Chapter 16-Bet, Bait, Broken

"And so the moral of this story is to never follow a woman, no matter how much you fancy her, into danger. Rather, grab her and tie her to a bedpost. Then, tie yourself to a nearby bedpost (perhaps the same one) and maybe the two of you will strike up a conversation on your inability to talk things out like a mature adult. It requires slightly less effort and zero fear of being turned into wizard-flavored flesh raisons by an Acromantula."

Patricia smiled as she read Albus's article in The Hogwarts Chronicle. They had detention, of course: hand scrubbing the gravestones in Hogsmeade until the entire place was spotless, but considering what could've happened, that was a minor punishment.

"Rose," she asked. "Do I look alright in this? I thought I'd put my hair in braids, but I look so dainty in those. I think I'll just leave it down."

"Smashing," her voice returned.

Pat turned around. "Are you even—" No. She quite obviously wasn't. In the last week since her ordered books had come in, Rose had transformed herself into the Nutty Professor, engrossing herself in magical laws and necessities needed for making a wand. Her red hair was now a ball of frizz floating about her head like a strange creature which had decided to take residency there.

"Rose," Patricia tried again, kneeling on the ground and resting her arms and chin on a stack of books. "What do you think I should do about Albus? I like him, but…he's still so immature. He's only fifteen. I don't want him to break things off for some stupid reason because he doesn't understand relationships and then destroy our friendship. We've still so much left to enjoy of Hogwarts."

"WHAT?! Listen to this." Rose jabbed her finger in her book violently. "'Pour all five potions into the brew at the same time.'" She slammed the volume shut. "How the bloody Hell am I supposed to do that?! The one book I find on wand making requires me to have five arms, apparently."

"You know you could just levitate them."

Rose smiled hollowly and shook her head. "Oh, Patricia. Beautiful, beautiful, naïve Patricia. Your suggestions are too much sometimes. You see, according to this, I can't use any form of charms while I'm making this. This would be a dream come true for I, terrible charmer that I am, except this book is telling me to bend over backwards and lick to my bellybutton as if it's telling me to make a sandwich."

"I could help."

Rose groaned. "Only I can do it. Have you ever seen a wand assembly line or a wand factory before? No? Because, interestingly enough, neither one exists. You need a single person to hand craft it or it throws off everything. Don't ask me why. Haven't gotten to the bit where they explain it, those mongrels." Rose opened the book and rested her head in the pages. "No wonder there are only a few wand makers," her muffled voice said. "This is costing serious time and money." She looked up. "Have you any idea how much Bladder Wrack Seaweed is on the open market? Just one unprocessed piece? Do you know how much a power crystal is? Do you know how many stores sell ceramic jars in the shape of the five most sacred letters from the Latin alphabet? I'll give you a hint. What's two minus two?"

"I still don't understand. You have the basic wand ingredients. Just send them to a wandmaker and they'll make it for you, including all the potions. It'll still be pricey, but surely cost less than what you'll be spending now."

"The point of this is to do it myself! Why does no one understand that?"

"But what if you spend all this time on a new wand and it's still not good enough."

Rose shrugged. "It can't be any worse than the wand I've got now."

"Agreed," Pat nodded. "Now." She stood up and twirled. "What do you think?"

"That depends," Rose told her, sweeping the girl over with her eyes. "Are you going for Father's Day brunch with your overly-chubby cousins?"

Pat frowned. "Ah…no."

"Are you attending the funeral for a golden retriever?

"I'm getting the feeling I should change."

"Those feelings," Rose sighed. "Always looking out for us, wouldn't you say?"

"I hate you."

"That's alright. I love me enough for the both of us."

Pat made her way to the bureau by the bed as Rose sang a horribly off-key version of "Cauldron of Love" in nothing but her knickers and a flowery blue bra. She slipped off her robes and scoured the drawers for something slightly more befitting. All of the clothes she liked, she'd grown out of. Patricia didn't see much harm in giving Heather a taste of her own medicine. She would've taken something of Rose's but the girl was lucky to be average height while Patricia was about as tall as each of her four brothers and sister. After searching for a bit, she came upon some clothes that were casual but not so universal in color. They felt a little less safe, but Rose whistled from across the room. "Patricia, you temptress!"

"I can pound you, you know," she told her. "Have you hospital wing for a week."

"Why not start with that line when you see Albus in the common room, eh?" Rose suggested. "It sounds so much better than 'hello.'"

"I'm leaving," she said, walking over strewn books and clothing to the door.

"And I'm procraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaastinating!" Rose sang, draping herself over a giant volume bound to be digging into her back.

Patricia shook her head, smiling as she shut the door behind her and made her way down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Albus sat cracking peanuts on the floor and tossing the shells into the fire. The rest of the room was empty, a rare jewel of a time when there was silence in the main room of the tower.

Patricia walked past him, towards the portrait hole and he whistled the same as Rose. "Oh, Patricia Cassiopeia McLaggen, did you get all dressed up just for me?"

"Dressed up?" she looked down at herself and smiled. "Stop trying to be flattering. I'm getting back at Heather for always taking my things. This dress and I are going for a night on the grounds."

"Can I come?"

"Girls night. No boys allowed."

"What do you do on those nights?"

"Oh, just what you'd expect. Worship the devil and play spin the bottle in our knickers."

She smiled as she walked through the portrait hole and pushed the painting shut behind her. She scurried down the passageways, letting her robes fly out behind her, until she reached the dungeons. She walked down the empty shadowed corridors, listening to the sound of her shoes echo against the stone floor. She rubbed her arms. It was cold down here. She didn't know how the Slytherins stood having their common room down here. Though she didn't know exactly where it was, this is where the Slytherins always came from in the morning and disappeared to in the afternoons. She didn't know these halls nearly as well as they did, but even they didn't venture too deep. Students had gotten lost wandering the place and stayed down there for days until some ghost found them and led them back the right way. They weren't so very expansive. It was more that the area was bewitched so prisoners couldn't escape and students occasionally were stuck in its trap.

Suddenly, she saw something. In the glow of her wand, a silhouette passed fluidly along the wall and disappeared from sight. "Hello?" she asked. She slowly stepped forward, afraid to see who it might be.

"Boo!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" she screamed, swiveling instantly and slashing her wand at the air behind her. A body hit the stone ground, laughing.

"Why are you being like that?" he asked, getting to his feet. "It's not like the Forbidden Forest. Nothing's down here but rats."

"Scorpius," she sighed, relieved. "I saw someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Someone. He freaked me out. He just walked past. Why do we have to meet down here anyway? Can't we just, I don't know, meet by the Whomping Willow or something?"

Scorpius looked her over. "Ever since you went into the Forest, you've been on your toes about everything."

"Well, shouldn't I be? With what's happened? I was the only one who saw those goblins and Leo was in the graveyard with them. There must be something going on."

"Whatever it was might be over now," Scorpius admitted.

"But what if you're right about Frieda and Leo?"

He shook his head, white-blonde hair shifting in the cold chamber. Patricia had noticed over time that he always had such a serious expression on his face. Even when he was smiling.

"I don't know," he said. "Now, I doubt it. When I mentioned Frieda and tried to provoke Leo, he didn't take the bait. He didn't defend her at all or get angry or even try to shift the topic away from her."

Patricia rolled her eyes. "Have you met Leo, Scorpius? I know you get angry at the drop of a hat, but Leo's not so easy to sway."

"But Leo's loyal. He's a Gryffindor. He still would have defended her. It barely even seems like they're even friends. We may have done more harm than good by making him interested in her."

"Leo doesn't get interested in girls. Albus told me himself. He thinks they're all worthless, boring, and stupid. He's a misogynist, perhaps not to the highest degree, but a misogynist nonetheless."

"You're wrong, Patricia."

"Fine, it's not much like I care what you think. I just want to stop jumping from body to body before we find the right one."

"It isn't your job in the first place. If you don't like it, get out."

"Please. You need me, Scorpius. Admit it. I can befriend any student here if I wanted to. Ever since You-Know-Who was defeated, the Slytherins are virtual outcasts in this school. Everyone knows you're always picking on Albus because you're jealous that he's so much more popular that you."

"I am not! I would never be jealous of that stupid twit! He's an idiot, always pranking and teasing people! You're only defending him because you fancy him."

"Albus is smart! I've seen it when he went into the Forbidden Forest with Rose and me! Albus is a hundred times smarter than you'd ever think!"

"So still not very bright, then. Honestly, Patricia, if he's really so magnificent, then why does he always run away black-and-blue from our fights?"

"That's not fair. You bring other Slytherins with you. And they only hang about you because you're a Malfoy and their parents are prejudiced. If you ever had a fair fight with Albus, you wouldn't stand a chance!"

"Care to test that?"

"Any time. Any place!"

"Fine, then. Tell Albus if he really thinks he's so great, he can pick both and I'll be ready for it."

I walk across the lush green grass on the cool November day. I love the feel of the tiny stalks of green brushing between my feet as the wind whips my hair and robes back. I smile, remembering the day I found this in the trash. It was ratty, but I patched it and cut out the holes, so now it hooks around my neck and wraps tight around my curves. I love it. I love my life, in fact. When I'm away from school, I live like a nomad, wandering in the forest and sleeping beneath the stars. When I was little, I once thought people were mad for writing books about walking through malaria and tiger-infested jungles to "find themselves." I'm not sure what that means. I know who I am. I just like it when I can breathe the fresh air and push my head against the bark of a tree and climb high in its branches.

It's dangerous, of course. Once I met a man who'd been bitten by a tick and turned shaky and yellow like bile. I had to run to a house and steal a wagon. Then I fit him inside, pulled him there, and left him on the doorstep. After a few hours of sitting in a cornfield, waiting, a white box on wheels, red lights flashing and making all sorts of noise, came and took him away. It could've been anyone, I don't know. The letters were backwards on the nose of the muggle contraption. Strange ways these muggles have. Course I'm one to talk, aren't I? My best friend is a brown, spotted owl who doesn't even belong to me.

Speak of the devil. Lovey soars so high overhead, she is but a silhouette, but I know it's her. I've seen her once before today. And I know what's in that letter she's carrying.

She swoops down and lands firmly on my outstretched arm. She's a powerful bird and doesn't realize, perhaps, how painful that is. My arm there, where she always lands, is thickening with fat, muscles, and lines of callouses. I bring her closer to me and slowly lower us down to the ground where she hops off and hoots. I love that sound. I reach down and take the letter from her. "Why did you send this?" I ask. "I don't understand. It doesn't make sense." She tilts her head and I know she ill understands me. This man. Its Leo's father, isn't it? Doesn't he, no, shouldn't he want to tell me everything he can? What's happening that he can't? We're safe at Hogwarts, aren't we?

My eyes flicker to Rose, kneeling in the green with her robes spread out around her in elegant ripples. Her hair is plaited, but still flies out of place in bold red curls. I notice a group of younger boys across the way are glancing at her and joking with one another. If a single one tries to go near her, James, Albus, and Hugo might jump from a nearby tree and tackle him, so they stay at a distance.

I walk towards her and sit beside her. "What are you reading about?" Of course, I know.

Rose screams which I am not expecting. "How—" She looks around her frantically. The boys' attentions are drawn. "How did you—ah…" She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Who are you?"

"Carina," I introduce. "Honeycomb. You're Rose Weasley, yes?"

"Ah…yes, that's me. Not to be rude, but what exactly do you want?"

I look to Lovey, perched on a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A white speck in a field of dark shrubs. "To turn into a bird and fly high above the world I know, past where the sun can control me." I smile at her. "But I assume you mean why I sat to talk to you." She gives me a look for a second that tells me exactly what kind of girl she is. She may keep away from boys and avidly study, but she's still just an average girl and I want as little to do with her as I can.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Carina," I say. "I'm Leo's friend."

She raises her eyebrows. "You're one of Leo's friends?"

"He tells me you're onto some big project."

Rose grits her teeth and shoves the book close to her chest. "Did he now?"

"And he said you needed Bladder Wrack Seaweed."

She knits her eyebrows. "How did he know that?"

I shrug. "I'd be lying if I said I knew what your project was, so I've no clue."

"But why would he mention seaweed anyway?"

"Ah, well, I was telling him about the bottom of the lake. I swim, you see."

Her eyes widen. "You swim the lake?! Do you have a death wish?! Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, those mermaids will rip apart anyone who goes in there!"

"And a rattlesnake also may bite me if I step in the desert. That hardly means it will happen. Wouldn't you say? So, I've a deal. Tell me about what you're making and I'll get some for you. It's expensive at the store and too far to swim to on the beach."

Rose stares at me incredulously for a moment, shaking her head. "No."

I raise my eyebrows in artificial surprise. "No? Oh, please. It isn't quite like this is anything catastrophic, though it may be in your world. You seem like one of those dramatic teenagers who always makes a giant deal out of everything. You're lucky I'm so curious. I'm saving you a lot of money on something that'll probably fail anyway. So tell me, what's so very secretive?"

"I—I WON'T TELL YOU A THING!"

She stuffed her book into her bag and began walking towards the school, infuriated.

"You'll never get it yourself, little princess!" I call back. "Only swimmers can stand that water. Don't bother getting your hair wet!"

She runs off, hair a swirling mess of flames fueled by the wind. Because how dare I try to force myself into knowing her secrets. How dare I be so manipulative.

Leo was sitting at the Ravenclaw table during lunch where he was talking with some of the Quidditch players about how Lysander was back in the hospital wing to remove a set of webbed feet Scorpius had "accidentally" given him in charms. Lorcan had been sitting gloomily further down, silent. At the time, Leo assumed it was because Zabini had come to sit with his girlfriend, Natasha Patil, and the two were clinging to each other and naming various classifications of fruit of which they each apparently resembled, but suddenly he got up and walked out of the Great Hall as quickly as he could. Leo thought he heard him take a heavy breath.

Nathan, the Ravenclaw keeper watched him leave and shook his head. "I'd be upset too," he muttered.

"Not because of Lysander?" Leo asked. "Man's in the hospital wing every week for one thing or another."

Nathan shook his head. He paused, looked both ways and leaned close, over the table, towards Leo. Leo returned the gesture, the two at the end of the table so none of the others were paying much mind. "You didn't hear it from me, but I hear Luna Scamander is dying."

Leo looked back at the doors Lorcan had just escaped through, remembering how seriously Lorcan took the teacup readings.

"How long has it been going on?" Leo asked.

"As far as I know, since May," Nathan whispered. "She was hit with a pretty intense blast from a creature she was taming, or trying to tame. Her memory started to go. By August, it was safe to say she really was insane. I saw it for myself, mate. My mother sent me over to his house to send back some plate she borrowed. I went inside and no one was there but Mrs. Scamander. She was rocking back and forth in a chair, scrawling some nonsense over parchment like it was a novel. She must've gone through a hundred sheets. All the while, she was babbling on like a lunatic. She's always been odd, but not like that, you know? That was scary. I left the plate on the table and got out of there as fast as I could. I've heard about spells like that. It's some next-level dark arts magic."

"Is she at St. Mungo's?"

"Yeah. Now she is. My mum just went to see her a few days ago and she told me she was in way worse shape. She can't do anything by herself. She can't remember anything. She's deteriorating."

"You can't be serious. It hasn't even been a year?"

"Yeah. Can't be easy on Lorcan. He practically worships his mother. They do everything together at home. And, you know, Lorcan's a sensitive guy. He can't take much more of this."

"They're not going to euthanize her, are they?"

Nathan shook his head. "She's too young for that. What I hear they might do is send her off for research."

"Research?"

"You know, she's young and sturdy. Mr. Scamander might let them have her to use as a guinea pig, to try spells and potions on. I would never release my mother so young for something like that. They've barely done any research in that field and it's always the first ones who turn out the worst. Even if they do succeed, can you imagine? She might wake up fully aware, but with her body smashed up from dark magic."

Leo looked at his plate. He wasn't full, but he certainly wasn't hungry. Not anymore.