Chapter Twenty-Nine - Gifts
Gabrielle was sure she was not just imaging things, and that she was being followed by someone. It was a premonition; the feeling of eyes upon her. And, it was not just Mags this time. Fortunately, it was hard to be alone in Hufflepuff. Except, as was the case, if one had constant detentions with a professor prone to bouts of cosmic dissonance, which could only be addressed by her returning alone to her private rooms. The Divination classroom was at least simple to escape. That is, if one usually has a broom handy and a window to open. Thank Merlin for the first-years' efforts in cleaning.
Professor Trelawney was less morose these days. She was grateful to Gabrielle for telling the Headmistress of her visions, but not grateful enough to go back to teaching the first-years. Gabrielle had politely inquired. Trelawney explained that she needed time to study the actual meaning of the visions, and to further explore this new field of somnoraculum. That name was not going to fool anyone. It was literally 'sleep vision'.
Gabrielle was fairly certain of who was stalking her. It had to be the Head Craig, or possibly the Head Krang. She would have checked to see if it was the real Craig Torrae or his doppelgänger Krang Earrot, but one of them had stolen the map that George had given her. Which, when she thought of it, made actual stalking somewhat pointless as her name would be on the map.
She suspected the Head Boy because she could not find Poisseux or any of the Sisters, and he had complained about them getting into his things. Poisseux was larger now, so perhaps he had managed to, eh... What? Gnaw holes in his socks?
The toads were less pets and more like a miniature class of first-years; they did not always listen to her and she had to clean up after them. But now Sauveuret was also acting weirdly. He would disappear for a day at a time, then return dirty, cold, and sometimes bleeding from his claws. Gabrielle could get no sense of what he was up to, because he was a squirrel and could not talk. All she knew was that the little mammal would pretend to sleep if she brought up Poisseux. She would treat his paws with some of Professor Hagrid's concoctions, and remind him that there was plenty of food if he was trying to bury some in the frozen ground outside.
Gabrielle cocked her head and listened. Was someone climbing the ladder to reach the classroom's trapdoor? There was no lock for it, and her improvised trap - a bowl of powdered Slitherin' Sludge with a very full glass of water on it set atop the trapdoor - had only succeeded in making Professor Trelawney angry when she had unexpectedly returned. Gabrielle knew of several spells that were supposed to open locked doors; perhaps it was time to study the magic that would lock open doors.
The assignment for this detention was the usual cleaning, which did not take long as it was done weekly. Gabrielle found smudges of jam on one of the crystal balls. She would have to see if she could get some napkins from the house-elves for the classroom. There was often tea, and they were in Great Britain. She supposed the temptation was too great.
Gabrielle dragged one of the low tables onto the trapdoor. She would have temporarily slipped it into her handbag to make it easier to move, but the last time she had done that with school furniture it had ended very, very badly. The Head Boy would not be able to sneak in now, especially if she sat on the table.
Since she was alone and finished with her task, Gabrielle decided to investigate the package she had received from Harry Potter. There was another convocation coming up if whatever he had sent needed Seeing. The Darkest Shadows would be so thrilled.
Of course, the package was under the crates that Professor Hagrid had, eh, acquired from Gaston. The things in Gabrielle's handbag did not squash each other, but the items on top did have to be moved to reach the ones below. They certainly had weight when doing that, but not if the same objects were being removed from the handbag. What this meant was that the crates would have to come out also.
Watching the first of the crates slowly be disgorged from the handbag made Gabrielle wince, as she could not help but see it as a chicken laying a dragon egg. Which was something that she would never ever say near Professor Hagrid, in case it inspired him. The thought also reminded her of the dragon egg that, probably, Fred had sent. There was no baby dragon trapped in the handbag, so the egg was probably still safe.
Gabrielle took a moment to look over the crates. They were made of wood planks, all nailed together, without doors and hinges. Getting the crate open would take some thought. Wood could, if required to do so in a supervised classroom, burn, and she could probably cause it to explode. She really wanted to try a Blasting Curse some time. Neither would retrieve the contents unscathed, though. Monsieur Toulier, thought Gabrielle, would have no problems opening the box with his muggle tools. He was in France though.
The thin box from Harry Potter was much easier to open. It was simply sealed with Spellotape, and mostly held five orange and black quidditch jerseys from the Chudley Cannons, autographed. The letter accompanying the jerseys explained, sort of, that they could be used for, eh, 'ar lnibes'. Possibly. Perhaps he had been on his broom in the middle of a match when he had written the note. Gabrielle wondered it Mags would like one, since she was in Gryffindor.
A second letter was from Hermione, and was far more legible. In neat, precise handwriting, Gabrielle's chosen role-model asked her to perform a seance over the kettle. The goal was to try and contact Rowena Ravenclaw's spirit and learn what became of her diadem. Hermione believed that Gabrielle had been the medium for the seances Nona had held in Albania.
Gabrielle read the letter several times, just to make sure of what it said, because she could not see how those conclusions had been reached. She remembered the seances, the chilling cold, and the voices. But, it had been Nona that had initiated the magic, yes? Gabrielle would have to try, of course, and also send an owl to Hermione about her visions with the kettle. That might be helpful when the seance failed. If, corrected a more hopeful thought. Could Professor Trelawney be of any help there?
Gabrielle turned her attention back to the crates from Gaston. She had noticed a knothole in one of the planks that looked like an eye. Eyes could open, and this one did after an unexpectedly lengthy transfiguration. It was only after remembering the saying that eyes were windows to the soul that she got an opening. Not a large opening, but enough to see that whatever was in the crate was further protected by weird, spongy white chunks. It was probably best to save it for later.
Except, came a second thought, if there was a second layer of protection, then the first layer could be removed less, eh, carefully. That was definitely logical. Gabrielle decided to think a bit more, and concluded that she should aim for a corner of the crate. That would break three sides, certainly enough to open it.
The first few attempts did nothing, but that was okay because Gabrielle needed to practice the movements and to work out how much of a run-up she needed. When that was done, she took a moment for some deep breaths and to find the Deep Well. Or maybe the Tower? There were various schools of thought on the matter of magical concentration. Or rather, concentrating on the magic. She was never certain of which she should seek. Fleur had always said that she was not deep, but then Gabrielle also knew she was not particularly tall. What if she had neither?
Gabrielle had not quite resolved the question when other, impatient thoughts took control. She lunged forward, brandished her wand, and barked, "Confringo!" The spell hit the target, since it was cast less than a hand's width away. The heavy crate jumped when the spell hit it, and a piece of the top was even torn off. The spongy white material at the corner was now like snow settling over everything nearby.
The success of the spell with respect to the muggle crate was evident, and it was further proof of a growing magical gift. Gabrielle could not celebrate that notion. Her eyes were shut tightly and her hands were over her ears in an attempt to block out the carnage taking place. The section of the top blasted from the crate had sailed end over end into the tall cabinet storing shelf upon shelf of freshly cleaned crystal balls. She had not closed the doors immediately because she enjoyed the sight of the gleaming rows. The jagged missile did not hit any of the crystal balls, though. Would that it had! Instead of one ruined ball, the flung piece hit the highest shelf, which was apparently only secured by spellotape. The shelf gave way, dropping the balls onto the next shelf down, which then collapsed as well. The rest of the disaster unfolded unseen, because she shut her eyes. It was harder to not hear the awful shattering.
Gabrielle slumped and sighed. It was not difficult to see her future in the glittery mess on the floor. If the Headmistress was livid over the loss of a few trees that would grow back by themselves, then what would she be for something the school would have to actually replace? This was a disaster. Gabrielle imagined the owl with the notice that she was expelled was already on the way to her Maman. Was there nothing to be done?
Well, thought Gabrielle, a Reparo was definitely out of the question. There were too many fragments, and they were all mixed up. She wondered if the house-elves could help, but doubted that spellotape would be transparent enough to go unnoticed. This merdique situation was the result of the merdique construction of the merdique shelves anyway.
It was a quiet thought, but a persistent one. There were no witnesses. The shelf could have collapsed at any point all on its own. The damage did not have to be because of her spell at all. Gabrielle did not even need to lie; she just needed to not mention the crate. Then it would be the suspect construction of the storage cabinet that would be blamed.
Retrieving the flung piece of the top was the first step. Gabrielle was surprised by how light it felt. Clearly the shelf had been fragile. She also found that the crystals had not been a total loss. Out of the original twenty balls, five had been completely cushioned by the heaps of glass shards and one had only a few small chips. That was enough for the pairs in the first-year class that were not just using the time to revise.
Even though a section of the top was missing, Gabrielle still could not pry the crate open. It was going to take more magic, done outdoors and away from the castle's windows, or Professor Hagrid to open it fully. Perhaps she could ask the Ipswich Diggers to help too; they could interrupt the closed-ness of the box or something.
There was enough of a gap to reach inside, which Gabrielle did after her usual last-second pause to consider the wisdom of just sticking her hand into any opening. The crate was a muggle one though, and already broken, so she felt confident that it would at least not snip her hand off. Again. She was able to move aside the spongy bits enough to see a glimpse of something curved and red inside. More determined digging exposed a knob, and Gabrielle realized what it was. She had seen it years ago at Gaston's coffeehouse.
Gabrielle pulled her exploring arm free. The thing inside was the roasting machine that released the flavor of the beans to create Gaston's wonderful coffee. Why had Professor Hagrid - no, thought Gabrielle, Gaston was a muggle. Packing his roaster like this would have taken some time. Was his coffeehouse finally closing for good? Forever? She could not believe it. Also, why had he sent it to her? There was no where to use the plugs. Of course, thought Gabrielle, Gaston would not have known that; that she was a witch. She wondered if Mr. Weasley could make it work. It was not a car, after all.
As Gabrielle made to work the crate back into her handbag, she found the sleeve of her jumper to be covered by granules of the spongy stuff that had been gently exploded by her spell. It was very odd stuff. The granules were not sticky or prickly, but she could not brush them off without having them cling somewhere else. They were all over the floor as well, and would move and jump when her hand reached for them. Gabrielle had never seen anything muggle do that before.
The mysterious material was not some strange new insect, nor a seed. Gabrielle determined that by ripping apart one of the granules with her fingers. There was no difference between the outside and inside, which was not something seen with living things. She was glad about that since if it had been a baby dwarf pygmy puffskein she would have felt terrible for killing it.
Vanishing the granules on the floor was simple enough, as long as one bent low enough to only see carpet. That made it easier for the magic to know what to work on. Gabrielle was not going try vanishing the white puffs on her sleeve though, just in case the spell was too, eh, vigorous. She needed the jumper to keep from freezing.
With the crate back in the handbag and the carpet cleaned up, Gabrielle stepped back to review the scene of the awful and also very inexplicable accident once more.
"It is almost as if you were not involved at all."
"Oui, exactement," agreed Gabrielle brightly. "Je suis -". Gabrielle did not bother to turn. That had not been her thought; it had been McGonagall's voice. Merde. A glance showed that the table was still on top of the trapdoor. "How did you, eh, get in?"
"The great and old castle of Hogwarts is a bit drafty, and there are a variety of means depending on what size one chooses to be," replied the Headmistress. "Tell me what happened here."
"Eh, I was... eh, zat is..."
"I won't say when I arrived, as I expect you might change your answer."
There was an expression 'saved by the bell'. Gabrielle did not use it as she never learned what bell was meant. And, the ringing of the castle's biggest bell was not so much saving her as delaying her inevitable doom. The bell sounding meant that some idiot had let the unicorn into the castle again, and that she had to go and convince it to leave.
McGonagall sighed. "We will continue after you address that."
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle wanted to scream. It was one thing to let in the unicorn who, she suspected, rather enjoyed the attention of fawning witches, and so was only a danger to the other half of the population. It was quite another thing entirely to let in the hippogriff. Was it even possible to confuse the two? Had someone actually thought, "Beak, wings, and claws. That's a unicorn there all right." Also, that was definitely blood on the floor. Not, she judged, enough for someone to have been bitten in half, but certainly more than a clawing. Gabrielle had acquired a good knowledge of various blood flows from helping Professor Elevagre at... at her other school.
Shrieks and shouting suggested a lead as to the location of the hippogriff, and so Gabrielle followed the sounds. She quickly found a small knot of students cornered by the creature. At least some of the students were first-years; Mags was in front with her wand out. What even was the point of that? Was it possible that Professor Hagrid had been correct in trying to teach proper hippogriff etiquette to the younger classes? Where was he anyways?
Gabrielle stepped around the hippogriff and began pushing the other students out the other side. "Pschtt. Pschtt. Allez-vous-en, imbéciles! Shoo. Shoo." She was counting on the hippogriff, Witherwings, to be amused or confused.
The strategy worked, as the cornered students were happy to flee. Well, except for Mags, who was so relieved by Gabrielle's arrival that she completely forgot about self-preservation. Gabrielle bent her into a bow and told her to stay that way. Then, Gabrielle calmly straightened her robes, dusting them thoroughly with her hands, turned to the watching hippogriff, and bowed as well. The theatre would make it special.
Witherwings returned the bow surprisingly quickly, which either meant that he was happy to see her or that he was having regrets about his current situation. Both possibilities were definitely to Gabrielle's favor. She straightened up and smiled as if a dangerous creature turning up in the halls was just what she had hoped for. Except, she wondered, now what?
"Can I get up?" whispered Mags.
"Non. You were, eh, rude wizz your wand."
"It was going to eat us!"
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. It was always everything is going to eat everybody, as if there was no food in the forest at all. "Perhaps Monsieur Wizzerwings just wanted a tour of ze castle. Did you zink to ask?"
Actually, wondered Gabrielle, did he want tour? She addressed the hippogriff. "Eh, I apologize for ze mess. I was not expecting a visit. Please, eh, ignore ze students for now." It did not matter what was said, as long as a calm voice was used. "Shall we go?" She turned, and the hippogriff did also. That was good.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle could not just lead Witherwings back to the entrance. That was too obvious, and he would not he fooled. But if the unicorn had trouble moving around the castle, then adding wings only made it worse. So, she lead the hippogriff to the Great Hall, reciting facts about the castle remembered from 'Hogwarts, a History'. She felt it would not take long before the creature became bored and would be very interested in the exit.
The Great Hall had the enchanted ceiling, which looked like the night sky. Witherwings spread his wings as soon as he saw it, and Gabrielle quickly explained the illusion. The creature looked dubious, so she brought out her broom and she and her unexpected passenger Mags demonstrated the ceiling was solid by slapping it with their hands. The hippogriff joined them in the air, but could not hover like a broom. He was able to give the ceiling a peck to confirm, though. The piece chipped away was hardly noticeable.
Flight offered more possibilities for touring, especially since stairs were tricky for quadrupeds. A second thought suggested that the interest in the ceiling might have been a sign that Witherwings was ready to leave, but then that would also mean that the Headmistress would come for her. Instead, Gabrielle shooed the loitering students from the main staircase landing, beckoned the hippogriff, and set off for the infirmary.
If one were to ask, the choice of the infirmary as a destination was based on the width of the hall leading to it, and the double doors at the entrance to it. No thought was given to the idea that it might be the location of the possible victim and source of the blood, someone who might not react well to the hippogriff's arrival. There, eh, was a fuss.
A fortuitous fuss, in Gabrielle's opinion. The victim had been the Head Boy, who had somehow managed to get slashed across his abdomen. Gabrielle could overlook the first-years' ignorance, but he should have known the proper etiquette. He also should have been sedated. Being both loud and rude had to interfere with the healing process. She really could not see how it could be her fault.
Madam Pomfrey stepped from her office to harrumph from a safe distance, and to state that any cleanup would be Gabrielle's responsibility. She then returned to her office and closed the door. The brief distraction gave Gabrielle a moment to whisper Mags an order before demanding that the hippogriff show her its talons so she could check for an infection of stupid germs from the Head Boy. That was just for diversion, of course.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle learned some new things about hippogriffs. Or, at least, this hippogriff. The first was that Witherwings did not like cake. After leaving the infirmary, Gabrielle was able to recover her map from the Head Boy's personal items that Mags had snatched. As she had expected! This meant that Mags learned of the map's function also, but that was fine. After stuffing the rest of the items - clothes, shoes, and his surprisingly unpleasant wand - into a nearby suit of armor, which put up a bit of a struggle about it until the Petrificus, Gabrielle suggested a tea. It was very British thing to do, and she suspected that Witherwings did not get many invitations.
Gabrielle led the way back to the Great Hall, and assigned Mags the task of fetching the tea, with an extra cup for her. Then she set out a dozen pieces of various cakes, because each piece would hardly be a mouthful for Witherwings. The hippogriff eyed the selections suspiciously, then snatched up one in a sudden strike. The chosen confection was then almost immediately spat out, which was a bit of a faux pas on his part. Not that Gabrielle was going to point it out.
Witherwings tried a second piece, with the same result. Mags returned with the tea, and Gabrielle realized the faux pas on her side. There was no way that the hippogriff was going to be able to handle even the largest mug. Perhaps, came a second thought, there was a reason why most creatures did not take tea, even if they were in Great Britain.
Gabrielle persevered however, standing on the table to hold the mug for Witherwings. This is when she learned that hippogriffs do not like tea either. The entire thing was a disaster. Fortunately, Gabrielle had only just suggested a trip to the kitchens when a cart full of various animal parts appeared. That was certainly more to Witherwings' tastes.
While Witherwings was snacking on meaty or wobbly bits of animal, Gabrielle sent Mags off for some plain water. Gabrielle had to wonder if the cake had gone off, since the first-year was not eating either. Or, she supposed, the fact that Mags flinched every time the hippogriff moved might be the reason her appetite was lacking.
Gabrielle also did not like tea, so she began feeding roasted beans to her Cowfee Cow. There was no one else around to complain. While she did so, Hetty appeared with a pitcher of water and a peeved expression. Gabrielle thanked her anyway, and hoped that was sufficient for the house-elf.
The sections of cake were still perfectly preserved, which meant that Mags was still worried about being eaten. Well, there was no way to correct that notion if going about the castle right next to the hippogriff did not. Gabrielle slid Mags' tea and cake over to the seat next to hers with a sigh. Witherwings spotted the movement. "She is, eh, worried zat she will make ze mess in front of you," explained Gabrielle. That was possible, anyway. Where had Mags gone? There was a guest. To just leave without saying a farewell was also rude.
The moment passed because the little ceramic cow began to low, which interested the hippogriff. Gabrielle turned the cow so he could see the fragrant brown liquid drain into her cup. Witherwings lowered his beak close to the cup, and sniffed. Then he raised his head and looked at Gabrielle expectantly.
Gabrielle looked into the cup, which was not even half full. The Cowfee Cow did have other settings, depending on how the horns were twisted, but she always used the espresso setting. Would the creature even he able to taste it? She climbed back onto the table to tip what little there was into his beak.
Hippogriffs liked coffee, or at least Witherwings did. Gabrielle started the third brew, and thought that perhaps coffee might be not good for hippogriffs. Witherwings had only had two tiny, compared to his size, servings, but was tearing around the Great Hall as if she had replaced all his blood with the brown liquid. He was not being particularly careful about it either. If a few crystal balls getting damaged was potentially grounds to be expelled, then what could happen for a dozen smashed tables?
That, thought Gabrielle, was a worry, but really, how was this her fault? She had not let the hippogriff into the castle, and she was not the one who had provoked it by bleeding all over the entry hall. So it was really the Head Craig's fault. Or Professor Hagrid's, who was probably out visiting the 'neighbors'. It was also possible that he was busy arranging for another dangerous creature. He should be, judged Gabrielle, focused on keeping the current ones outside.
The ceramic cow finished, and Gabrielle brought the cup to her lips. It was her turn to enjoy Gaston's special blend. It smelled heavenly, and tasted of, well... melancholy. Gérard had died months ago, coughing out what little life had been left to him. The colonel had taken a fall, and was bed-ridden with a badly broken hip. He did not have long, even if no one wanted to say it. Claude, who had been shot, beaten, and tortured by the Nazis, and then returned the brutality in kind, slipped away one night with nary a fight. His son said that he had a smile on his broken face when they found him. That was hard to imagine. Alain's daughter decided that he should be closer to them; she lived in Nice. The Resistance could fight everything except time. There was no reason to keep the shop now. The crazy kid with the reverse mortgage was sharper than he had seemed, and had won. But what would she do with herself? Why had she roasted another batch anyway, except out of decades of habit? There was no one left who cared. Except, possibly, that young -
Gabrielle startled when something landed on her shoulder. She had not expected it; why would she when there would be no one coming into... her shop? She shook her head.
The hand belonged to the Headmistress. "The calm at the center of a maelstrom of mayhem."
"Eh, what?" asked Gabrielle before remembering very important things. "Zis is not my fault! It was not ze unicorn, but ze hippogriff zat some idiot let in!" Actually, wondered a second thought, where was Witherwings now?
"We will retrace the trail of destruction at a later time," smiled McGonagall thinly. "Right now there are more than a half dozen people in my office who expect your presence."
"Eh, what?" Gabrielle was distracted. The hippogriff was slumped on the ground. Was he just tired, or, or...
"I would have sent someone, had I known you had subdued the creature."
v - v - v - v - v
There was certainly a crowd in McGonagall's office. Hermione and Harry Potter were there, along with Ginny and Ron. Disappointedly, George was not present. Neither was Fred, which was not so bad. Stanislaw and Sebastion were there too; Gabrielle supposed they had become impatient. Professor Korbel was standing just to the side of the Headmistress's desk, with his wand in hand. Was that because of the Gringott goblin who looked annoyed, or because of the one wizard that Gabrielle had not already met. He was a little bent with age and had only a few wisps of hair, but his dark eyes were clear. That was easy to see, as his attention turned to Gabrielle as soon as she entered. She smiled as if she was happy to see them all then hurried to stand near Sukiya, who was wearing her red and white shrine girl outfit. Shrine maiden, thought Gabrielle, correcting herself. Was she leaving?
"Liebchen-"
"I represent Gringott, and have-"
"Who said you could go first, eh?" asked the older wizard.
"Indeed," began the Headmistress. "We will begin with Miss Shimagina, who has given me what she says is a formal summons from the Japanese Ministry of 'Majutsu to Bakemono', if I am remembering that correctly. Unfortunately, it is entirely in what I assume is Japanese. Miss Shimagina?"
"Hai," replied Sukiya quickly. She turned to Gabrielle with a small bow and held out a small shiny red box. "Father sent this. We go to London for gishiki sabetsu tomorrow."
"Oh, eh, okay, I zink. What is zis?" Gabrielle lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a loop of beads that looked too large to be a bracelet, but too small to be a necklace. The beads seemed to be carved from various wood, but she could not tell the species.
"Prayer beads," replied Sukiya, her voice filled with confusion. "My mother's..."
"Eh, zank you for letting me, eh, borrow zem. How will we get zere? Also, what is a sabootso? Eh, Suki-chan?"
"Ah, gomen. I leave that to you."
"Eh, what?"
"I am here from Gringott to deliver-"
"Why should you be next?" interrupted the elderly wizard rather forcefully. "Now, dear, as it happens, I was returning to London this evening, but I will gladly dally until tomorrow if it would-"
"I assure you that, of all, I have the least interest in the affairs of wizards, and so should be allowed to escape," argued Gagnek. "Pardon, I meant to conclude official Gringott business." He set the iron box on the desk with a flourish. Wizards were easily distracted, and the heavily magicked box radiated menace. Well, at least to those not employed by the bank.
"I know that is not the case," declared Harry.
"And you, Hereward Wodehouse, live in Devon," chided Hermione.
"Professor Extraordinarily Emeritus Wodehouse, girl. London is, erm, on the way."
"Not quite officially, mind," added McGonagall.
"I'm going to have to go with her, aren't I?" sighed Ginny.
"I believe it is now close to curfew. Miss Shimagina, you may take your leave," said the Headmistress. "You can go back to the dorms," she clarified when the expected response was not forthcoming.
Suki-chan bowed her way out, and Gabrielle could not help feeling a little envious. Especially since she was instructed to take the chair in front of the desk, instead of standing off to the side with Sukiya. The antlered stone was adjusted. Was that just out of habit?
While there was a discussion about who would be allowed to go next, Gabrielle wondered about the box. If everyone was expecting her, then the decorated metal box was surely meant for her. That was logic, but also a little worrying. Had they found something else belonging to Granary Winterhall? If it was only an invoice for maintenance of the estate, they would not bother with such a presentation. It had to be a keepsake of some sort, she concluded. One that had been valuable to the departed Winterhall, or else such a smug box would not be required. Smug? A second thought pondered that choice. There was clearly magic on the box, so 'secure' seemed more apt. Or, most likely, dangerous. Somehow, though, smug was her impression.
She would find out about the contents soon enough, as, unbelievably, Ron loudly announced that the only one they did not need after was the goblin. That was definitely rude, but the goblin took the opportunity. He introduced himself and pulled out a thick scroll. Addressing Gabrielle by her full name, then as Melusina, he began reciting the herewith's and thereafter's contained in the scroll.
That was tedious, but it did confirm for Gabrielle that the delivery was for her. She also realized who it was from: Herr Von Schnittwinkel. Where had he lived? She did not remember if she had ever known. The deed for the Winterhall estate had come in an envelope though, so this might be something else. She reached for the box, and shrieked just a tiny bit when her wrist was roughly pinned to the desk.
"(Are you a dummkopf?)" asked Stanislaw sharply, before removing his hand. "(There is a curse. Do not touch it.)"
"(I know that,)" said Gabrielle.
"(And yet you reached for it.)"
"I think we should change seats," suggested Hereward. "I can protect her without resorting to violence."
"Are you paying attention at all?" asked Gagnek. "This is important."
"Eh, it is ze same as before, yes? I do, eh, not have to accept zis, but if I do not zen ze ghost of Herr Von Schnittwinkel will haunt me or somezing."
"What?!" asked Gagnek in shock. He unfurled more of the scroll to read ahead.
"Ziss may become a problem," announced Professor Korbel.
"Indeed," nodded the Headmistress. "Fortunately, Gringott employees are renown for their professionalism." Since that was said slightly louder than necessary, Gabrielle took it for a warning. She probably would not be allowed to take cover behind Ron.
Gagnek continued reading from the document, his seething evident from the staccato delivery. When he finished, he snatched up the ornate iron box to examine it, then set it back on the desk, growling something in Gobbledegook. The utterance sounded decidedly unpleasant, and so he became the focus of attention.
Briefly, because Gabrielle reached for the box again. Logically. The scroll had been read, the box handled, and there had been an incantation, probably. Goblins did not have wands, so how else would they use spells? That meant, logically, she could find out what was inside, yes?
No. There was a violent, violet flash and fiery explosion. Gabrielle was flung backwards into the wall, which probably would have hurt a lot except that Sebastion had come up behind her and made for a cushion. He had been the only one to react to her action, and now was crumpled on the floor in front of a curse-breaker shaped hole in the wall. Gabrielle would check on him, but first she screamed out the Flameproof Mousse spell to save the office, jabbing her wand wildly.
At least until her wand was slapped from her hand by a spell. Gabrielle could not tell who had cast though; everyone had a wand out and pointed at her. Except for the goblin, of course. And the elderly wizard, eh, Hereford?, who was complimenting the delicate flavor of the mousse. Also the Headmistress, who was tending a small fire right on her desk, bemoaning the unfortunate circumstances completely out of her control that led to the total loss of Madame Malfoy's correspondences. That McGonagall was adding to the flames from a desk drawer undermined her lament.
"How are you still alive?" asked Gagnek, slapping lemony mousse from his coat.
"Eh, Sebastion, he - Oh! Sebastion!" Gabrielle whirled around to find that the curse-breaker was more upright than before.
"I live?" guessed Sebastion with a groan. He did not sound sure. That made Gabrielle happy, so she smiled at him. He returned the smile, blood coating his teeth.
"You should have been turned to ash where you stood,"
"Eh, what? But you removed ze curse!"
"No, I was about to. A curse of that power would have taken more than a mere moment," said Gagnek. He added, uncertainly, "Unless..."
"It vas Unglük," inserted Professor Korbel.
"Zen what was zat spell?"
"He was just whinging about his life to their Dark God," explained Ron.
"You know Gobbledegook?" asked Gabrielle, surprised.
"Course not. They all moan the same way, though, so you pick up on it. Is there any chance of tea? This mousse is making me peckish."
"(Open it, liebchen. Perhaps a buyer could be found.)"
Gabrielle wondered if that was even possible. The Winterhall estate did not seem like it could be sold. She tried to pull the box closer, but it refused to move. Likewise, she could not budge the lid. Clearly, not all of the magic had been removed. "Eh, excusez-moi, Monsieur, eh, Inkspill-"
"Unkspel," corrected Harry.
"Monsieur Unkspel, eh, zis is, eh, still sealed."
Gagnek stepped forward and tapped the iron gingerly with a finger. Whatever had happened to the curse protecting the box might have left stray energy that may be dangerous to goblins as well. "There is nothing," he concluded. He could not wrench it free of the desk either.
That began a debate on what spell would be best to use to break open the recalcitrant container, with a side discussion between Stanislaw and Professor Korbel about something in German. Madame Pomfrey was summoned for poor Sebastion, who was prone again after a failed attempt at standing. Gabrielle stood by awkwardly, as her chair had faired as poorly as the curse-breaker. She did not want to draw attention to that. The elderly wizard patted his lap as an invitation. Gabrielle did not need Ginny shaking her head behind him to know to ignore the offer.
Tea arrived via house-elf. Another brought a padded footstool for her. Two more brought platters heaped with biscuits, crackers, and cheeses. It seemed like a long evening was expected.
Gabrielle did not like tea, and anyway had enjoyed coffee earlier with Witherwings. There had been cake, also. She could not really contribute much to the discussion, and her wand had found its way onto the Headmistress's desk, closer to McGonagall than her. Was it forbidden to put out fires now as well as start them? Accidentally start them? This was beginning to be boring.
The cushion of the footstool was old and saggy, and Gabrielle sank into it. Was there some sort of chair shortage in the castle? A second thought decided not to ask about it, since the hippogriff had made quite a mess in the Great Hall, landing on and launching from the furniture. The poor seating left her nearly eye-level with the top of the desk, its pile of ashes, and the box. The box with its hinges right there. The joint was covered by filigreed metal when viewed from above, but was visible if one looked from below. Gabrielle recalled a bit on the knife from Gaston that looked made for poking. She had never used it; perhaps this was its purpose.
The discussion of spells had turned into more of an argument, which was involving. At least to those, eh, involved. The goblin Unkspel was of the opinion that wizard magic would be useless against Gringott magics. Harry asked if that was the magic the goblin had not detected, which seemed a little rude. Ron was pretty sure that there was an auror entry spell that would work after a try or two. He had taken off the front of a house once with it, he claimed. The Headmistress was not in favor of that plan. Hermione wanted to take a quick break of a few hours to do some research. Ginny did not like that idea, and suggested that the box looked very nice where it was.
Gabrielle, in the meanwhile, had dug out the muggle knife, and levered out the pointy metal stub. She gave the pin of the hinge a tentative poke, which did nothing. A second thought wondered why she was surprised that nothing happened when Ron, at least, was suggesting spells that could destroy the room. Still, it was disappointing, so Gabrielle gave the pin a bit more enthusiastic jab. That moved the pin a little; determined pushing caused the pin to jut out the far side of the box as much as the pointy stub was stuck in. Which was not very much, but enough to grab.
It was because she was below the general eye-level of the others. That was Gabrielle's reply to the third thoughts that wondered why she thought her actions would go unnoticed. Which obviously failed to take into account that she was poking and jabbing the very thing they were arguing about what to do with. Her excuse was that it was quite late and she had had a long day.
Gagnek reached over and pulled the hinge pin free, holding it up to examine it. Stanislaw tried to lift the lid, but it was still stuck. He was able to bend the lid backwards, as if the hinge was now in the front instead of the back.
"Ah." That was all the Headmistress said as she could see the contents first. Professor Korbel could also see it, and he said something in German. Stanislaw straightened up in his chair.
"(Liebchen, take it.)"
Gabrielle stood and looked into the box and gasped, unpleasant memories of visions coming back to her. "Schwarz-, Schwarz-and-ear-biter!" she squeaked, before clearing her throat. "(His wand!)"
"His wand?" repeated Hermione. "That's a surprise."
"Is it? I remember the old git being awfully sweet on her," noted Ginny. "Not as creepy as that healer, though."
"(You must take possession of the wand first, liebchen. It will be very valuable to the right collector.)"
"(I do -not- want to touch it.)"
"(Pick it up by the wrong end,)" advised Stanislaw. "(I will stop you from killing the goblin in your trance.)"
"(Will that, eh, hurt?)"
"(It does not have to.)"
That, thought Gabrielle, was not the reassurance she was looking for. She reached for the wand, then thought better of it and held the lid open with her other hand first. There was not supposed to be any magic left, but the edges looked sharp.
"Are you quite all right, Mister Unkspel?" asked the Headmistress. "You seem a bit unsteady. Perhaps another spot of tea?"
The wand felt as it had before - weighty, as it dragged around its history. There was, thankfully, no visions of carnage this time. Gabrielle looked up from the wand, wondering what she was to do with it. Unfortunately, she saw Gagnek first. Sort of saw, because Gabrielle could see another goblin there before her. One was dressed in the formal dress required of business, the other wore the leather tunic and trousers for battle. She could smell the smoke from the fires, but saw the office. There was a scent to the smoke that suggested more than just homes were burning. "Balmor of ze One-Eyed. Kotidete prik svoyak bog!" The wand spun in her hand.
Gabrielle thrust the wand forward and launched, well, something. She was not completely sure that it was her arm that had moved. The spell was deflected upwards, where it splintered a picture frame. Then her arm was seized. Had she overlooked another of the poisonous rebels? She spun, her raised leg connecting with the ambusher, who was unexpectedly solid. That left her off-balance; she fumbled for the spare wand in a pocket that only half-existed. The hand holding her wand was being crushed, but to lose the stick was to die. There was nothing for it, the wand would protect her. Mostly. "Fiendfy-"
Something splashed in her face, gagging her incantation. The interruption also made Gabrielle aware that her arm was painfully twisted, and that her hand was at its limit. She dropped the wand, and tried to escape from, from... Stanislaw?
"It appears that the vision is over. Gentlem- gentlefolk, please take your seats," said McGonagall sternly. Gabrielle saw that Stanislaw held not only her, but the elder wizard as well. Ron had hold of Monsieur Unkspel. Ginny held an empty teacup.
"What a nutter," laughed Ron.
"Honestly, which one?" asked Harry.
"(Very valuable.)"
"Selling the wand is, of course, your prerogative, but we are forming a museum of magic, of sorts. You could donate it." began Hermione.
"I will trade this for the wand, right now," declared Gagnek. He held a small rod of gleaming metal.
"Don't be daft. Goblins aren't allowed to use wands," advised Ron.
"What is that?" asked Ginny. "There's no way to start a fire with it, right?"
"That, is the most concentrated form of wealth the goblins have," answered Hermione.
"Then I should like a new frame," announced a distant voice. "A nice one, gilded, with embossings all around, sort of thing."
"Eh, okay?" Gabrielle covered her hand with her sleeve and bent to pick up the bequeathed wand. Could she really sell it? She quickly placed the wand on the desk because the furniture was beginning to look a lot like the rubble of a collapsed catacomb. She started to slide the wand over when she found her hand once more pinned.
"(Liebchen, goblins are very romantic creatures. The wand is worth a third of what he offers. When he calms, there will be regret, then a desire for vengeance,)" explained Stanislaw. "(Ask for a quarter of it, and a Badge of Klanovok Obsluzvaek.)"
"(Eh, what? You wanted five hundred galleons for that broken staff!)" Romantic? Goblins were grumpy.
"(He is offering twenty times that now in his haste. He will feel cheated, later.)"
Gabrielle frowned. Why did Stanislaw care more about not cheating this goblin than Herr Von Schnittwinkel? Well, reminded a second thought, he had only gotten four hundred galleons anyway. Which still seemed outrageous given the condition the staff had been in. The wand, it still worked and was all in one piece. She relayed the new terms to Monsieur Unkspel, adding, in a moment of brilliance, two ink pots worth of Gringott ink every year. Stanislaw had to help with the pronunciation of the badge part. She had never heard of such a thing.
Gagnek said nothing to the offer for a long while, which made Gabrielle wonder if he was insulted that Stanislaw did not value the wand as much as he did. "Eh, also, a pouch of, eh, Floo powder," she added.
"Don't forget a frame for my portrait. I shan't enjoy falling to the ground."
"Still with us Gaggy?" asked Ginny.
"I am trying to fathom this novel negotiation strategy, wizard," replied Gagnek.
See, thought Gabrielle, grumpy. "Witch."
"What?"
"You said wizard. She is a witch, even zhough she is like zat."
"I'm like what now?"
"Lending the wand to my new Department of Magical Antiquities is also an option, my dear. As word gets around, there will be more bidders. Naturally I would be able to take a personal interest in you, that is, in the situation," offered Hereward. He reached out this hand. For the wand, wondered Gabrielle, or for her hand? He would probably want to have nightcaps.
"That will not be necessary," declared Gagnek. "I accept your terms."
v - v - v - v - v
Agreeing to a trade for Von Schnittwinkel's wand was not as simple as exchanging one thing for the other. For one thing, Monsieur Unkspel did not have any Floo powder with him. For another, when he said that he would trade the lump of metal for the wand, what he meant was that he would transfer the equivalent amount in galleons later. There was no Badge of Klanky Slobs, or whatever, and no ink either even though he was using some right in front of her to create a thick sheaf of parchment that was a contract. That held Hermione's attention, and Professor Korbel's. Much time was spent calibrating various scales; the Headmistress had several different types, all of which did not quite agree with each other, let alone the Gringott device.
Gabrielle found it somewhat surprising that Ginny seemed to know the goblin, but then it was possible that the goblin worked with Bill and - what? Came round for tea? She also found it surprising that Stanislaw was not helping on the contract.
"(Goblins do not cheat with contracts. They merely enforce them as they are written, to the dismay of many wizards who think themselves clever,)" explained Stanislaw. At least, Gabrielle thought that was supposed to be an explanation. "(l came for the amulet. You have Seen?)"
"(Oh, eh, yes,)" replied Gabrielle. "(I, eh, did not think the way you addressed the package was funny. You should know this.)"
"(Odd. I did find that funny.)"
It was, thought Gabrielle, rude to not even pretend to be sorry. Which meant that Stanislaw had fully recovered from having his organs put back inside.
The problem with amulets was that they each had their own chain or cord to hang from. Gabrielle happened to be wearing four today. One was the stone from Nona, sempre, inside the black fabric pouch. The pouch was shared by the amulet that Stanislaw had sent, since it was so similar. Gabrielle also wore the amulet with the dried toad leg, which she normally did not but was hoping might help with her wayward toad issues. The final amulet was the one from her late grandpere. It had the smallest loop of thin cord, and, to be honest, was causing most of the tangling. Removing only one from around her neck was not possible, which was knowledge gained through experience. The black pouch slipped off as she tried.
Gabrielle set the tangle on the desk and once again found Stanislaw staying her hand. "(That is rude, if you did not know.)"
"(That other stone - where did you get it?)"
"(Nona gave it to me for protection, and, eh, to find me, I think.)"
Stanislaw sat back and sighed heavily. Gabrielle struggled to free the amulet he had sent free, which was only managed when Hermione stepped over to use her wand.
"(I would like to apologize for the way the package was addressed,)" said Stanislaw quietly.
"(Oh, eh, thank you.)" Once the other amulets were back around her neck and tucked beneath her robes, Gabrielle held the one sent out to him.
"(Keep it, liebchen.)"
"(Eh, what? Why? Is it not valuable? There was a vision.)"
"(It is very valuable, but unsellable.)"
"I regret to admit that I am not a prodigy with languages," began McGonagall. "Perhaps someone can provide a summary of this conversation?"
"I am beginning lessons this week," announced Hereward. He nodded toward Gabrielle, "I look forward to practicing on you."
"Oh, Merlin."
"Eh, Herr Sammlermacher sent zis amulet to see if zere would be a vision, but now he does not want it."
"Interesting. Does he give a reason? I presume that any curses have been lifted."
"Eh, it is, eh, very much like ze ozzer amulet I have."
"Oh, I see. Let us move on then."
"(I am to leave with nothing but the commission,)" sighed Stanislaw.
"(Eh, what?)"
"(Ten percent for finding a buyer.)"
"(Eh, what?! Finding - he was right there!)"
"(Negotiations...)"
"(You lowered the price.)"
"(Providing you with a better long-term deal.)"
"(Did I get ten percent?)"
"(Seven and a half, then,)" said Stanislaw with another sigh.
"The agreement is complete," announced Gagnek. He set the thick document before Gabrielle, who had to stand to see it as her footstool was too low.
"Eh, why is zere so much?"
"It goes into exhaustive detail about what you will be receiving," replied Hermione. "The first dozen pages describes exactly how much orichalcum is to be exchanged, and how the value is determined. Most of the rest has to do with the ink you requested. Gringott has very, er, forceful policies about their ink."
"I know zat," groused Gabrielle. "Zey sent zat Krang Earrot to -" The sound of a large bell ringing interrupted her complaint. "Eh, I zink ze hippogriff is awake."
v - v - v - v - v
Witherwings was awake, hungry, and in a much worse mood than before. Feeding him was no problem, as he was still in the Great Hall, and all it took for food to appear was for Gabrielle to suggest that they go look for some. She did not believe that the house-elves were afraid of Witherwings; she had seen one go tête-à-tête with an Abraxon. They were just afraid of the mess he would make in the kitchens.
The hippogriff's mood was not so much of a problem either. It was after curfew and the halls were deserted. The only living thing they met was Mrs. Norris, who hissed at them before disappearing. That was nearly a disaster. Gabrielle pretended to startle more than the hippogriff had, so she could be the one who was embarrassed. She suspected she was probably spoiling him.
For some reason, and second-thoughts doubted from the start, Gabrielle decided that she and an officially designated dangerous creature should check on Mags. That meant leading Witherwings up to Gryffindor tower, using her broom for several short flights. If she had remembered that a password was needed before starting off, then she would not have. Oddly, the portrait swung aside at her polite request. That then revealed a portal much smaller than she had expected. Certainly too small for the hippogriff, to whom she apologized. Witherwings might have been disappointed, but made the most of it by sticking his head through and screeching loudly.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle returned to the McGonagall's office because she assumed that she needed to sign the contract. She wondered why Herr Von Schnittwinkel could not have left her a simple locket holding, perhaps, a lock of his amazing-looking hair instead. That she would have accepted easily.
Once admitted, she found everyone gathered around a white marble bowl, with the exception of Hereward, who was sleeping. Was it the result of age, or had the Headmistress tired of him? Not asking seemed to be the safest course. Gabrielle sat down in Ginny's chair, since she was not using it. No one seemed to notice her arrival. They were discussing whether Krang Earrot was... shooting elk?
When there was a lull in the discussion, Gabrielle cleared her throat and announced that she was ready to sign the contract. And, not to criticize, if Gringott had simply told Krang the ink pot had been returned, then he would have stopped impersonating the Head Boy and left. Which would have prevented the attack on Saruchi, though she did not mention that.
Gabrielle was certain she had missed something, as her statement was met by either bemused stares or snickering, bordering on chortling.
"I can assure you that Krang Earrot does not represent Gringott," growled Gagnek. "What ink pot?"
"Eh..."
"Walked right into that one, didn't she?"
"Hush, Ron."
"The next question will be how she knew when this secret was even kept secret from McGonagall by herself," said Ginny. "That will be something."
"Well wizard?"
"Witch," corrected Gabrielle. "I am a proper witch."
"Even though she is like that," added Ginny. "Misdirection."
"Gringott London has been breached only twice in its storied history. The second incident resulted in the loss of forty-seven ink pots. The method of entry was singular. The Prophet of the time reported on a German auror working under the name Ms. Nubbies. I ask again, witch, what ink pot?"
"Eh, what? Zat was only made up!"
"You resemble the photo, are here with a German curse-breaker, and speak his language. You opened, in front of witnesses, a case sealed by curses, more thoroughly protected than the main doors, using means only theorized to explain the second breach."
"I do not speak his language! He, eh, he speaks mine! It is French!"
"Gagnek," began Harry. "Her sister is married to Bill Weasley. You've been to their house for tea."
The goblin looked directly at Gabrielle's right hand, and Gabrielle just knew that Fleur had been telling her guests her favorite stories. "Zat happened a long time ago, when I was a child."
The contract was signed quickly after that, allowing the abashed Gagnek to depart with the wand. Gabrielle could not help but feel a little cheated. She did not even get one pot of ink, nor even a pinch of Floo powder which she needed for tomorrow.
Hereward was then roused, and he launched into a speech about the importance of antiquities and how honored Hogwarts was to have them, or something. It was hard to follow because he would repeat part of the last sentence every time Gabrielle smiled, and she had noticed. The Headmistress noticed too, and had Gabrielle go and look for wand fluid in the inner office so he could finish.
Gabrielle found no wand fluid, because she was not stupid and it was not the first time she had heard the joke so she did not look for it. She did manage to search, out of curiosity, a dozen drawers out of the hundreds built into the wall. Each was much larger and deeper than their outward appearance. There did not seem to be any sort of organizational system, which greatly surprised Gabrielle. She did find a small, opened pouch of Floo powder in a drawer with several. She did not slip it into her robes or the handbag just because no one could see her. She would ask to borrow the gritty powder, and thus not be expelled.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle was trudging back to the warmth of the castle with Ginny, because she had been ordered by the insane McGonagall to accompany the elder Hereward on the path to the village of Hogsmeade. Why call it a path if wizards could not follow it by themselves? Ginny was not happy either, but it had been her own decision to be a chaperone. It was ridiculously cold as well. Hereward was at least good for a warming charm, for which his reward was a quick kiss on her held hand. Ginny harrumphed at that, but Gabrielle did not see anything wrong with it. Unless he also had a decrepit farm and was going to die soon. She wondered if she should have asked to read his palm.
While Gabrielle visited with the dire wolves, Ginny stood very still and recounted what Gabrielle had missed while attending to Witherwings, which was that Krang Earrot was not a doppelgänger at all but was the real name for Craig Torrae. He was half goblin on his father's side, though if he was not sent from Gringott then that made his behavior even harder to explain.
Gabrielle remembered the regulations auror, and how the Headmistress had denied any such knowledge to him. Ginny explained that McGonagall had removed certain pieces of information from her mind and stored them in a Pensieve. That made it so she did not have to lie, which gave the Headmistress terrible dyspepsia.
Mister Timtims was badly hurt, though the wolf tried not to show it at all. Prince Smarty, Gabrielle noticed, was not with the pack, and that probably meant that his challenge had been premature and not gone well. There was nothing to be done for either though. There was a bit more intrigue in that Mister Timtims seemed to have a new consort. Had his previous mate conspired with Prince Smarty?
"How much longer are you going to be? It's bloody cold out here," asked Ginny.
"Is it? I did not notice." That was a lie; while most of her was warm, Gabrielle's feet were blocks of ice. She only said it to tease the redhead after all that disapproval.
"You know, I pinched that bit of Floo powder."
"Eh, what?!"
"I wanted to see what you would do with it. McGonagall did say that the Floos at Hogwarts were off the network for security, but I wonder if there isn't one hidden away somewhere."
Gabrielle saw though Ginny's gambit, and did not answer. She probably knew about the portable Floo the twins had created, but if Ginny did not there was probably a reason for that. A second thought pointed out that, as far as McGonagall knew, only one person had needed the magical powder, and so there would be only one suspect when it was discovered missing. Even if Ginny did not give it to her, she was going to get in trouble! "Ginny, you must give zat back!"
"Well, I can't do that if we're dawdling out here, now can I?"
"Zis is not dawdling! And, you should know ze way back to ze castle."
"And leave you unprotected?"
"I have already said zat ze wolves are not going to eat us."
"Sure, but that's not all that's out here, right?"
There was no argument against that. As if to make the point, the pack all suddenly stood and faced one direction before trotting off in the opposite. Gabrielle could not see anything in the shadows, nor hear what the pack heard. "We, eh, should go. Eh, now, I zink."
"Don't you have your broom?" asked Ginny.
"Oh, eh, yes."
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle had not escaped with Ginny in time, but that had been fine as it had been Professor Hagrid that had emerged hailing them from the dark forest. He had been splattered with a thick yellow goo, so his visit with the neighbors had not gone well and he had needed to stomp some acromantulas. Ginny was happy to see him and risked an embrace. Then she asked if he had any Floo powder that Gabrielle could borrow, winking at Gabrielle. Hagrid was surprised to find that he did, and offered the exact same small bag that she had found in McGonagall's office. Gabrielle knew that trouble once-removed was still going to be trouble.
Anyway, she was finally alone in the Hufflepuff Common room. It was hard to be alone in Hufflepuff, but it was easier if one began working on class assignments late at night, in earnest. Her dorm-mates had waited for her return, as did a good number of Diggers. No one had gone to look for her, though, because Suki-chan had told them she was in McGonagall's office with Harry 'Potter-sama'. She had not mentioned the curse-breakers, the goblin, or Hereward.
Gabrielle pulled out the WanderFloo, and set it on the table in front of her. She took a substantial pinch of the purloined powder and sprinkled it onto the tiny hearth."Weasley Wonderful WanderFloo Number Four Privet Drive." She hoped that George would be the one to answer.
"Hullo? Is that you luv?"
Gabrielle's smile turned to a frown. It seemed to be George, but his image was so tiny. "Oui! You can, eh, move closer?"
"I didn't think this thing was connected." George disappeared and the tiny image spun crazily, showing his workshop, before settling down again. His face was no larger. "That's interesting. That is very interesting."
"I can barely see you," said Gabrielle, only a slight note of complaint in her voice. She did have a favor to ask.
"One charm at a time. This is the first time it has actually worked."
"Eh, what? It is not. I used ze WanderFloo once before. Zen I, eh, was out of Floo powder."
"I remember the explosion. Fred does too. But I have been messing about with this end."
Whatever George had done, Gabrielle was not enamored of it. His face was so small that she may as well be using a muggle tellyphone. She decided to change topics. "Suki-chan and I need to be in, eh, London tomorrow. You can drive us?"
"Hmm, I don't know, luv. Busy time in the shop and all, what with the holidays coming and all. It'll set Fred off," sighed George.
"Oh. Eh..."
"Really set Fred off."
"I, I see," choked out Gabrielle. It had never occurred to her that George would refuse. Because, diagnosed a second thought, she was an idiot.
"So of course I'll do it."
"Eh, what?"