Chapter Twenty-One - Am I?
Gabrielle was summoned to Professor Trelawney's office just after Potions. That was fortuitous. Her newly active role during the practical was, eh, not... Well, those were not the whole of the marks anyway. Kath, no, the other one, would just need to give her some time to catch up.
On the other side of the galleon though, Professor Trelawney might feel that her efforts were lacking as well. Gabrielle was running out of things to do during the first-year divination class, since the dear Professor hardly even mentioned it before leaving, and so had spent the last getting the recalcitrant windows to open. The first-years did not know much in the way of spells, but there were a lot of them. The tea, mostly used for the dregs it left behind, proved very useful for loosening and cleaning, which left quite a mess itself. That was easily taken care of with a vanishing spell, and the odd pillow or two would hardly be missed, though Gabrielle doubted that the curtains, eh, lack of curtains, would go so unnoticed. Even if it did clear one's sensory humours, the activity had patently little to do with divination.
Gabrielle knocked loudly on the door to Trelawney's office. Not because she was angry or annoyed but because there was a better than even chance that the Professor would be asleep. Or, Gabrielle admitted, sleeping it off. Indeed, there was a sudden skittering, the sort of sound that can happen if one startled while napping at a cluttered desk.
"Just, just a moment," came Trelawney's desperate voice through the door. Gabrielle imagined her frantically scooping up fallen assignments and untangling mystic bangles and amulets from her hair.
"You may enter," trilled Trelawney, having sorted herself. Gabrielle rolled her eyes and stepped through the door.
''Ah, it's you," said Trelawney. "Please, sit."
Gabrielle's first thought was that a seer should not act surprised by any arrival. That was not a good look. Especially if one requested the presence of that arrival in the first place. The desk, Gabrielle noted, was indeed cluttered. She shifted two thick astrology books from the spindly wooden chair and sat. In silence, in case Trelawney had not found out about having the first-years do some cleaning. No need to make excuses yet.
''Would you like some tea?" asked Trelawney. Gabrielle shook her head. "No? Well, do you mind if I..."
Gabrielle shook her head again because the Professor probably could use a bit. Gabrielle decided that she was not in trouble. Trelawney was usually very upfront with her complaints. That was, in a way, more worrisome. Should she just ask what the Professor wanted? It was obviously going to be more work, and, honestly, the current detentions were hardly that.
Gabrielle's continued silence was unnerving Trelawney though. The spoon rattled the cup more and more until Gabrielle could not bear it any longer. "Eh, are you all right?"
"Oh Merlin, no, child. I can scarce close my eyes and not see woe, terrible woe. I haven't slept for days, weeks!" claimed Trelawney. Gabrielle was unable to hide her scepticism, and had not been trying too hard - 'child'. "I mean, properly sleep, unburdened by these terrible -"
"Woes?" asked Gabrielle.
Trelawney frowned at that, and pushed her spectacles back into place. "I need you to deal with the third-year class too, starting next week.''
"Eh, what? I am -in- ze zhird-year class."
"Oh, er, are you?"
"Yes, very much so." Height did not equate to age. "You are still having ze visions?"
"Yes. There seems to be a Grand Dismal Disjunction of the cosmic resonances, to which I am particularly attuned, and the etheric -"
"Have you told ze Headmistress of zese visions?" interrupted Gabrielle.
"Heavens, no. I have no idea what they mean. Beyond woe.''
"Eh, yes, you mentioned zat. But I, eh, zink she would like to know of zem," advised Gabrielle. Hopefully the extra work would be forgotten! Though if she were able to give herself marks...
"Unfortunately, I cannot yet be certain that these glimpses through the veil of destiny are truly, er, true."
"I zink zey are. Zere was somezing about a goblin, no? Zere is -"
"And there was a fire, wasn't there?" added Trelawney, quite, in Gabrielle's opinion, unnecessarily.
"Eh, no. I do not zink zat, eh, counts. Also, I have apologized already."
"What of the knights, and the shattered coffin?"
"Eh, zis coffin, it is new?"
"Oh no, it looked quite old. Made of white marble, quite thick really. More of a sarcophagus, I suppose, like the ones for the kings of -"
"Eh, I meant is it a new vision? I do not zink you said zat before."
"Didn't I? I can't be sure myself. The harmonies of the cosmos are in chaos, and the resonances are like an angry sea. I am swept, swept -"
"Do you want me to tell ze Headmistress?"
"You do realize that it is extremely rude to interrupt a person when they are speaking? Particularly a more senior member of the staff?"
"I am sorry," said Gabrielle without much conviction. Without interruption, Trelawney could go on about various cosmic nonesuch forever. It did not make a lot of sense to Gabrielle, since the Professor's glimpses into the Hidden Realm came while she was 'resting' and not while looking at the stars.
"Do, please, remember that. Unfortunately, I feel it is too late to reveal these visions to the Headmistress. I would look like I was predicting things that have already happened," sighed Trelawney. She frowned again and looked away. "I believe she has doubts about my qualifications."
Gabrielle took the opportunity to roll her eyes again. It was not just the Headmistress. "Eh, Madam Sombrevoir said zat if you have ze Gift, zen you must use it. If you have a vision or premonition, you must tell her at once. If you do not have one, zen say nozzing." Do not make ridiculous excuses, Gabrielle thought, but did not say as much.
"But what to say about the meanings?''
"Eh, is zat not ze Seer's Curse? Zat prophecies and predictions are only clear after everyzing?" Not that that was a problem for Gabrielle; she could only See the Past. Mainly.
"I can not imagine Minerva being satisfied with that excuse," complained Trelawney.
"Well, if you tell her zese things first, zen you can do ze interpretation after. You could study ze symbols and, eh, portents until zey come to pass, even."
Gabrielle thought she was helping, but now the Professor looked like she was about to cry. This was becoming too awkward, so Gabrielle stood. "I will tell ze Headmistress of zese visions. I am, eh, certain she will be interested."
"If you feel that they are that important, I suppose you must," sniffled Trelawney. "Er, just one thing before you go.'' The drape of her shawl made her outstretched arm look like a dingy wing as she gestured toward the messy pile of parchment. Gabrielle sat back down, annoyed. Of course the missing curtains had been discovered before the house-elves could replace them.
v - v - v - v - v
Professor Trelawney's office and the Divination classroom were both in the same tower, which was a problem because towers went up quite a ways compared with other castle bits. Without her broom, it entailed a tedious traversal of the castle for Gabrielle to to return to the Hufflepuff dorm, since she needed to find cooperative stairs. Or, at least, those that were not actively hostile. The meandering route gave Gabrielle a lot of time to think.
Professor Trelawney was very concerned that the Headmistress would demand some sort of interpretation, so, while Gabrielle sorted essays based on the density of ink on the page, the Professor searched the shelves for meanings. Gabrielle found herself quite disappointed with the implied criteria for marks. Trelawney was just as likely to examine a trinket or bauble as she was to examine a book. Gabrielle wondered if those were her 'special rocks'.
Menacing knights were not a very common theme in mystic visions, and the colored glass beads, lavastone, and peculiar dried fungus were no help there. Gabrielle already knew what the goblin was about, and there had been no fire yet. No significant fire, that is. And Trelawney's uncertain glimpse into the Hidden Realm did not actually show that she would be the culprit anyway. The coffin was, of course, a symbol for death. Except it was broken, which made its meaning less clear.
Less clear to Professor Trelawney, that is. Gabrielle was fairly certain that it was a reference to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was an exercise in logic. The coffin was a symbol of death, so a broken one surely meant not-death. Harry Potter had said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could not die yet. "Not die" was practically "not-death". A second thought pointed out that ghosts, vampires, and zombies were also possible, but Trelawney's two prophecies had both been related to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So that made it conclusive. You-Know-Who would come to Hogwarts wearing charmed armor to set the school on fire. Why the goblin, looking for the already returned, and innocently obtained, inkpot was included was the only remaining mystery. Perhaps, considered Gabrielle, the armor was made out of Gringotts inkpots. Or, eh, perhaps not.
The route back to the Hufflepuff dorm began with a shuffle down the railing of a spiral staircase that was seldom used. One would think that such an overlooked part of the castle would want to be helpful, but even the handrail had become narrower over time. That only gained one floor. Next came an entire lap of the castle, as the next staircase only went up if one approached from the right direction. Gabrielle needed to go back up because there was an odd little room off to the left, just at the top of those stairs, but only if one had just climbed the stairs. It was all so needlessly complicated. Gabrielle supposed that castles could become bored too. The room, or perhaps it was only a closet - dried bat wings hung from the ceiling - had two doors. One door opened to the Divination tower, but the other door opened to the Ravenclaw tower. The stairs near the Ravenclaw dorms were much more passive. At most only a well-timed jump was needed. The worst of the route was the higher probability of meeting the Head Craig.
Her map, that is, George's map - oh mon Dieu - Gabrielle realized that she could think of it as 'our' map - provided more hidden possibilities as well as more advanced warning than Pepi-Z. That was needed because even though her owl, Lieutenant Mimsey, looking very pleased with himself, had returned late the following day after being sent out that night, the Head Boy's doppelganger was still at Hogwarts. As far as Gabrielle could discern, the Lieutenant was very confident that he had made the delivery properly. So why was it that the real Head Boy had not been returned?
At the moment, Saruchi had the map. Again. She, thought Gabrielle, had better not be thinking 'our' map. Thus, Gabrielle had to use her old route because she did not know which of the lily pads to press on the painting that was across from the tapestry of a fanciful three-headed dragon chasing a witch. The order changed every so often, which the map somehow knew. Getting it wrong meant three jets of flame trying to burn the unknowing. The witch was stitched with a rainbow coming from her wand, and it was not at all clear what effect such would have on any dragon. It was not a particularly good tapestry, but then all it was needed for was to cover the wall or the opening to a simple chute, depending on lily pads. The chute ended in a closet on the third floor, and had been quite filthy at first. Gabrielle's best and possibly the world's longest vanishing spell had taken care of it.
When Pepi-Z began tugging at his tether, Gabrielle expected to confront the false Head Boy. Well, not confront exactly. More like avoid. She quickly glanced behind her; if he was far enough away she would just run. It was not the Head Boy, nor his usurper, though.
"Well now, if it isn't the Black Cheddar."
"Eh, what?" The speaker was a witch with long, straight brown hair and a long straight nose, which was the regular color. She was, Gabrielle thought with an internal sigh, taller. Gabrielle had never seen the witch before. She was from Ravenclaw and held a bunch of toads like a bouquet in one hand, and her wand in the other. "What does zat mean?"
"It's a pun, or a play on words. Generally recognized as the highest form of humor," explained the witch.
"You are, eh, certain about zat?"
"Yes. Cheddar - cheater. I am calling you a cheater and, and, uh, cheese."
Gabrielle eyed the Ravenclaw, wondering if she was supposed to know this witch. She certainly knew the toads. The crumpled Poisseux was right there in the middle of the three Sisters. "Zat… does not make any sense."
"Black Cheetah was another one, but it was a little too on the nose,'' explained the witch. "And I, uh, meant to say cheesy before."
"Oh," said Gabrielle. "Well, eh, zank you for all your hard work." She wondered why the girl had the toads. They were her pets, although she supposed that the Sisters were really more Poisseux's pets than hers. Gabrielle was not much worried for them. They could take care of themselves, and Poisseux had survived being crushed twice. That is, sort of survived. She half-turned to go.
"Everyone knows you cheated!"
Poisseux, a second thought remembered, only survived the disaster at Eyelops because of the spellotape body the house-elves had made for him. A wand might come in handy, hinted a third thought, having finally noticed the one pointed at her.
Gabrielle took out her wand somewhat absently, since she was mostly trying to fathom what this Ravenclaw… Ah. "I did not cheat, and I have already apologized to, eh, zem."
"I'm not afraid of you," declared the witch, who was pointedly staring at the pale stick in Gabrielle's hand.
The house-elves, continued the second thought, came from Hogwarts. She was at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts house-elves could undo the damage that the rat-wizard had done. "Eh, okay, good. Zen I am not afraid of you eizzer," said Gabrielle. "Eh, zose are my toads."
"Ah ha!" crowed the girl. "That is the proof right there!"
"Eh, what? Does zat mean zere was no proof before?" asked Gabrielle.
"Shut up. You sent these to spy on our quidditch strategy. We caught these in the prefect's bath."
"Ze Ravenclaw quidditch team practices in ze prefect's bazz?" asked Gabrielle seriously. Was that a possibility? That would be a much warmer 'training construct' than the pre-dawn pitch, should she ever be dragged to another practice.
"Don't be stupid. The captains meet there with Craig Torrae, who is both Ravenclaw and Head Boy, and also a genius at strategies. You stole our plays."
"Eh, Hufflepuff lost by more zan two hundred points. You should know zis."
"You tried to kill Chubiskey."
"Eh, no. Ze bludgers sometimes do zat. I zink he will be fine."
"The dimple on his chin is gone!"
"Eh, what?"
"The cute little dimple on his chin," repeated the witch. "I, uh, really liked that."
"Zere was zis healer zat would use a mallet to, eh, fix zings like zat. Madame Pomfrey has such a mallet," suggested Gabrielle helpfully.
"Wouldn't some sort of a spell be more useful?''
"Did zey somehow take notes?" asked Gabrielle.
"What? Who?"
"Ze toads. How would zey give Hufflepuff ze secret plays?"
"Oh. Er, they say that you can talk to animals."
"Anyone can talk -to- an animal. Zat does not mean zey talk back," explained Gabrielle. Talking to was not the same as talking with. Who were 'they'?
"They, they could act out the formations," proposed the Ravenclaw. She pointed at Poisseux. "That could be the quaffle."
"Eh, can I have my toads now?" asked Gabrielle. "To, eh, punish zem." Oh, the Sisters did not like that idea. Such beadiness to the eyes.
"I don't think so," said the witch with a shake of her head. Now she pointed her wand, which was also very long, at the Sisters. "I think I'll be holding on to these for a bit, just to -"
"Accio Poisseux!" shouted Gabrielle. She had the wand ready for some reason. The spell needed an emphatic gesture, and Gabrielle's sudden jump halved the distance to the Ravenclaw in a moment. The witch shrieked and stumbled back, falling and dropping her amphibian hostages. The crushed, spellotape body of Poisseux rolled, rather unimpressively, to Gabrielle. The Sisters must have been clinging to their beloved leader, decided Gabrielle. That was surely why he did not soar to her. She bent and scooped up Poisseux. His retinue would follow by their own accord - the Sisters always did.
Gabrielle straightened and turned to go, ignoring the protests of the fallen girl who was now dealing with some retribution of the amphibian sort. That is, slow, relentless, and mostly just annoying. One of the Sisters, the one missing a toe, had a grip on the witch's long hair.
Except now the False Craig was blocking the way. Not, a second thought noted, quite blocking, more like he was in a position that he could. The other way down the hall, past the struggling witch, led to busier corridors, which were likely to the full of Ravenclaws who might also call her cheese.
"What are you doing now?" asked the pretend Head Boy. His tone made it seem like Gabrielle was an endless source of trouble.
"Stop biting my wand!"
"Nozzing! I, eh, was going to ze Headmistress's office." That was among the things Gabrielle was going to do, eventually, so it was not a lie.
"Ow, ow, ow - Merlin!"
"Did you Confund her?"
"Eh, what? No! I, eh, zink she was always like zat," replied Gabrielle. "She zought I was a cheese."
"Fionnula, just stand up," advised the doppelganger with a shake of his head. He waved his wand and the Sisters stopped moving. They did not let go of whatever they had latched onto, though. Gabrielle took a couple of furtive steps to bring her even with the imposter. Now she could run if, for some reason, he suddenly dropped his wand and it rolled away. "Cheese?"
"Oui. You should take her to Madame Pomfrey, I zink."
"Cheddar," said Fionnula, still untangling the toad in her hair.
The False Craig barked a laugh. "Cheddar, cheater. That's brilliant."
Gabrielle wondered if her Maman, who preferred dry humor over funny humor, would also be amused. "I did not cheat. What is it zat Ravenclaws zink bludgers do?"
"People heard you command the bludgers using a secret, eldritch tongue," accused the witch.
"Zere is nozzing wrong wizz my tongue!"
"Tongue as in language," clarified the Wrong Craig, in what Gabrielle considered to be a patronizing tone.
"You mean, eh, French?" She tried for the same tone.
"Can you have her call off these toads? I just know this one is scratching my wand. My mum will have a fit."
"These are -your- toads?" asked Not-the-Head-Boy. Now he sounded annoyed.
"Eh, yes. Eh, once removed, zhough. Zat is, zey are my toad's toads."
"Yeah? Why are they always getting into my things?"
"Perhaps zey know your secret too," blurted Gabrielle. Oh mon Dieu, flailed a second thought, what have you, eh, we, zat is, what have I done? He had not dropped his wand and it had not rolled away. This was a serious blunder. "I have already, eh, returned what you are looking for. Also, it was not my fault. You should know zis." An excellent save, like that Ravenclaw keeper, Spinner or something, applauded a third thought.
"What I am looking for..? Oh, right, I see. Hufflepuff," dismissed the usurper. He raised his wand.
"Protego!" shouted Gabrielle. It involved a lot of arm flailing, but it was one of her best spells that did not involve fire or cleaning.
The Sisters fell to the ground limply, and the ersatz Head Boy looked at Gabrielle as if she were an overlooked spot of cauldron crud. She colored, which made the humiliation worse.
There did not seem to be a dignified way to escape this situation, so Gabrielle muttered, "Eh, I will take ze toads and go." She wished she could leave them as this was mostly the Sisters' fault, but collecting them gave her an excuse to leave. Gabrielle could only hope that Krang would not reveal himself by hexing her in front of a witness.
v - v - v - v - v
"Tha's a girl. Easy now," growled Professor Hagrid. It was probably meant to be a purr, but, well, it was not.
Gabrielle looked at the ewe, its head completely engulfed by the Professor's 'comforting' hand, and pitied the terrified creature. The ewe was the bizarrely successful culmination of a breeding experiment, meaning that it had become pregnant and not died. Yet, which was a distressing second thought. Hagrid cared deeply and tried his best, but... It would never have occurred to Gabrielle to try and breed a fire crab with a sheep, and she would never have imagined the ewe being, eh, receptive to the tortoise-like fire crab. There was probably some regret there, she thought. Professor Hagrid's goal was to extend the fire crab's native range by adding a coat of wool, so they could survive a northern climate.
The ewe, about to give birth to - well, that was one of the problems. Would it be leathery eggs similar to a reptile's? Or a live birth? Would it be a lamb with a shell, or a fire crab without one? Not knowing made it difficult to judge the ewe's bleat of distress. At least, that is, for Gabrielle.
"I think th' young'un is tangled," diagnosed Professor Hagrid. There was some distress to his voice now, "Er, ye wouldn't mind reachin' up inside and seein' to things?"
"Eh, what?"
"Ye've small hands, an' all."
"Eh, what?!" Gabrielle did mind. Quite a lot, actually. She was usually the one doing the comforting. The ewe bleated in a way that made it obvious that the birth was not going well. "Is zere not a spell?"
"No," said Hagrid firmly. "Not at a birth. Ne'er a birth."
"Eh, I, eh, would not know what to do."
"Jes' feel around fer a ropey sorta thing, and move it out o' the way."
"What, eh, what, what if somezing goes wrong?"
"Well, lass, then she'll jes' end up where she's headed fer now."
Gabrielle looked at the suffering ewe. This was completely not her fault, so there was no reason to feel guilty, even if she had played that recording of Chiko Hige that Suki-chan had loaned her. The recording was on a scroll made from very thin strips of bamboo with rosewood rods on both ends. It played when touched by a jade key, winding from one rod to the other. The scroll also played as it rewound. The reversed song was actually more popular, according to Suki-chan. Gabrielle had thought that the Japanese crossover star might appeal to both participants in the Arena of Love, as one was magical and the other was not.
Arguing with herself that her small, very small, contribution did not matter meant there was doubt about whether it did, and so, there was doubt about being guilt-free. Gabrielle was feeling very conflicted by the dilemma, which showed itself by the lurching, half stumble she took to get to the rear of the ewe - only two-thirds of her wanted to move.
"Use a bit o' the lanolin in tha' bowl on yer hand and arm," advised Hagrid.
Arm, repeated Gabrielle to herself, right. Arm, added a second thought, but with more alarm and trepidation. Merde, concluded a third thought. Gabrielle removed her Cloak of Darkness, then the jumper, black, that she wore over the vest, black. In her opinion, the weather was unnaturally cold, and seemed worse the closer one was to the Forbidden Forest, and Professor Hagrid's cottage was very close. Rolling up the sleeve of her blouse, black, Gabrielle wondered just how much arm would be required.
Smeared with wool grease up to her elbow, Gabrielle clamped her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep her stomach in place, tried to think of anything else, and pushed. Then she shut her eyes tightly. If she could not see what her hand was doing, then there was absolutely no reason to, eh, see what her hand was doing.
The insides of the ewe were warmer than Gabrielle expected, not that she had spent any time at all contemplating such. She was also surprised by the strength of the contractions that tried to push her intruding hand back out. The situation was interesting on some level, but mostly it was completely gross - it was so slimy. And the smell…
It was the first smell, a bit like the sea but with a musky undertone. That was quickly followed by the fragrance of the soil, and the fresh scent of the vegetation. Mother was near, licking Gabrielle to rouse her. The urge to stand was overwhelming, as much as the act itself seemed to be. Gabrielle wobbled and nearly-
''All right there, Gigi?" asked Hagrid, his hand engulfing her shoulder and shaking her. Gabrielle could barely maintain her balance. She nodded, momentarily uncertain as to how many limbs she needed for standing.
With well over half of her forearm stuck into the sheep, Gabrielle reached the, eh, well, whatever was coming the other way. She did not feel anything that she would call ropey, but there were a lot of things that she would call lumpy. Some of those things moved, which meant that the ewe was not about to lay eggs. Gabrielle shifted her position and twisted her arm to feel for the edges of the blocked birth canal. If she had to guess, she would say that the shells of the fire-sheep crabs were the problem. They had sort of bunched up and blocked the way. The only way to help was to push one of the lumpy parts back to allow the other to move on.
This was, thought Gabrielle, a quite logical plan, just one that was difficult to accomplish in practice. Neither the, eh, 'cramb' nor the ewe's insides wanted to cooperate. It took a lot more force than Gabrielle expected to push one of the unborn back. She could feel the other began to move forward again, which made her happy because the ewe would be saved and she could begin the three hour process of cleaning her arm and hand. It was the hand she ate with, so it was important to remove the first few layers of skin.
If one has small hands, it is reasonable to assume that one has small fingers. As Gabrielle began to carefully extricate her limb, one of those fingers proved too tempting for the newly freed, and decidedly ungrateful, 'cramb'. The lead magical spawn bit through the amniotic sac and latched onto Gabrielle's finger.
The process of mutant lamb-crab birth moved along much faster as a result. Gabrielle cried out and pulled her arm back reflexively. This did not free her finger, but it did break the dam. In a quite literal sense. A flood of amniotic fluid, soggy, tortoise-like lambs, and the after-birth gushed from the ewe onto Gabrielle, who fell back into the spreading puddle. The sheep, apparently much relieved and seemingly no worse for wear, soon began to lick her. She felt no urge to stand up.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle sat huddled beneath Hagrid's fur coat, facing the old wood stove which she had politely, but firmly, requested to be stoked until it glowed red-hot. She needed the coat because the house-elf that Hagrid had summoned had not returned with her clothes. She needed the stove because the cottage had no supply of hot water except a plain copper kettle - washing up had been an ordeal. A dip in the lake might have been warmer. Gabrielle did not need the raven that perched on the back of the chair, and the bird was doing nothing but glowering at her as if everything was her fault. Professor Hagrid called the raven Bleakwing, but, really, the hole in its wing was nearly healed now.
"Ye did well there, lass," praised Hagrid. He was bringing in more firewood. "I'm thankful I di'nt have ter cut 'er."
Gabrielle nodded. That would have been worse for the ewe, especially if magic could not be used. She wondered, though, what she would have chosen if she had been offered the choice. Probably not the knife.
Fang trotted in behind Hagrid and his logs. In his mouth was one of the Nufer crabs, which was the name that Hagrid had given to the breed. New fur - it was, she thought, supposed to be clever. The creatures had a shell with thick wool, the heavy legs of a tortoise but longer and ending in hooves, and the head of a lamb but with the beak-like jaws of the father. The wool made it easy for Fang to pick the melon-sized creatures up. The white puffballs were cute, and their longer legs allowed them to gambol, which was also cute. They were definitely going to be carnivores, though. Wool smeared with blood was, eh, not cute.
The blood came from the poor garden gnome, Pipe, although Gabrielle was certain that some had also come from Fang's tail. The gnome had more or less been living in the cottage, inside a fallen and forgotten tankard. More as of late as Fang had lost interest in chasing the gnome. Pipe, in turn, seemed to have lost interest in his mission and the Corps entirely. The Nufer crambs could do little to the dog's thick tail and could only lacerate her finger, but they could do serious damage to the unwary garden gnome. Could, and did. Pipe was bandaged up now, out of reach in the birdcage which had been Bleakwing's. The former Guardin' Gnome would probably survive. Gabrielle just hoped he was left-handed. Eh, left-armed. She shuddered recalling the crunching.
"Still feeling the chill there Gigi?" asked Hagrid. "Fang! Ye slobberin' bag o' bones! I jes' put them crambs ter bed."
What, wondered Gabrielle as Fang and her professor crashed around the crowded cottage, is taking the house-elf so long? There is magic, yes? The weekly detentions were taking up more and more of her time. It was not fair. Then Gabrielle had a terrible, terrible epiphany - she was not being treated as a troublesome student. The preordained pre-punishments had lost their meaning, and her professors had begun to treat her as, as... an apprentice. The thought made her shudder again. Being forced to grade essays was one thing, having small hands whenever needed was very much another.
"I hope it's not a touch o' Grippe," said Hagrid. He was using the sleeve of his shirt to open the door on the stove, which had barely reached a dull reddish color. The sleeve began to smoulder.
"Eh, no," replied Gabrielle. "Professor Hagrid, eh, about zis detention. I -"
"Ah, right. From the Halloween Ball," finished Hagrid. "No problem, lass. There's a stand of bricklebriar tha's all died back now. You know th' one? Tell 'em th' harvest is on Friday night."
"Eh, what?" Fang, having given up the cramb, came over to lick Gabrielle, which unsettled the raven. She immediately pulled his head to her lap, because if she did not the huge animal would try to climb onto it, and he was very heavy.
"Ye'll need at least a couple o' silver sickles wit yeh. Get 'em from Sprout on yer way back - they need to be kept in total darkness fer least a day."
"Eh, yes, okay," said Gabrielle. "But what I meant is zat zis detention is too long."
"It takes as long as it takes. Tha' patch is not far in," misunderstood Hagrid. "Yeh want ter know wot takes too long, Gigi? Ministry paperwork! Tha's wot takes too long."
Gabrielle nodded politely. Professor Elevagre had complained about that as well. Though, she seemed to recall him sounding more relieved in his complaints, even if it meant some exotic new specimen would be delayed or become unobtainable. However, she could not blame the Ministry for all the delays, because she had seen a couple of the applications that Professor Elevagre had filled out for the licenses to import dangerous magical creatures, and he always put 'early death' as one of the reasons. Gabrielle was sure that was supposed to be, eh, dry humor, just as she was sure that Ministry forms were not a place for such. Eh, wait, came a second thought.
"Ministry paperwork? You are getting a license for a magical creature? Zat is, a dangerous magical creature?" asked Gabrielle. "Eh, does ze Headmistress know zis?"
"I should not have said tha'," muttered Hagrid mostly to himself. "Well-l-l now, it, er, does fall into my 'port-o-foe', yeh see, so's it's all sort of, er, expected."
"Eh, what?" wondered Gabrielle. Did he mean pot-au-feu? He means, decided a second thought, no, the Headmistress does not know. Beef stew has nothing to do with it. Unless he was trying to get some sort of five-horned cattle. Was there something like that?
"Jes' a li'l surprise I think ye'll like."
v - v - v - v - v
"Gigi-chan, I beg you! Please!"
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. Suki-chan was doing that thing with her hands pressed together over her head. Gabrielle guessed that the action was meant to indicate the request was special, but Suki-chan used it for essay help too. "No! I have said zis. Asking again and again is rude. You should know zis."
"Please!"
It was hard to be alone in Hufflepuff, especially in the common room. They were attracting attention. What Gabrielle wanted to do was to find a nice quiet spot in the library, except getting there was currently too much of a bother, especially after the ordeal at Professor Hagrid's cottage. "You can just flick ink at ze wall, and zen clean it," whispered Gabrielle, hoping that Sukiya would get the hint.
"If you are not there, how can I know if fast enough?" asked Suki-chan in, at least, a normal volume.
"Zat is easy. It will never be fast enough since you have to put ze ink on first and zen do ze spell." The only hope, it seemed to Gabrielle, was for her friend to catch her opponent off-guard. Off-guard and inattentive. And somewhat incompetent. Or perhaps, began another thought.
"I have nekomimi," said Sukiya in a wheedling tone of voice.
"Eh, what?" Various parts of Gabrielle's mind were busy forcing dots to connect logically.
"It is headband that makes cat ears - nekomimi," explained Suki-chan. She showed the black curved, polished item, then put in her hair. "It is kawaii, right?"
Gabrielle could see tiny runes, like the ones Suki-chan would draw with her brush, glimmer for a moment. Then a pair of cat-like ears sprouted from Sukiya's silky hair. They were cute, and they twitched and twisted just like real ones.
"Would you like to try?" The cat ears perked and focussed.
"Eh, no," said Gabrielle regretfully. "No zank you." Mixing magic and her hair almost always led to trouble, and the ears that now drooped were exactly the same color as Suki-chan's hair.
"Please!"
This, thought Gabrielle, all had to do with humours moving through the very, very tiny gaps that Phillipe said were always there. The colored strands of the car that Monsieur Weasley fixed and a wand were therefore similar. The inner core was different from the outer covering, which Gabrielle now decided was to allow the humour or magic to flow along the core for preference. A broken wand would not work properly; the strands sparked if they were frayed. Gabrielle was not completely sure if the sparking was actually a problem, but Monsieur Weasley had worked until they did not. Suki-chan's brush was just a sparking strand. The analogy was quite good, because some of the thicker, sparkier strands were actually made up of dozens of metal threads wound together, and looked like a bit like Suki-chan's brush when frayed. The bristles of the brush had to be like wand cores, and, therefore, the ink was the covering. But, and this was the important question, did the ink have to be wet? That was worth testing.
That was an excellent insight Gabrielle decided, and the thought following it had been very good as well. It was this: she would get Mags to be the target, with the excuse of tutoring the first-year on the shield spell. Herr Korbel was very ambitious in his lesson plan.
"Gigi-chan? Is that cackle?"
"Eh, what? No, I do not zink so. I have decided zat I will help, if you go and bring Mags."
"Arigato, Gigi-chan!" Sukiya jumped up to rush off, at the same time taking the polished headband from her head and jamming it suddenly onto Gabrielle's. The band fell away instantly with a loud snapping sound.
Gabrielle caught the pieces as they fell. This was not her fault, not that Suki-chan even noticed. Why was this practice so important?
v - v - v - v - v
Much was learned during the practice. The brush, or brush-san, as the worried Suki-chan referred to it, actually made a decent wand when the bristles were stiff with dried ink. Of course, it was not much of a brush at that point. Gabrielle pointed out that it could be used like a charcoal pencil, if one pressed and rubbed hard enough, but the protective Suki-chan would not try it. The brush could be a wand or a brush, but not both at the same time. Which Japanese wizards already knew.
With a decent wand, and without the extra step of dunking it in ink, Suki-chan proved to be a very capable duelist. She was certainly fast, which she said was due to her ninny, that is, ninja training. This was demonstrated with a long series of interlocking hand motions, a recited list of animals, and finally her blowing across the tips of her fingertips. Suki-chan's hands were nearly a blur, but it would have been more impressive if something had actually happened. She explained that the, well, 'spell' would defeat a dead soul. Gabrielle nodded; that sort of thing would have been handy earlier with the vampire. Then she felt for Pepi-Z in a panic.
That was when Gabrielle discovered that headband had managed to do at least half of its magic. She had a fuzzy, second set of ears. Gabrielle thought it odd that she could not feel them moving without touching them, and hoped that meant that her hair would not become a puffball or stick straight out in retaliation. Pepi-Z seemed to be fine, though she could not tell if he felt defeated.
Suki-chan, when Gabrielle asked about the ears, assured her that the ears were cute, completely missing the point, which was that Gabrielle did not have the headband on. That meant that she could not take the headband off. How long would the magic last?
Another thing Gabrielle learned was that Mags had an aversion to the word cute. The term really seemed to bother the Gryffindor, even if it was not directed at her. This was a bit unfortunate. The first-year's attempts at the shield spell were not very good, and Suki-chan was using a sneezing hex for the practice. So nearly every try ended with a 'sneep', or series of them, which was the cutest sneeze that Gabrielle or Suki-chan had ever heard. Even after they quit mentioning it, it seemed that Mags could sense they still thought so.
That was extra motivation for learning the spell, but also extra distraction. Mags was getting angry and frustrated, so the practice paused while Gabrielle guided the girl's hand through the motions. She wondered if they were asking too much of the first-year, since Mags leaned back heavily into Gabrielle. Then the two of them practiced sneezing for a while, which was a little weird but helped a bit. Now Mags just sounded surprised by livestock (ah-sheep!) or a discount at a shop (ah-cheap!). That was pretty funny, but it was better than being cute to her.
The practice ended when Gabrielle realized that it was nearly curfew. She gave Mags a half dozen Wheezes, but not the rocket-propelled dung bombs, as thanks, and the pass from the Headmistress, just in case. She got a lingering hug in return, and the expressed hope that she would destroy Slytherin. Gabrielle was not sure what that was about.
Once Mags was on her way, Sukiya admitted the reason for the earnest practice. She was hoping to catch the eye of a certain Gryffindor, as a prelude to eventually working up the nerve to speak with him. There was not even two months before the Christmas Dance now. Gabrielle nodded; she herself would need to start working on George.
The room for the practice, a mostly empty room close to the kitchens, was just down the corridor from the Hufflepuff dorm, so returning was not a problem. Gabrielle and Suki-chan were not even close to being late. Which made the receptions in the common room surprising.
"Where is Marigold?"