Chapter Fourteen - Pomfrey's Present
Sukiya's 'ow' became a more emphatic 'oww!' and then a slightly hysterical 'ahh!' It was not something Gabrielle could ignore, even though George was in the middle of responding to her question about what to do with the second BADAR device. He had sent, "Place in a large cauldron of" so far. She had already turned her attention to Suki-chan's rapidly ballooning finger, but could guess that the contents of the cauldron would need to be bile from something. It was usually bile in Potions.
"It bit you?" asked Gabrielle. The beetles should have a way to record a message by themselves. A use for the legs, if there was a quill small enough.
"No… careful… stung…" Suki-chan slumped to the pillow.
The race to the infirmary was not done in a panic. Okay, Gabrielle admitted to herself, the first few moments had been, eh, chaotic. She had forgotten, obviously distracted by the unresponsive Sukiya, that Malachite did not know French. And, therefore, was not quite ready to catch Suki-chan when Gabrielle levered her friend over the small railing of the top bunk. That had worked out in the end, though, because Sukiya had only hit the ground hard enough to rouse her. She started wrapping her wrist tightly with a torn sleeve of her nightclothes. Before, eh, fainting again. The act did not make a lot of sense to Gabrielle since her friend had been bitten, that is, stung on the finger, but Gabrielle was too busy herself wrapping the dangerous metal beetle in her pillowcase to help with that. Madame Pomfrey would need the device to work out the proper antidote.
Mari, the Transfer Student League's Senior Advisor, happened to be in the common room. She responded to Gabrielle's very slightly shrill call for aid by finding the prefect for her year, and Saruchi, who ran off after hearing what happened. That struck Gabrielle has fairly odd, even for the former Ravenclaw. The prefect was a wizard of substantial, eh, heft named Chinsy. Probably, a second thought came unnecessarily, a nickname. He used his wand to levitate Sukiya, and led Gabrielle and about a dozen other Hufflepuffs of the newly organized B.E.A.R Club out. B.E.A.R stood for Badger Emergency and Rescue, a name that was really not up to Hufflepuff standards. Malachite came along too since her head was still bleeding. Saruchi caught up quickly, carrying a thick book from which she suggested dire diagnoses. At least until she stumbled on the stairs, which, eh, might have been Gabrielle's fault since she did not have her broom with her in the rush and so was on the stairs when they decided to move abruptly. This gave the Badger Emergency and Rescue Club both an emergency and people to rescue, even if it was mostly themselves. Gabrielle let the others go on ahead, resigning herself to taking the roundabout way to the infirmary, which meant using the small, spiral staircase hidden in the third alcove to go back down to the lower level. That was no problem since it was a 'down' staircase, and down was barely avoidable. Then it was along the north hallway, just past the cabinet with the words 'Redundant GIT' stenciled on it. This was where the flagstone floor gave way to rougher rock, and where there was another 'down' spiral staircase. This one, Gabrielle had discovered, had a lovely carved oak handrail that was also, importantly, wide. One could easily slide step up the rail.
v- v - v - v - v
By the time Gabrielle arrived at the infirmary in rather ignominious fashion, things appeared to be well in hand. Mount Mal had returned to the dorm already, along with many of the B.E.A.R Club. The last of them were being daubed with Bruise-Be-Gone by Saruchi, who was so serious and thorough in her efforts that one might believe she was healing a crup bite.
"Ah, Herr Korbel. How fortuitous," greeted Madame Pomfrey. "Would you mind lending your wand?"
Professor Korbel was the reason for Gabrielle's embarrassing arrival. She had met him halfway up the spiral staircase, as he was coming was coming down a staircase that Gabrielle had never seen anyone else use, or even know of, so that she thought it might be like the League room, faded from its former glory. That would explain the extravagant and very useful handrail. A second thought noted that if one was supposed to be patrolling for miscreants, then of course one would explore secret, hidden locations. She, however, was not a miscreant, and so quickly explained about the stairs and poisoned Sukiya. Professor Korbel was not at all perturbed by any of her story, causing Gabrielle to wonder if he had completely understood her. He 'helped' by hoisting her into the air with his wand, and she bobbed along ahead of him. His legs were longer, so this mode of travel was certainly faster, but would it have really mattered if he had lowered her before entering the infirmary?
"Ov course, Frau Pomfrey." Gabrielle dropped to the floor, but she had been expecting that. A warning would have just been polite.
"Eh, Madame Pomfrey, I have ze zing zat bit, eh, stung Sukiya." She raised the bundle she carried. The healer was too busy speaking with Korbel to take notice. Suki-chan's hand was now a fat purple flesh balloon on the end of her slim, wrapped wrist. It was awful to look at. And my fault, accused a second thought. Finding the hidden faux beetle was as clear a sign of danger as a rumbling cauldron.
Madame Pomfrey turned and reached for a large, brown glass jar. "Oh, Miss Delacour. I have Miss Lander seeing to the results of the stairs, and I do have an extra jar of the salve set aside just for you."
"Eh, I was, eh, not hurt on ze stairs," assured Gabrielle, ignoring the implication. She had fallen onto a B.E.A.R. "You see? Zis is what stung her."
Madame Pomfrey held the biggest leech Gabrielle had ever seen with a pair of pickle tongs. It looked to be the size of her forearm. "Mmm. Then you can get a sample for me."
"Eh, what?"
"Collect the poison or venom on one of the small glass dishes in the cabinet over there. If you are working with Professor Hagrid then I dare say you know how to handle dangerous creatures. Try not to break any of the dishes; the glass is rather special. Oh, and don't vanish any of them either."
Hagrid, thought Gabrielle, jams his fingers into the mouth of anything with fang enough to worry him to stop the creature from closing its jaws. Then he coos and strokes the beast as if it had decided to suckle his fingers voluntarily. His other method was to squash a flailing creature to the ground with a hand to 'calm' them. Then it was give up or lose consciousness. 'Aw, jes' look at tha'. He's havin' a bit of a kip now.'
Neither technique seemed appropriate here, and Gabrielle would never try them anyway. Professor Hagrid's fingers were half the size of her fist each, and she had learned the hard way about sticking a hand into anything that might snap shut. There was not a spell that was obvious to use either. At least, now that vanishing was up the Floo. This, logically, left logic as the solution. Gabrielle tried to think. Eh, logically. That was difficult because she was not far from where Suki-chan was being attended to, and what she could hear was not reassuring.
"There is something interfering with the antidotes?" asked Madame Pomfrey.
"Ja, but zat is not all. More poison is created," confirmed Professor Korbel, moving his wand back and forth over the inflated hand.
"Do you recognize the symbol on the wrapping?"
"Nein. No. However, it appears to be a simple vard."
"Tsk. I'll run out of Ministers at this rate," complained the medical witch.
What, wondered Gabrielle, did that mean? Pay attention, advised a second thought urgently. That was a crucial, and obvious, idea when unwrapping something that could both bite and sting. Gabrielle tumbled the vicious beetle out of her pillowcase and onto the floor. It lay inert, even once she had flipped it over onto its back in a risky maneuver. Suki-chan had been poking at the legs with her brush, recalled Gabrielle. The legs, therefore, must be hiding something. That made sense, since one was normally supposed to look at the wings. Gabrielle did not have the brush, nor, in the hurry - not panic, her wand. She looked around for a suitable replacement, and found one in Saruchi's large, heavy volume of the 'Royal Compendium of Potions, Preparations, and Elements Known to be Greatly Injurious to Wizards, Even Unto Death'. Gabrielle dropped the book on top of the upturned beetle's head and first set of legs, and then knelt on the book.
That got the four legs that were still exposed moving. Gabrielle could hear the muffled click of the mandibles too. She felt safe in assuming that the trapped device would now sting the first chance it had. What it would sting - that was the worry. Gabrielle wedged, very carefully wedged, the recommended shallow dish between the exposed sets of legs first - very important - before taking hold of one of the middle legs.
Gabrielle had barely pulled on the jointed appendage when there was a very loud snap. The glassware she held stable in her other hand jerked, then gave way. Oh mon Dieu, groaned Gabrielle to herself, there was only one thing that Madame Pomfrey had warned her of, and this was it. She pulled the pieces away. There were really only two fragments; the glass had split neatly across the face of the dish. And, eh, lots of very tiny chips from where the stinger had struck. Too many, frowned Gabrielle, for a Reparo to work, even if she suddenly did have her wand and enough time for several attempts.
On the other arm of the scale, the smaller of the two main fragments had a smear of an oily, yellow fluid on it. That small success should count for something. And, there were really only the two pieces, so one could argue that the dish was hardly broken at all. That was ignoring the chips of course, but if it was repaired and did not leak, then it would be a dish again.
Madame Pomfrey's expression did not agree, but the witch did not say anything about it. Gabrielle suspected that a bit of her accumulated pre-punishments had just been used up. Saruchi had quite a bit to say about the use of her book, though, especially when she found that the mandibles had nibbled a small tear in the cover. It was, Gabrielle felt, a completely unreasonable reaction considering how easily Saruchi fixed it since she did have her wand. Miss Ex-Ravenclaw stormed off to where Madame Pomfrey had taken the bit of dish with the poison and started paging through the now perfectly fine book.
Madame Pomfrey returned and placed the second beetle into a heavy bell jar, using the same tongs that she had just used to fix the last of the giant leeches to Suki-chan's hand. Gabrielle asked why they were called Ministers.
"Ah," began the medi-witch with a small cough. "Their official name is Corneliad Fudgeum, in, er, honor of a recent Minister of Magic."
"Ah," echoed Gabrielle. The name did sound familiar.
"I didn't name them," added Madame Pomfrey quickly. "They're a rather remarkable cross between the standard medicinal leech and a flobberworm. I get them from the Weasley twins, at cost, as a favor."
"Eh, zey are ze prank?" One of Fred's, no doubt.
"No, I shouldn't think so. No one yet has found them particularly amusing. Other than for the name. The twins come across things like the leeches fairly often. Not enough call for a spot on the shelves, but too useful to ignore."
There was a great commotion then, which drowned out Gabrielle's question about favors. Professor Korbel was arguing with a huge man that she recognized as Suki-chan's father. Since the Professor was speaking German and Monsieur Shimagina was probably using Japanese, it actually might not have been an argument at all. Except voices were raised and the two men were trying to occupy the same spot. Gabrielle called to Sukiya's father and waved, which apparently ended the animated… discussion.
Suki-chan's father wore traditional Japanese attire. At least Gabrielle assumed it was traditional; it was certainly foreign to her. He was wearing white, well, robes, supposed Gabrielle. The way they were cut made him look like an 'X'. A very large 'X' with a black hat. The hat was sort of pointed, like a real wizard's hat, but a bit too rounded to be truly pointed. In fact the hat, to Gabrielle's eyes, looked like a piece of stiff fabric curved over a box of the same color. And, Gabrielle could not help wondering at, he carried what looked like a… a mop.
When he spoke, no one replied to him, quite probably because no one had understood him. Gabrielle certainly had no idea what he had said either, but she thought it rude to completely ignore him. So she explained the circumstances. "Suki-chan was stung by ze faux beetle, on ze finger. You see? Zere is somezing, some magic, eh, stopping ze medicine."
"You understood him?" asked Madame Pomfrey. The extra BADAR device was now upside down in the bell jar, and still annoyed.
"Eh, no. But what else would he ask?" That was logic, a talent.
Herr Korbel tapped his wand on Sukiya's inflated appendage, "Sanghariea." The spell had an immediate effect, which was to reduce the swelling of the hand by half.
"Oh, is zat it? Is she healed?" asked Gabrielle. She wondered if the Professor had gotten the spell from the hospital in Paris. They could do amazing things there, with hands.
"Nein. Ze spell removes ze blood, reducing pressure on ze vard," replied Herr Korbel. "I vill research further now."
"Eh, will her hand be, eh, okay wizzout blood?"
"Ov course not."
"Eh, what?"
The elder Shimagina then spoke. Gabrielle could not tell if it was pronouncement, criticism, or question. Did he, wondered Gabrielle, not realize he was not speaking a shared language? That sometimes happened to her, if it was a crisis. Gabrielle watched as he lifted Suki-chan from the bed and arranged her on the floor. He stretched out her injured arm, and brought out a brush and shallow pan of ink. Madame Pomfrey hurried away with the bell jar, returning moments later to watch. Suki-chan's father began drawing squiggly lines on Suki-chan's hand, then more on the floor around her discolored hand. Gabrielle corrected herself - she did not want to sound like Ron - these were Japanese-style runes, probably, and a magic circle. To the drawn lines, he added some sticks with only two white tassels, like a worn down version of his, eh, mop. With only two, Gabrielle could see that the tassels were cut in a zigzag pattern. The sticks were stuck into the floor, which was itself really interesting because the floor was of stone, for hygiene. Gabrielle could not see how he was inserting the sticks, other than touching the stone tiles with two of his fingers.
Once four of the sticks were placed - at each of the cardinal directions? That was important to the Darkest Shadows, remembered Gabrielle. Once the sticks were placed, Sukiya's father spoke again and held a fifth stick out to Gabrielle. She took it warily, thinking that it might be better to be standing next to Madame Pomfrey, who looked to be taking notes.
The Japanese wizard then touched the circle, and it flashed. Sukiya whimpered. Then, he waved his mop first one way, then the other in a kind of dance. On the third repetition Gabrielle joined in, chanting along to, "Haratama! Kyotama!" It only occurred to her after she had begun that perhaps she should not have. She really hoped that her stick-waving was not going to ruin things. He did hand it to her though. How was she supposed to understand what he wanted?
The magic circle was definitely doing something. The tassels on the sticks stuck into the floor fluttered and streamed out as if a breeze was blowing out from the circle in all directions, though Gabrielle felt nothing. Wisps of a miasma, a nearly black purple in color, were rising from Suki-chan's poisoned hand, which now seemed pinned to the floor as her writhing motions did not affect it. Her father took no notice of either, so Gabrielle had to guess that it was all expected. She really hoped that this would not take long for Suki-chan's sake.
The miasma was weird, and it worried Gabrielle. Was this premonition? The rising filaments were not dissipating; they coalesced and hung like a length of thin, cheap parchment over the circle, even after Gabrielle tried to dispel the ethereal sheet by risking waving her stick through it. She wished that she had the mop, or at least a few more tassels. The dark surface rippled, and then seemed to form shapes. The appearance of the miasma reminded Gabrielle of the inky surface of a scrying bowl. She stared into the darkness in the air, even as second thoughts wondered if she was an idiot. All that Gabrielle, Mistress of the Mirk, could see, though, were a few things that looked a bit like runes she could recognize and more that she could not. The floating runes were arranged around an octagon, or at least something with many sides. The runes and shapes wobbled more and more, which would have bothered her if she had been able to discern some meaning. Was it an octagon? She -
Thwock-rustle. Gabrielle put her hand to head and looked around. There was no one behind her, and no one was holding a ladle. Suspiciously, the mop was making a very similar rustling sound as it was swished back and forth. Concentrating on the translucent film, Gabrielle had, eh, paused, only, in her chanting. She was certain there were other ways of overcoming a language barrier.
The purple-black effluence continued to wane. The shapes became difficult to make out, and then difficult to see at all. Shortly after they had faded, Suki-chan's father drew his sword and slashed at his daughter's wrist. The wrapping on that wrist fell away neatly, even before the screams from the onlookers at ended.
Madame Pomfrey was first to the blinking Sukiya with several potions. Gabrielle recognized the blood-replenisher at least. Saruchi was glued to Pomfrey's side. Gabrielle realized that she was still holding the stick, and turned to find a strange, huge man suddenly looming over her. She jumped back, held out the stick he had to be after, and smiled disarmingly. Hopefully, in an actual way. That was important, since he had yet to sheath the polished blade.
Suki-chan's father did finally put the sword away as he spoke to Gabrielle. She wondered if the ingrained politeness from Maman was somehow being misconstrued as the ability to understand all languages. She did think that she heard the Japanese for 'thank you', but that was about all she could catch. He sounded so much different from Suki-chan. At the end, he took the hand that held out the tasseled stick and pushed it back toward her, and bowed his head very slightly.
"Eh, eh… domo airy-got-toe, eh, go-see-my-sue?" tried Gabrielle. She was not certain that the father had even heard her, since he went to help Suki-chan back into her cot.
v - v - v - v - v
It was quite late by the time Gabrielle and Saruchi returned to the dorm, and even later after the numerous retellings of the events. Gabrielle, at least, had Care of Magical Creatures in the morning. Professor Hagrid's class was not one that required great effort or thinking, but it did need alertness to avoid harm. Hagrid like to have the creatures he lectured on there to demonstrate whatever made them "amazin'". Even caring for the piggymumps, an odd sort of amphibian, needed one's full attention lest they fire off their poison quills. Skipping breakfast to get some extra rest, Gabrielle decided, would help.
A plan that was thwarted by Malachite, who pulled Gabrielle bodily from the upper bunk and held her off the ground by her nightclothes. "Why didn't you go to tryouts?"
"Eh, what?" Gabrielle try to pull free.
"Why didn't you try out for beater?"
"Eh, what?" Gabrielle continued struggling.
"Quidditich!" snapped Mount Mal, giving Gabrielle a shake. "I'm askin' about quidditch!"
"Shut yer gob, or I'll…" muttered Cath from the top bunk. She had taken Sukiya's place.
"We caught that little Gryffindor spying. She said all she wanted to see was the Blond Bludger in action," continued Malachite. "She said you were also known as the Black Widow in France."
Gabrielle tried to wrench herself free again. It was a futile effort. "Is zere a reason zat you believe everyzing and anyzing zat a Gryffindor says?" asked Gabrielle. What time was it? The lights from the corridor were still dimmed, and they did not begin to brighten until after dawn.
"Well, they can't lie, right?"
Gabrielle did not have a reply for that. She had never heard such a thing; it was not in her volume of 'Hogwarts: A History'. She must have had a dubious look on her face, since Malachite then explained that they had thrown 'Mags' into the lake anyway so it was not as if she had gotten away with anything.
There might, thought Gabrielle, be a time when this all made sense, but that time, should it ever come, would be after breakfast. "I zink I will go back to bed now." Assuming Mal put her down.
"We still have the pitch for a bit. Come out an' knock a few around," suggested Mal hopefully. "And if it's about those people that got killed, don't worry. The school's bludgers aren't League kit."
"No one was killed! Zey were fine, eh, after... " Gabrielle's second thoughts finally brought a notable thing to her attention. That was easier now that she had given up on escape. Mal, Gabrielle now noticed, was wearing a quidditch jersey and the padding and guards of a beater. "You - you, eh, practice in ze dark?"
"Don't be daft. The pitch can be lit."
"Was it lit?"
"I mean, we're sure to get it next time. Look, it was the other Houses - they took all the good practice times."
"Can the two o' ye take it outside? Some o' us are trying to sleep."
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle did not 'knock a few around' in the cold gray dawn, but she did have to promise to attend a practice. Since the promise was made while she was held, legs dangling above the floor, she was not worried about keeping it. All she needed to do was to figure out a way to avoid someone who, eh... slept in her bed every fifth day. Hmm…
What Hogwarts needed, thought Gabrielle, was a touch of modernity. Just a small thing or two, not enough to lose the traditional, medieval atmosphere of the stately castle at all. Like, just off the top of her head, a small coffee bar with dark granite counters and comfortable chairs at small tables. With, of course, extra ventilation to preserve the, eh, atmosphere.
Gabrielle was thinking of coffee because she was still exhausted, and there was no way that she could stand enough tea to fix that. Her condition was, logically deduced, because of helping Suki-chan's father with the chanting and stick-waving. A second thought offered the opinion that she should know by now of the dangers of chanting foreign spells. None of her dorm mates were flagging as much, and that included Malachite who tried to tout the benefits of quidditch practice in the brisk morning air as a cure-all. Gabrielle ignored that piece of advice. She was not an apprentice anymore, so getting up before dawn was something lunatics and house-elves did.
An owl arrived for her, carrying a letter from Maman. It did not look like a Howler, Gabrielle was relieved to see, but it was awfully thin. Her mother's usual correspondence was full of advice and, eh, admonishments. Something so brief was likely to be bad news for someone. A second owl brought a thin, flat parcel wrapped in plain paper. Without even looking at the written address, Gabrielle could tell it was from George. Or, eh, Fred. The feathers on the owl's head turned from flame orange to spring green and back by turns. That was quite amazing, astounding even, given that magic did not work on owls. The flashy sight also made Gabrielle glad that she was no longer distributing contraband. How could one profess innocence if such an obvious bird was delivering?
From the handwriting on the address, the parcel was from George. Hopefully only George. Gabrielle would save it for later; it was clearly one of the twins' special boxes, and she was not going to be pulling out potentially incriminating items in front of everyone. Especially after the flamboyant owl. She set the letter from Maman on top of the parcel to conceal it a little. Gabrielle could not help wondering if the two were connected. There was nothing good to come of that, she thought, then wondered if the idea was a premonition.
Gabrielle stood to excuse herself, snatching up the last of her toast along with her post. Her breakfast was slathered in clotted cream, which as far as Gabrielle could tell was a sort of watery butter. On top of that was several spoons of a spicy blackberry jam - the spiciness came from the red bits that no could identify. The concoction was very tasty, and quite warming if one's humours were vulnerable to the cold. It did not, unfortunately, stick to the clotted cream very well. A blob of the purple jam detached from the slice of toasted bread and found a new home on her skirt.
Not that anyone noticed, or even could notice, a dark stain against the inky blackness of her clothing. There had been other owls of course, and many students received the Daily Potter, eh, Prophet. Something in the broadsheet was apparently amusing as laughter spread along the tables as pages turned. Probably, guessed Gabrielle, another letter from an insane subscriber touting the change in fortune for the Cannons as an allegory for the Rapture. Or, Harry was now the latest incarnation of the Dark Lord, draining the large crowds attending the matches of their pure magical essences, which was why they were having difficulty in rising to the occasion on the marital pitch. She was sure to hear about it if it was really good.
v - v - v- v- v
"Got a lil surprise fer ye, Gigi."
Professor Hagrid had no idea how those words, always said in a cheery tone of voice, could fill others with dread. The Northern Hodag pup was not something Gabrielle enjoyed caring for; it did not matter that its delivery had been tricky to arrange. An albino doxy is no more desirable than a regular doxy, which is to say not desirable at all. After all, there were no fewer than sixteen brands of doxycide available. The Purple Cap was just sad. Professor Hagrid claimed that it was a reformed Red Cap, choosing to color its cap with beetroot instead of human blood. Gabrielle knew it would throw stones if not watched with a wand out.
None of this was useful to be thinking of, Gabrielle knew, as she dangled from the beak of the hippogriff. They were currently flying over the Forbidden Forest. She wondered where the hippogriff, Professor Hagrid called him Witherwings, was taking her, and what would happen. Hopefully not to its nest for dinner. Witherwings was an odd name for the creature; both of his wings looked fine. Not that that was useful either.
Gabrielle gave the hippogriff a small smile and a cheerful wave, as if to say, "You're doing great, what fun." There was no point in struggling, since then she would either be dropped or snipped in two by the sharp beak. The large orange eye focused on her briefly, then rolled slightly before turning back to watch wherever the head it was attached was going.
It was the fault of Hazelwonder, a second-year from Hufflepuff and a member of the Pact of Albion Ancillary Wands study group, who was a complete prat. His bow to the hippogriff took the form of him dropping to his knees, raising his arms over his head, and then slapping them onto the ground along with his face, repeating, "Sim sala bim!" There was no way to rationalize his behavior save for insanity. Or, to find his partner in class, a Ravenclaw named, possibly, Utterback, complicit. Utterback, if that was the correct name - Gabrielle had not been trying to learn the names of the students in the class she had to help Professor Hagrid with anymore than the first-year Divination class - was laughing a bit too much in her opinion. That sort of made it Professor Hagrid's fault, since he did not restrict the pairs to their respective Houses. He was also aware that few students took his class beyond the minimum requirements; the hippogriff encounter was moved up to give them a preview of the 'fun'. It could, reminded a second thought, possibly be her fault almost entirely.
No, decided Gabrielle, she was supposed to help. Of course, being slightly less helpful than she had been would have still counted. As it was, she had jumped into the path of the lunging hippogriff, shouting, "Stop!" Or, it was possible, "Arrête!"
Witherwings had slid to a halt before her raised hands, which, upon reflection, was amazing since she had not been torn to pieces. The hippogriff certainly looked very shocked.
"I am sorry! But, eh… I, eh, I zhought zat diving at zem from ze air would be more, eh, impressive, yes?" Gabrielle then smiled hopefully. "Zat would look, eh, magnifique, very much so."
The hippogriff had cocked its head to the side, as if considering the suggestion. Professor Hagrid tried to herd the other students to his stone cottage, which was difficult because Fang was barking ferociously. Hazelwonder had hid behind her, which was quite a thing as he was bigger than her. Gabrielle, because Witherwings had appeared to be considering the proposal, added, "Also, if you use your, eh, call when you dive, zen I am certain zey will be petrified wizz fear."
Gabrielle could picture the sight in her mind, the enraged hippogriff shrieking as it tore through the sky with talons and beak ready to strike. It would have been an awesome spectacle, which is why she had not reacted in time when Witherwings' beak closed on her.
Ah, thought Gabrielle as Witherwings banked, he is heading back toward the castle. The lake was beneath them; Gabrielle could see large, dark shapes of creatures moving below the water. It was not the giant squid - what had the Professor managed to find? And, most importantly, would she have to help care for it?
The two were starting to descend now. Gabrielle could feel it and the surface of the water was closer. The sensation of speed was greater, this close to the surface. It would have been quite cool, if she were not just dangling. It seemed clear that they would end up back near Hagrid's cottage, where Witherwings would likely strut about with her in his beak to show that the others were all lucky he was so tolerant. Except that, when they were higher, Gabrielle could see that the second-years had escaped. Or were hiding, assuming they believed Professor Hagrid's assurances about Fang's harmlessness. Well, thought Gabrielle, this was not - pomf!
Witherwings banked sharply into an abrupt turn, then used his powerful wings to fight for altitude. He just skimmed the waters of the lake, sending up a spray of water. Gabrielle could see all of this because she had not made the turn with the hippogriff. The beast had either let go of her or had held her too loosely. Which had been a good thing, reminded a second thought, up until just then.
Gabrielle had a moment to consider her landing. It had looked like it would be a face-first entry at first, but, of all things, the ridiculous hat had reappeared. The drag from the umbrella-like brim had turned her around. She had not been very high up when she was dropped, so that was good. Witherwings had been flying rather quickly, though, which was not good. She was pretty sure she was still going to land in the lake, which was better than the rocky shore. But, it was October, and, properly autumn or not, the water was sure to be -
The water was cold, and not nearly as soft as Gabrielle had expected. She was very glad for the feet-first impact; she would not say so, though, because she did not want to encourage the hat. When she stopped tumbling, she sank and the hat abandoned her with a pop. The water was very cold, she thought, and it soaked through her clothes in an instant. If she did not get to shore quickly, she was certain she would sink beneath the waves and be lost. Perhaps not waves, exactly - it was a lake - but there at least big ripples coming toward her.
Coming toward? Gabrielle stopped pondering her own mortal peril to find that there was someone else in the lake too, flailing and thrashing the water like mad. Whoever it was was at least closer to the bank than she was, so Gabrielle began slowly wading through the frigid, neck-high water to them.
That turned out to be a mistake, since the flailer, who had not made any progress at all in any direction, saw Gabrielle. And, started calling to her. Worse, Gabrielle recognized the student as the insane first-year but now could not just ignore her and turn away. Yes, you can, encouraged a second thought.
"W-w-what are y-y-you d-d-doing?" asked Gabrielle, shivering. Could one freeze to death without there actually being ice about? There was something… hydrothermia? She needed to keep moving.
"Swimming!" gasped the first-year, her face barely free of the surface.
"N-n-no, zat is n-n-not swim-m-ming." Gabrielle was certain swimming involved more overall motion relative to the scenery. She was also certain that she had gotten too close. The desperate first-year lunged and grabbed onto the hood of Gabrielle's Cloak of Darkness, which G= wore for extra warmth.
"You saved me!" cried Gabrielle's new burden as she wrapped her arms around Gabrielle's neck and legs around Gabrielle's waist.
"N-no… grg," choked Gabrielle. She fought to loosen the arm across her throat. "J-just stan-n-nd up!"
"I'll drown!"
Gabrielle ignored that and began plodding to the rocks near the shore, carrying the deadweight of the Gryffindor. Not because she wanted to help, but because she was losing feeling in her limbs. Gabrielle knew the girl was at least as tall as she was because, well, everyone was. The going became more difficult once the girl's weight was not being carried by the water, which should have made it very obvious that it was perfectly safe to help walk out. It was only once the first-year could step onto a dry rock that Gabrielle was released.
Partially frozen to the humours, the skin on her hands bluish, and dripping wet, Gabrielle decided that she did not care about additional detentions, Howlers, or even being expelled. She fumbled for her wand and with numb fingers cast, "M-m-maximus Flagrate!"
A huge ball of nicely hot flames hung in the air. And, over the water, which was at least a mitigating circumstance. The warmth was glorious. If she could, Gabrielle would step into them. Wearing flames like a cloak, thought Gabrielle, would be a really cool - ha - spell. She could not imagine trying to practice such magic without a tub of the orange burn paste to jump into in case things got out of hand, though.
"That's brill! You're amazing Miss Delacour!" gushed the first-year, moving to sit near. "You're a much better swimmer than me."
"I was walking, not swimming. You, eh, were not swimming eizzer, I zink. You have to be moving in ze water for swimming, I am certain," argued Gabrielle.
"Oh. Well… will you teach me then? I can practice a lot!"
"Is zat why you were in ze lake?" asked Gabrielle. She turned to the side to dry more of herself while still keeping an eye on the flames.
"No. The older girls threw me in again."
"Eh, what? Why?" asked Gabrielle. It occurred to her that 'again' meant that the girl had survived previous attempts, and so Gabrielle could have, should have, left her to the 'swimming'. "Have you told ze prefect?"
"The prefect helped! It was just a -little- prank this time."
Gabrielle turned to roast the other side, and faced the too-close first-year. Pranks, the advanced dungbombs, the girl in George's shop listening to Fred's exaggerations, the lake - it all came together. "You are ze one zey call Mags, yes?"
v - v- v - v - v
Gabrielle returned to the castle with the first-year, Magdeline Berrycloth - she had asked - in tow. That was because Gabrielle had been the first to climb to higher ground, and had offered her hand in aid. A hand that was yet to be released. Gabrielle did not know what was going on in the Gryffindor's head, but the things she could imagine mostly seemed like trouble. Gabrielle decided that, while Miss Berrycloth could be Mags, she would remain Miss Delacour.
They parted, with some determined pulling, once inside the main doors. Gabrielle wanted to visit Suki-chan in the infirmary, which was 'up', and so needed to go back to Professor Hagrid's cottage as her handbag, and therefore broom, was there. Mags was disappointed, but quickly cheered when Gabrielle agreed with the sentiment of "I'll see you later?" Tomorrow was the Divination class detention with the first-years.
A second thought wondered if she should have been a little more specific, but it was not something Gabrielle could think about at the moment. The hippogriff was back at Hagrid's house, standing by the door and turning his head from side to side. It looked to Gabrielle that the creature was trying to figure out how to get inside, which probably meant there were students within. She started to sing the Hufflepuff quidditch team fight song, which was less about fighting than a determined expression that the rules be followed and everyone try their best. It was best, after all, not to surprise a hippogriff. Gabrielle had gotten past her previous experience - she no longer feared being fed by one.
Witherwings turned at her voice and bounded over to her. Bowing was not needed every time one met a hippogriff, just the first time of the day or not even that if one was familiar to the creature. So, Gabrielle did not bow but instead put her hands on her hips and tried to look stern. But not angry or aggressive or any thing else that might get her mauled. Witherwings stopped short of her and stretched out his neck. Gabrielle waited several moments before stroking his feathers. This was his apology. Hippogriffs are terribly prideful creatures, and they admit to regret by waiting patiently for one to do what they wanted. A serious but unintended injury caused by a hippogriff might get a witch half a minute of patience.
"It, eh, is no use, you know zis. Zey will not come out, and zere is not enough room, eh, inside for your wings," explained Gabrielle. She had been intending to point out that her idea had been better and that he had wasted his efforts dropping her into the lake, but that sounded a lot like criticism for something he had probably realized on his own. "Also, you saw zat he tried to, eh, hide behind me, yes? I do not zink he could be more scared."
Gabrielle did not really believe that, unless 'without bleeding' was meant, but it might make Witherwings happy enough that he would leave. She continued to pat his neck. While she waited for him to be satisfied by the attention, Gabrielle had an idea. "Oh," she started, trying to sound like she had thought of something fun. "Ze back door is never locked. We can get in zat way. Zen you will be able to look inside."
Witherwings straightened up, which probably meant that he liked the idea. Gabrielle followed the creature around to the rear of the stone cottage. If Professor Hagrid and whoever else was inside had been watching, then hopefully they would know to slip away.
The back entrance was open, of course. It did not even have a latch, Gabrielle knew, just some sort of mechanical thing with rope to pull it closed. The door opened inward to make it difficult for, eh, things inside to get out. This was Professor Hagrid's workroom, though, so it was empty at the moment except for several cages with dozing... experiments and a large stone-topped table. Gabrielle moved past the hippogriff to get inside, then said, "Oh, eh, zut."
The feigned surprise was a ruse. Gabrielle had been in the workroom many times. Professor Hagrid had a lot of ideas for cross-breeds, but, in Gabrielle's opinion, did not take into account size and, eh, fit. Sometimes her role was to try and find music that would promote the romantic atmosphere; sometimes it was to wash away the results of a poor match while he buried the rest. The workroom itself was as long as the cottage, but not nearly so wide. Witherwings would not get in this way. Gabrielle pretended to try and shift the massive table, l'arène de l'amour. All she needed was to keep the hippogriff distracted long enough for any second-years to flee. Then, she could leave by the door connecting to the main part of the cottage. Gabrielle grunted and groaned as if struggling mightily. A second thought wondered if it was too much.
The face of a bird is not easy to read. The range of expressions that a beak can make is very limited. Thus there was no indication as to why Witherwings pushed through the tight opening of the door, except perhaps that he thought he would be able to help Gabrielle with the table. The hippogriff was able to flip the table into the air some, using his beak and strong neck, but it only crashed back down very nearly where it had been. The way was still blocked, Witherwings' eyes showed that he now realized that he was stuck, and a leg of the heavy table rested squarely upon Gabrielle's right foot.