains. It was never good for more than wading, but today even that looked questionable. Allie and Dilly dropped the baskets and slid off their robes, revealing very muggle T-shirts and what they told Gabrielle were Bermuda shorts. The two girls made their way to the bank of the river to look for weird muggle artifacts that sometimes turned up. Or kappas, which Dilly hoped they would find even though the fact that the creatures were not native to France made that possibility very remote.
Monique undid her robes, revealing a swimsuit. Gabrielle was glad to see it was a one-piece; sometimes Monique reminded Gabrielle of Fleur's maid of honor, Gisselle. She could try too hard. Monique pulled a blanket from one of the baskets and lay down in the sun she craved. Tristen wore a quidditch jersey from his dormitory's practice squad and denims. He sat down beside Monique, pretending to look at the river on the other side of her legs.
Gabrielle stayed in her robes, and led Impudanae over to the trees. She was not sure if Impy was completely safe to be near Tristen, and anyway it had been a while since she had groomed the unicorn. Gabrielle had learned how to do so when she was helping Impy recover from the... incident... with Tibault. Helping had really only meant holding onto the beard-like tuft of hair on his chin to keep him calm, while Professor Elevagre worked. Not much effort, castigated the treacherous thought, after what had happened. Which was, added a more loyal thought, being decidedly harsh. Gabrielle pulled the brushes from her handbag, which set Impy's head bobbing. It was a good way to assuage her guilt, whether or not she should feel any. She set to work.
There was a shriek and a splash. Gabrielle ducked under Impy's neck to see the cause. Dilly had slipped while climbing over a log, and had tumbled over backwards into the river. It was something Allie found very funny. Dilly, on the other hand, was panicked. "Zut! My wand! Zut!" She struggled to regain her footing. Gabrielle could see the wand in the current. "Allie! Help me!" struggled Dilly. "Merde!"
Allie started to clamber back over the slick log. Gabrielle, who was downstream anyway, had already drawn her wand, her -real- wand. She broke into a run, then leaped into the air to land on one knee, simultaneously bringing her wand up crisply. "Accio Dilly's wand!"
There were benefits to having a father who worked in the Ministry, and to living in a large manor house. One was the ability to practice magic outside of school, undetected and unsupervised. Especially the dramatic pose. The spell worked, and the lost wand dragged itself from the water, bumping along the ground in a jerky series of hops. Gabrielle held her wand high and concentrated. Dilly's wand was already safe, but Gabrielle wanted it to come it to her magically.
It did not, but that was all right because Allie had come running over to thank Gabrielle, breaking the spell. It was less okay that Dilly did the same, since the girl had managed to completely soak herself, and her hug was cold and wet.
"That was incredible, Gigi! You saved my wand!" gushed Dilly.
"Ah no, Dilly. You are all wet," chastised Gabrielle.
"I slipped. Fell in." It was an unnecessary explanation.
"I mean you are getting me wet too."
"Oh, yes, you're right," said Dilly stepping back. "Sorry."
"She is such a klutz. I didn't know you knew that spell. Where did you learn it?" asked Allie.
"I am no such thing," protested Dilly. "Something grabbed me! It might have been a kappa."
"You said you, eh, slipped before," reminded Gabrielle.
"I slipped -because- something grabbed me."
"Uh Dilly? I don't think kappas live in water that shallow," doubted Allie.
"You don't know how deep it is," challenged Dilly.
"Eh, yes, we do. You fell in," explained Gabrielle. "It is no more than ten -"
"Under the log it might be - it would be deeper," suggested Dilly. "If I were a kappa lying in wait for prey, that's where I would be." That, thought Gabrielle, actually made sense. It may not have been a kappa, but something could be lurking there. Perhaps a grindylow.
"You should get out of those clothes, Dilly, so we can dry them," said Allie. "You'll come down with the Grippe if you don't."
"I'm not taking my clothes off in front of Tristen," declared Dilly.
"You are cold - your brain has stopped working. And we can see your nipples anyway," said Allie. "Go behind the trees; I'll bring you your robes."
"I don't want him to see my underwear."
"You want him to think that you, eh, do not wear any?" asked Gabrielle curiously. Dilly had not thought that through and had no answer, so she left for the trees with her arms crossed over her chest.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle went back to grooming Impudanae. She was, she decided, very under-appreciated. She had saved the wand with, anyone would have to admit, a truly excellent bit of spellwork, even if it had cost her a small rip in her robes. She let Monique copy her essays. She had a unicorn if any of them wanted to make a boy hold their hand. These were all signs, determined Gabrielle, that she was not only a proper witch, but an above-average one. So it was not right that her friends always brought up minor mishaps from the past.
Monique and Allie had decided to make a fire to warm up Dilly and dry her clothes. The secret underwear was white with pink trimming, nothing, thought Gabrielle, out of the ordinary. Monique and Tristen headed into the woods together to find wood. They took much longer and came back with much less than one would expect. A stern stare was all it took for Monique to turn pink. Dilly was useless as well when it came to collecting wood. She moved like she was afraid that her robes would blow open.
Once enough wood was piled together, it was time for a fire spell. Gabrielle was good at conjuring flame. The old Floo connection at Delacour Manor had been her practice ground. It was not even a Floo anymore, really, just a ignored hearth. She could conjure weak flames and hot ones, as small as a candle's light or enough to fill a large bowl. Which was, she supposed, why her girlfriends were not letting her start the fire. Gabrielle tried to point out that this time the wood was stacked on bare rock, that the wet spring was very different from the dry, end of the summer, and that there was very little wind to whip up cinders. That had not been the case last time. But really, thought Gabrielle, the meadow had been full of dead grass anyway, the fact it was now ash had not changed much. Also, Gabrielle recalled reading somewhere that fire played an important role in renewing forests. It had only been a small section of forest in any case. She did not have a good idea of what a hectare looked like, let alone thirty of them, but it did not sound too large. Just because the trees in the forest were being grown for wands and brooms did not make it more her fault.
Of course, fire did not play any role in renewing the bowtruckle population. Really, the opposite. That was what Gabrielle regretted most about the incident. And, the howler from Maman. Gabrielle had to help Professor Elevagre tend the injured creatures as part of the detentions, and the little burned, broken bodies made her cry afterward. At least the poor bowtruckles were not angry with her. She did not even need to wear her leather gloves to handle them.
The Natural Arts class was also a favorite of Gabrielle's. She enjoyed the flying, and knew she would be better at it if the school's brooms worked correctly. The study of plants was a little dull, and often had too much dung associated with it, but the study of the local magical fauna was very interesting. Professor Elevagre, a slight, graying wizard who one would never guess had once been a chaser for the French National team, offered Gabrielle extra credit for helping with the various nervous beasts. That was important when it came to making up for tests of broom maneuverability - Gabrielle only passed if adding up the runs was allowed. Mostly, helping the professor consisted of holding the beast's tether, and stroking the fur, feathers, or scales. She also helped with Madame Maxime's huge, flying Abraxan horses - she had the metal footwear already. There was too much dung involved with that as well, but Professor Elevagre was very, very grateful. There was still the danger of being squashed or, worse, licked, but it was worth it for the Outstanding.
Gabrielle looked at the black blister still marring Impudanae's stifle. She used to think of it as the top of the unicorn's rear leg, but Professor Elevagre was, well, a professor after all. It was a remnant of the trouble with Tibault. Had it gotten larger? Gabrielle could not be sure. Her professor could not be sure about it either. There was definite consternation that the older boy had been able to hit the unicorn with any magic, let alone something that left a lasting wound. It was another reason that her role had gone mostly unexamined. There was nothing for it though, so Gabrielle opened the handbag again and dug around for the, hopefully, sealed jar of leeches.
Gabrielle did not really like this bit. It was not because the leeches were slimy and occasionally attached themselves to her hand as she pulled them from the jar. It was because, after feeding on the blister for a few minutes, the leeches, swollen and darker than they began, would drop off onto the ground. There they would writhe and twitch and then stop moving - forever. Gabrielle knew leeches were parasites, living off the essences of other creatures, but she still felt bad about their fate since they died because of her. She had asked Professor Elevagre about helping the suckered creatures. He had laughed and looked at her like she had lost her senses, saying the only people who wanted more leeches in the world were those who bred the ones for medicinal use. There were not many ways to comfort a leech.
v - v - v - v - v
Five leeches, one set of robes snagged on a horn, and one excellent example of the efficacy of the metal over-shoes later, Gabrielle was ready for some food. She noted with some smugness that the fire was less of a fire than a smoulder. She was sure she could have had it roaring. Which was, of course, why she had not been allowed to help. But this smoky attempt was just pathetic. Even Impy, who, as a creature of the forest, should be naturally nervous about smoke, seemed unconcerned. He investigated the damp clothing propped on sticks next to the meager fire.
Gabrielle sat down in the spot that had opened up when Tristen, because of the unicorn's proximity, squashed over to Monique. "Eh, what is in the baskets?" She pulled one over and looked in. Melons. A lot of melons. Gabrielle thought it was a little early for them, which probably meant these melons were grown magically. And, in Gabrielle's opinion, such were never quite as good as those grown with sunlight.
"We've got bread, cheese, and jam," announced Monique. "And melons. Oh, and what the house-elves said was ham. It didn't feel like it though."
"Didn't feel like a ham? What do you mean, Nicky?" asked Allie.
"Well, it was weirdly small and light," replied Monique. "Might be charmed though. The elves called it Iberico."
"Oh no! Impy! Gigi, he's eating my clothes!" yelped Dilly. The unicorn lifted its head at the outburst, white with pink trimming hanging from his mouth.
Gabrielle put the lid back on the ceramic jar of jam with a clatter. "That is gross, Impudanae. Come on, spit it out." Gabrielle went over to him to pull the item from his mouth. She tugged, he tugged. Gabrielle then remembered an important safety tip, and put one hand on the single, spiral horn. It was vital to know where it was pointing.
"Don't stretch it," called Dilly.
"Yeah, she can barely fill it out now," added Allie, drawing a gasp of mortification from her friend.
"Let go!" ordered Gabrielle, and she gave the bra a sudden yank. Impy had already dropped his end, letting Gabrielle jerk the underwear to her. It snagged on the Bermuda shorts, and those came along too, followed by the sticks propping them up. The make-shift drying rack and clothes toppled over. The long buried magical flame suddenly had more fuel, and better fuel than the punky branches collected from the ground. In short, the shorts caught fire.
The unicorn lurched away from the flare-up with a jolt sideways. Gabrielle, caught off-guard and still holding the horn, was pulled off her feet. She landed on the now crackling fire. This was more dry fuel for the revived, young flames, and they were anxious to make their mark in the world. A large, black mark for preference. They would scorch the world! Sadly, though, they died along with their brief, fiery dreams, smothered under Gabrielle's sprawled form.
The fire was out, but the embers were still hot. Gabrielle rolled off the pile and flapped her robes, wondering if she was burning. Monique was at her side immediately, slapping Gabrielle in the chest for reasons that the girl had better explain later. Allie pulled the singed clothing out of the former fire and was stamping on them. Tristen rolled on the ground, laughing himself breathless. Gabrielle wondered if she could get Impy to kick him. A little. And perhaps Dilly too, since her version of help was to smear the contents of a melon onto Gabrielle. Did no one, wondered Gabrielle, have a wand?
"I am fine, please, Dilly," said Gabrielle noticing that Dilly had reloaded. Allie held up the Bermuda shorts. There were only two holes that Gabrielle could see, but they were in spots that defeated the purpose of wearing them. "Eh, I am sorry," cringed Gabrielle.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle lifted the smoked, salted haunch to its hanger where it would age. Her arms were still strong, but were starting to go wobbly with age. There was a new ache today; a twinge in the left arm to join the arthritis in her hands. Her stomach had not been right all day either. It was times like this that made Gabrielle want to talk to her son about the business again. Seville knew the meat; could tell by touch and smell when it was ready. But the new daughter-in-law... She was a thin stick of a girl, no good for the farm. She made three times what Gabrielle could, in a good year, working at something in an office in the city. She would not be satisfied with a life of turning ham for Seville. Would Gabrielle have to sell what had been in the family for generations? It was too much to worry about now. The pain was greater, and she needed to sit, to catch her breath. She should have hired more help, and damn the costs. Even if it was only for the lifting. Perhaps lying down would help - better lie down than fall down. Blessed Mary, did it hurt! Gabrielle fumbled for her pocket, wondering if she had brought that little phone Seville had wanted her to carry. It was... she was...
Gabrielle opened her eyes. Monique and Allie peered down at her. Was she lying on the ground? "Gabrielle! Are - you - all - right?" asked Monique loudly. She sounded very far away, and looked blurry, but Gabrielle nodded since she already feeling better. Dilly, who had claimed not to be angry about her clothes, squeezed a deluge of water from the T-shirt she had worn earlier. Gabrielle struggled to sit up.
"What's wrong with her? Is she choking? No surprise the way she tried to shove the whole sandwich into her mouth," said Tristen.
"I don't think so. It might be the Seer's trance," explained Monique, waving her hand to shush him. "Gabrielle can really -See- things. Madame Sombrevoir said so." Gabrielle, who finally had cleared the food in her mouth, was feeling a lot better and could see Tristen roll his eyes and heard him mutter something about a fraud. A movement above her made her look up.
"Wait Dilly! No, I'm - " started Gabrielle before more cold water from the river rained down. Tristen was laughing again. Gabrielle decided she did not really like him much.
"Does that help?" asked Dilly innocently.
"Oh, yes. Thank you. I, eh, did say that I was sorry, about before," replied Gabrielle.
"I was only trying to help," claimed Dilly, a mischievous smile belying her words.
"This is like that muggle show, on those picture boxes, the one about the hotel," laughed Tristen.
"You were all gray in the face, Gigi," said Allie seriously. "We thought you might faint."
Gabrielle looked the remains of her lunch in her hands. It was soggy from Dilly's aid, but Gabrielle did not think she could eat it anymore even if it had not been soaked. It had been a wonderful ham, very intense, but it was also the final ham the farmer, or whoever that vision had come from, had put up. Had she just Seen someone die? Is that what she had felt? "I, eh -Saw- the farmer. I think he was dying! This was his last ham."
Gabrielle made a mental note to herself. Announcing that one has Seen someone die or was in the process of dying is a sure way to spoil a picnic. Especially if the one dying had touched some of the food. In unspoken agreement, Gabrielle and the other girls had decided that they had had enough of the ham, even, for Allie, after a single bite. Tristen, on the other hand, said that it wasn't like the farmer had died on top of the meat or anything. Gabrielle suspected that the boy was not so dense as to not notice the chill that assertion caused, since he went on to claim that it was only respectful to eat what might be the dead man's masterwork. No one else agreed.
"Did anyone put their name in for Professor Festeller's contest?" tried Tristen, to change the subject. He swallowed down another slice of ham. "I hope I'm chosen. Exploring ancient magical sites is bound to be better than another summer learning Ministry memo spells with Father - boring!"
"We did," answered Allie for her friend also. "I wish it was two from each year so we both could go."
"I don't want to win at all," said Monique. "But I, um, could use the extra credit for entering."
"You entered too, right Gigi?" asked Dilly.
"Of course," said Gabrielle. Not, she added to herself. Fleur had been the school champion for Beauxbatons in the Tri-Wizard tournament, so Gabrielle had been asked, reminded, and badgered about entering until she had put her entry into that same Goblet of Fire - a completely blank entry. Even though it had made a dog's mess of Monique's essay, Gabrielle did not trust that quill George had sent to work. Or not work. Gabrielle had plans for the summer, and they did not include poking her wand around dusty ruins. She would go to Britain again. Papa was sure to say yes; that only took time. Fleur was pregnant, the oven she had so diligently preheated finally baking, and would - Well, she would not need Gabrielle's help, of course, but Gabrielle was certain Mrs. Weasley would not say no.
"You're going to be picked," declared Monique with confidence.
"Why her?" asked Tristen. "I don't remember that she was near the top of the class rankings when they were posted at Winter Break." Gabrielle tried to recall what Wheezes from George were left at the bottom of the handbag. Tristen was annoying.
"I think she's getting an Outstanding in Divining Arts and Natural Arts," said Monique.
"Outstanding? But I saw that tryout of hers," said Tristen in a confused tone. "The Blond Bludger. I never saw anyone fly like that. Although fly might not be -"
"The school's brooms don't work properly," interrupted Gabrielle. She thought she had quite good form, in between bouts of the broom malfunctioning. There were two that worked for almost ninety seconds in a row, almost very nearly enough for her to make it through Professor Elevagre's obstacle courses. Finding at least one of the pair was difficult though. It had been so tempting to use the handbag. Thinking of the handbag reminded her of something labeled Bogey Blaster, without any other description. It was time to see what it did. Gabrielle started rummaging in the handbag.
"She has an Outstanding in Alchemical Arts too," smirked Allie. "At least Cendrillon does..." Gabrielle's face tightened. That was certainly not her fault. Professor Pleinbouillois was very old and very insane. He repeatedly referred to her as his daughter, and doted on her constantly. Failed potions, which were distressingly frequent, were cleared away and another attempt allowed. The marks on written works were adjusted upward when he realized who he was handing them back to. Gabrielle suspected that the professor was not quite clear on reality and believed that she was using a pseudonym to hide her true identity, and that only he could see through it. She hated the special treatment, her suspicious classmates hated it, and Gabrielle hated it twice over because a small part of her was glad for the reduced effort required. It gave her more time for Wand Arts.
"What do you mean?" asked Tristen.
Gabrielle found it best to say nothing at these times. What could she say? Nothing could explain the professor's insane behavior unless her being part Veela was included, and then people would stop listening and jump to the wrong conclusion. Monique did not refrain. "It means nothing, and she did nothing anyway," declared the girl loyally. "I know it'll be her. Fleur was the Tri-Wizard champion for us, you know."
"I knew that. I saved all the pict- uh, articles. Why should that matter?" Found it, thought Gabrielle, trying not to grin. Or cackle. She cupped the small packet in her hand. No one appeared to notice.
"Gabrielle is Fleur's lit- that is, younger sister." Okay, thought Gabrielle, Monique can still copy off me if she needs to.
Tristen knitted his brows. "She is?" But, decided Gabrielle to herself, Tristen had to go. She put her hands in her lap to open the Wheeze as discreetly as possible, not looking down at all.
Gabrielle received some help in diverting attention from Allie. "You're as bad Dilly here! How many Delacours have you come across?"
"What? Hey!" complained Dilly. "I knew she had a sister. I'm not the one covered in melon, either." Gabrielle glanced down quickly. She held two bright green objects, like beans. If she was not hiding something, she would have argued about what the melon coating implied.
"She could have been a cousin. They don't look much alike," said Tristen defensively. That produced a female moment of shared of disbelief. Lithe in body, petite in stature, silvery blond hair, blue eyes - yes, thought Gabrielle, how could anyone think she and Fleur were siblings? A second thought noted that Fleur would say shapeless, scrawny, colorless, and watery. But with Fleur so far away, Gabrielle did not listen much.
Gabrielle wondered if Tristen would fall for a direct approach. She could try smiling her best, and then ask him to eat the green bean shapes. It would probably work on someone like Ron if she was at the Burrow. Her other technique of discovering what new or unmarked Wheezes did, offering the victim's current order as credit for the next - George's suggestion - had worked well enough until she had come across Fred's Fish Floss. It had sounded completely gross, but the Wheeze was the color of and smelled just like candy floss mashed down into an oval lozenge. Silvain had taken the trade, and moments later disappeared in a cloud of smoke which, when it cleared, revealed a fish flopping on the floor with markings like the school uniform. Some kind of trout, remembered Gabrielle. It even had the shape of his glasses around its bulging eyes. And it -was- a fish, which needed water to breath. There had not been many choices, and the girl's lavatory had been right there...
A large white, equine head suddenly loomed as she recalled the uproar caused by Silvain's just-as-sudden return to normal form. He had required some extrication from the, eh, tight quarters. Gabrielle thought she was dead, expelled, that he would reveal her role in what had happened. Instead, Silvain foisted the blame onto Drago. In return, Gabrielle wheedled Silvain several tins of Poot Powder from George. That meant Drago only blacked one of his eyes.
Gabrielle grasped Impudanae's horn absently. The unicorn was licking the rescue melon from her robes, leaving a slick film of saliva in exchange. Gabrielle knew she would have to take the robes to the laundry directly. Or burn them. Impy dropped his head lower, into her lap, and Gabrielle pushed his horn away. That is really too much, she thought. Then she realized what his objective had truly been. The Wheeze was gone. Would it make him sick? "Impy!" cried Gabrielle. "Don't swallow it, please!"
"He's not eating my underwear again, is he?" asked Dilly. Gabrielle wrestled with the unicorn's thick, rubbery lips, trying to pry open his jaws before the Wheeze disappeared down his gullet. She had no fear of the large, tombstone teeth.
"No. It is something else," answered Gabrielle. Abruptly, the unicorn reared its head, shaking it back and forth, and began snorting. "Impy, no!" wailed Gabrielle. She was too late, the Wheeze was affecting him, and it was her fault he was suffering. Again. Impy's obvious distress alarmed her, and made her eyes tingle as tears welled up. Gabrielle got to her feet to try and calm the huge animal before anyone got trampled, and to get him to Professor Elevagre quickly. Impy sneezed.
It started at his hind legs, which buckled slightly even as the heavy neck raised his head. His front legs splayed out to the sides and his tongue lolled. Gabrielle thought he would collapse right there, but all the legs reversed direction at once and the unicorn's head snapped down in a huge spasm of a sneeze. A great shower of green mucus sprayed out, coating Gabrielle's face and chest. Squelchy bits hit her neck. She might have retched right then, but Impy's horn ended its downward arc right on the top of her head.
This time Gabrielle's legs did the buckling, and she fell to her knees. Impy sneezed again. Dilly shrieked in horror. Allie tried to cover the both of them with the blanket, spilling the food and drink. Gabrielle clasped her hands over her head in pain; they stuck to her hair. Another sneeze, and a rain of green. Monique, hindered by Tristen's grip on her, tried to help Gabrielle to her feet. Gabrielle's view of the world was spinning, so she staggered while Monique held her up. The unicorn sneezed violently, thrashing its head so mucus flew in gruesome ribbons. Its horn flashed like a sword. The picnic was over.
