A/N: If anyone knows Old Tupi, please let me know if the Brazilian wizarding school name works. Thanks for reading! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own this (and I also do not support JKR).
The following morning dawned bright and sunny. From what Elena could see out the arched windows she passed on her path to the Great Hall, it was a breezy day outside, the autumn air full of leaves, and she hoped it wasn't too cold. She had Herbology out in one of the greenhouses beside the castle for her first period.
After a quick breakfast with Charlotte and Lucy, during which Elena actively avoided making eye contact with Harry, the three parted ways—Charlotte had Econ and Lucy Muggle Studies. Elena crossed the massive entrance hall alone to take the heavy oak doors outside. She left the door ajar behind her for the group of third years that seemed to be coming out, likely for Care of Magical Creatures near the gamekeeper's hut, and trotted down the stone front steps.
It was cool out, she noted, but it wasn't bad at all. Elena even paused with one high-top in the dewy grass, the other still on the stone landing at the foot of the steps, to wriggle out of her crested pastel blue cardigan. She ensured her ribbon tie was still straight and checked the little buttons on the cuffs of her oxford before she turned to resume her walk to the greenhouses.
As Hogwarts was settled on something of a hill, Elena could see the gamekeeper's hut in the distance, past the Whomping Willow. Back on the left she could make out the enormous wooden oval of the Quidditch pitch; she walked to the right, toward the collection of greenhouses with their smudged glass windows. Around it all Elena could see the Forbidden Forest. For no reason she could discern, she felt a little frisson of foreboding when she looked at the rowans, Scots pines, and wych elms, rustling gently in the breeze.
She tried to ignore it and focused on the greenhouses. As she approached the second greenhouse, where her timetable had mentioned her Herbology class would take place, Elena spotted her friend Neville Longbottom outside it. He was inspecting a couple of the tall plants in the little square garden beside Greenhouse 2. "Hey, Neville," Elena called.
Neville glanced up and grinned when he saw her. He'd always been pale, just a little freckly, and his dark hair was constantly mussed. From the slope of his shoulders he seemed perfectly at ease out here. Elena had never seen him as comfortable anywhere else—he tended to look either discomfited or fearful, as if he expected Peeves, the castle poltergeist, to leap out and launch a sticky inkwell at him at any given second. "Hi, Elena," said Neville as she joined him. He straightened. "Are you in this class?"
"Yep," confirmed Elena, smiling politely back at him. "How was your summer?"
"Oh, the usual," said Neville. He stepped to the side and turned to stroll toward the greenhouse beside Elena. "My gran brought me out to the Highlands, though. It was to visit some old family friends, but I found some really interesting plant life while I was out there. Did you know that there's a natural cross between bilberry and kalmia shrubs? It's not edible, but an apothecary I met while I was out there said that when you grind it, it makes this pink paste you can use on open wounds."
As he spoke, increasingly energetic about the information as he continued, they entered the greenhouse. It was warm and nearly empty, the glass walls lined with potted plants, and Neville and Elena automatically continued down the right side of the long worktable at the center. "That's so cool," said Elena with sincerity. "Did you manage to get any?"
"No, but I made sure to record its location and get a good sketch of it," said Neville as they reached the far end of the table. He and Elena had been in the same Herbology classes for two years running, and as they'd basically been the only enthusiastic students in their classes, they'd bonded. They took their usual formation—Elena at the end, near the open greenhouse window that let the cool morning air flow in, and Neville beside her, close to where Professor Sprout always set up one of the water stations.
Neville nudged Elena's shoulder as she set her tote bag down on top of the wooden worktable, as the floor consisted of tightly packed earth. "What'd you do this summer?"
"Not much," said Elena lightly. "Mostly read and practiced making potions. But speaking of the Highlands—did you see any trailing azaleas?"
Neville nodded. "They're very pretty."
They continued to discuss the plant life of the Scottish Highlands—which was, of course, where they were now, though it would be impossible to find Hogwarts from outside the grounds and outside the village—as a few more students clattered into the greenhouse. As expected, it was mostly Hufflepuffs, and they bunched up together near the middle of the table, though Elena exchanged waves with Oliver Rivers. A couple more Ravenclaws came in and stayed at the front.
Elena had progressed past the Highlands to explain Brazilian red-cloaks when she glimpsed a familiar head of white-blond hair and stopped, startled. "What is it?" asked Neville, and he followed Elena's gaze. He must have spotted Draco Malfoy, too, because he sighed. "Great."
Draco seemed out of place, most of the other students studying him curiously as he surveyed the table situation. When his eyes landed on Elena and Neville at the end of the table, she realized an instant before he started moving what he was about to do. "At least he has no entourage," mumbled Neville.
"Agreed," said Elena in a low voice, as she had never been particularly fond of Crabbe or Goyle. They had a habit of following Draco around when he wasn't with Blaise. Elena had only seen all four of them together maybe twice—she guessed Blaise didn't like those two knuckleheads much, either.
Draco approached the end of the table. He'd paired his oxford with another straight tie and vest, and he nodded politely at Elena and Neville and set his messenger bag on the table as he stopped across from the former. "Morning."
Elena chanced a glance at Neville, who was blinking at Draco as if he'd seen a ghost. "Uh—hi," said Elena, taking it upon herself to speak for both of them. "What are you doing in this class?"
"Studying plants, I hope," said Draco dryly.
Elena laughed and Neville jumped a little. Draco focused on him for a second and Elena tried not to notice how the filtered greenhouse light played off his cheekbones and that jawline. "You alright?"
"...yeah?" guessed Neville. He looked at Elena, who lifted her shoulders, before looking back at Draco. "Uh. You?"
"Yeah, not bad, thanks," said Draco, and he started rummaging through his bag for, presumably, his textbook.
As he did, Elena and Neville glanced at each other. Neville's eyebrows rose, but Elena nodded and tilted her head toward Draco. Neville gave her a strange look and shook his head. Elena nodded more emphatically and Neville narrowed his eyes. Then his gaze flicked from Elena to Draco and back again and he arched an eyebrow, folding his arms.
It was Elena's turn to shake her head, but Neville just gave her a knowing glance. She felt her face heat up—her conclusion from that entire silent conversation was that Neville knew she thought Draco was hot, and he was absolutely judging. "Anyway," said Elena probably too forcefully, "about red-cloaks. I know they're mostly used in gardens as hedges, but apparently you can use the petals of the flowers in invisibility potions."
Despite himself Neville did seem more interested in the plant conversation than the silent one. He unfolded his arms. "Does that mean they can be used as a substitute for, say, amaranth?"
Elena gestured vaguely. "I'd say red-cloaks seem more powerful, but that might be because they're harder to obtain. If you're not at Ygûasuoka, anyway."
Ygûasuoka Ybykatua was a Brazilian wizarding school with a focus on herbalism. Back when Elena and Harry had received their first letters announcing their admittance to Hogwarts, Elena had begged her mother to send her to Ygûasuoka instead—they even had relatives in the nearest big city, as James' family was Brazilian. But Lily had insisted on keeping the twins together and closer to her. Elena had only been able to visit her cousins over a couple of summer holidays and had never seen the school. "D'you think the rarity of a plant makes it more potent?" asked Neville.
"I'm not sure," admitted Elena. She fiddled with her daisy-patterned Herbology notebook. "I read something this summer about how all plant-related magic goes back to the same source in the Earth. That author at least believed that unless some equal exchange is made for a plant, it won't work as well as you want it to."
Draco had been flipping through his textbook and pretending to ignore the conversation there was no way he couldn't hear, but he paused. Elena glanced at him and found him studying her, those gray eyes surprisingly serious. "What book was that?" he asked, his voice kept low. "Who was the author?"
Elena frowned. "Sorcha MacGill, I think. Why?"
"That sounds like—" Draco started, but he stopped again to look back at the entrance to the greenhouse, as if ensuring Professor Sprout hadn't arrived or the Hufflepuffs weren't listening. The only Hufflepuff close enough to hear them might have been Oliver, and he seemed distracted with his notebook. Draco still lowered his voice even more to lean back in and continue, "That sounds like nature magic."
Neville flinched, and Elena glanced at him, startled. "Nature magic is part of the Dark Arts," he hissed.
What? thought Elena, bewildered. How is nature Dark? She looked back and forth between the two boys. Neville was fidgeting and Draco was watching her with no trace of sarcasm. She supposed it made sense she hadn't heard of nature magic or its relation to the Dark Arts before—her mother was Muggleborn, whereas both Draco and Neville were purebloods, raised learning about magic.
She thought about red-cloaks and amaranths and all the things that might be taught at Ygûasuoka. "How could I find out more?" Elena asked. "Just out of curiosity."
"You shouldn't," said Neville sharply.
"I agree," said Draco, which further surprised both Neville and Elena. He focused on Elena. "Have you met Professor Moody?" He was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that had made that memorable entrance to the Great Hall the other night—Elena shook her head. She'd only heard vague rumors about him and didn't have DADA until the following morning. "He was an Auror in the 70s. He put away more Death Eaters than anyone else."
Death Eaters had supported the Dark Lord Voldemort that Harry had defeated when the twins had been one. Elena looked back at Neville for confirmation—Draco's family had been on Voldemort's side during the Wizarding War and Neville's had been on the opposite, with Elena's parents. "I've heard of him," confirmed Neville.
Elena blinked at him and looked at Draco again. Both boys were grim, and despite the warmth of the greenhouse, Elena felt an instinctive chill. "Okay," she said with a hint of a nervous laugh. "Don't piss him off. Got it."
"Don't draw his attention at all," corrected Draco.
Before Elena could do more than nod, Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse. The students all quieted down to listen as she started to lecture. Elena did her utmost to pay attention, but—now she was curious about nature magic and the Dark Arts. How is giving back to nature something Dark? Elena wondered. It didn't seem like it was Dark in that book. Maybe it depends on what you're giving back?
She had no idea. The Restricted Section is open to sixth and seventh years, she thought. It couldn't hurt to just have a look. Professor Moody wouldn't know she was looking for nature magic in particular if she just browsed through the Restricted Section. Of course it might be smarter to wait until she'd met Moody herself and assessed how dangerous he seemed.
With the vague plan made, Elena managed to listen to Sprout for the rest of class. When the bell echoed throughout the grounds to end the period, Draco snagged his bag and gathered his belongings without stowing them away before nodding at Elena and leaving. She watched him go for a second, sliding between Hufflepuffs and the few Ravenclaws at the front of the greenhouse, and when his white-blond hair had disappeared, Elena turned to push her own supplies into her tote bag.
"What the hell was that?" demanded Neville, slapping Elena's shoulder. She glanced at him, surprised. "Why was he being—nice?!"
Elena furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled her tote bag onto her shoulder. "I guess he's usually not?"
Neville leaned back to give her such a bewildered glance that Elena was almost tempted to laugh. "Of course not, he's mean! He spent all of third year bullying me!"
Elena winced. "That was three years ago."
"Sure, but he's never gotten better, it just tapered off," countered Neville. He took his bag in one hand and his textbook and notes in the other to turn and march up the long table toward the door. Most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws left ahead of them, chatting with each other, and Neville and Elena slowed to follow them. "You know," Neville mused, "he was nice to you. It was probably your influence. I bet he thinks you're pretty."
Elena tripped over a stool. "What?" She tugged at her plaid ribbon tie. "No he doesn't."
Neville shot her another knowing glance. "Yes, he does."
As they trailed after a couple of Hufflepuffs, out the greenhouse door and into the now refreshingly cool morning air, Elena tried to think. She hadn't focused too much on it, mostly because she was not about to have a crush on Harry's archnemesis and Pansy's ex-boyfriend, but—she did kind of get that sense from the interactions she'd had with Draco this year. He'd been unusually attentive and he'd caught her looking at him, which meant he'd looked back—
Elena released a breath and pushed one hand through her wavy dark hair. "Eh, I guess it doesn't really matter," decided Neville as they continued up the well-worn path in the grass, winding around the castle and toward the front steps. "I'm just glad it makes him tolerable."
"Uh—right," said Elena, as if none of these various recent revelations about Draco—that he was hot, available, sarcastic, and decent at Potions and possibly interested in Herbology—were at all alarming. She tried to focus on Neville as they ascended the steps toward the enormous carved wooden doors, through which fourth years were pouring. "What, um, class do you have next?"
As it turned out she and Neville had their next classes on opposite sides of the castle. The pair parted ways on one of the landings to take different staircases upward, and as soon as Elena was waiting behind a couple of third years, leaning against the carved wooden railing with one hand, she started thinking about Draco again. She had to admit—if he'd been Michael Corner or essentially anyone other than himself, she'd have a crush on him already. But was she prepared to break the Girl Code that much? She and Pansy had been friends since first year. A betrayal of that caliber—well, they'd never be able to salvage any sort of friendship, no matter if Pansy and Charlotte made up.
I need an unbiased opinion, Elena determined as she turned to take another staircase upward. She passed a bunch of confused first years on a landing. Maybe I could ask Sarah Jalali? She was the most laidback Ravenclaw Elena had ever met, and she knew even more people than Lucy by virtue of being impossible to dislike. Elena wouldn't be able to ask Sarah about it until they had French together the following afternoon, but she could hold off on a decision for that long.
She was distracted from the problem soon enough. When Elena arrived at her Political Science class, she saw the class consisted of Slytherins she vaguely knew, Lisa Turpin and her friends, and Blaise Zabini, who was alone at a two-seater table. Elena shrugged to herself and wended through the tables to reach him at the far right of the classroom, beside one of the bookshelves stuffed with aged philosophical texts. "Hey," she chirped when she reached him. He was holding a dogeared paperback with a blue cover and didn't look up. "Mind if I sit here?"
"Have at it," said Blaise, unconcerned.
Elena sat down and dug her supplies out of her tote bag. As she then waited a few minutes for Professor Ariss to come in from his office, she fiddled with her green gel pen rather than make small talk, as she was sure Blaise wouldn't welcome it. She somewhat curiously snuck a glance at the other Slytherins—it was Scarlett Lympsham, Adrian Pucey, and Theo Nott, as well as a seventh year Elena didn't know.
She'd progressed to studying the arched windows, through which she could see the blue sky, when Ariss strolled in to start the class. This lecture was easy to pay attention to—mostly because Elena was immediately smothered with a great deal of information on the construction of British wizarding society. It seemed kind of embarrassing, but she didn't know much of anything about how the Ministry for Magic was structured. I'm sure gonna find out, she thought as she scribbled notes during class.
Afterward she stopped by Professor Flitwick's classroom to discuss tutoring, and when she'd been given the scheduling form that would be due after the add-drop period ended, Elena strolled down to the Great Hall to spend the rest of her break on homework. She found Charlotte at the Ravenclaw Table.
The pair attempted to work on their assignments through lunch, during which Lucy joined them. When Charlotte left for Transfiguration and Lucy for Divination, Elena glanced toward the diamond-paned windows to find the sky still a crisp blue. I'll go outside, she decided. It'd be better than sitting alone in the Great Hall, at least.
Elena had to return to the Ravenclaw Tower first to find her Arithmancy book. When she walked back down to the common room, she spotted Terry Boot perched on a chair at one of the various polished wooden tables against the circular walls. He happened to glance up and caught her eye, and when Elena waved politely, Terry gestured for her to walk over.
She obliged. "Hi," said Elena when she reached him. He had two textbooks open on the table, with a roll of parchment and a navy inkwell. "What are you working on?"
"Transfiguration," said Terry. "And Care of Magical Creatures. But I wanted to ask—do you have Wizarding Lit later? I noticed we almost have the same timetable."
"Yep," confirmed Elena. She adjusted the straps of her tote bag on her shoulder. "Do you?" Terry nodded. Cool, thought Elena, because he was one of the smarter Ravenclaws in their class. It couldn't hurt to be able to ask him questions. She knew she already had plenty about Arithmancy.
"What are you doing now?" Terry asked.
"Just homework," said Elena. She pointed back toward the nearest windows, shining with afternoon sunlight. "It was really nice out this morning, so I'm going outside to do it. You can come if you want."
Terry glanced back down at his setup as he seemed to consider. "Sure," he decided aloud, and after he gathered his belongings the two left the Ravenclaw Tower together. They strolled down several flights of steps to the entrance hall. "Have you started Potions yet?" Terry asked when they reached the landing for the marble staircase—the only one that never moved.
Professor Slughorn had assigned them a quick little research assignment. Elena was sure it wouldn't take long—as soon as he'd mentioned it at the end of class the previous afternoon, just before they'd all escaped, she'd come up with what she'd write. "I'm still working on Ancient Runes."
"Hang on, you're in that, too?" said Terry with a laugh.
Elena furrowed her eyebrows. "Uh, yes?"
"Right, right, I think Michael said that," said Terry. For an instant Elena wasn't sure what the hell to think—how had she possibly come up in casual conversation? Had Michael been talking about her?! It doesn't matter! Elena thought sharply. He's taken! Not to mention Terry had continued speaking. "—have that a different period, but I think she's been assigning the same homework to all her sixth years. I did it last night." He gave a dramatic sigh. "Horrible."
Elena managed to laugh, though she was still trying not to think about Michael. "Tell me about it."
They reached the heavy double-doors outside and emerged into the somewhat warmer afternoon air. Elena moved to unbutton the cuffs of her sleeves and roll them up as she and Terry followed the worn path to the left, back around the side of the castle and past the Quidditch pitch, to where most students tended to hang out around the Black Lake. "I did do Arithmancy last night, too, though," Terry said as Elena automatically squinted back toward the Forest.
That was a successful distraction. "You did?" said Elena. She'd barely managed to finish History of Magic. That may have partially been because Lucy and Charlotte had been playing Exploding Snap with Padma Patil and Sue Li about a foot away from where Elena had been vaguely attempting to read her history book. "I'm impressed."
Terry batted a hand as if to wave away the compliment. "Anthony's brilliant at that stuff and he helped me out."
Ugh, Anthony. Elena rolled her jaw and half-glanced at Terry. Somehow, in the course of walking downstairs and outside, his already askew blue-and-bronze tie had been pushed over even more. Between it and his mop of curls it seemed deliberate. "He's not gonna be in Wizarding Lit, is he?"
"He is," said Terry, and Elena winced. He studied her for a second. "Wait, don't tell me—Charlotte's going to be in it, too?"
He'd read her expression surprisingly well. "Unfortunately."
"Merlin," said Terry with a sort of tired irritation that Elena understood on a spiritual level. "We'll have to keep them separated."
"Oh yeah," agreed Elena, and after a second she managed to change the subject to the fourth years splashing around in the shallows of the Black Lake. She and Terry wandered over to claim a spot beneath one of the branching elms not far from the lake to do their assignments in the cool breeze off the water.
He was able to help Elena with her Ancient Runes homework, but as he reportedly had something to do for Econ, she was on her own with Arithmancy. Elena didn't mind—she could ask around the common room that night to see if any seventh years could help.
The bell rang out across the grounds, and Terry and Elena started the trek back up the slope along the path. Elena had narrowly avoided stepping in an anthill when she heard a familiar voice call her name. "Hey! Elena!"
Here we go, thought Elena, already setting her jaw. She glanced around and found Harry jogging toward them from the direction of the gamekeeper's hut. He might have been coming from Care of Magical Creatures, but as he, Ron, and Hermione were somehow friends with the gamekeeper, she couldn't be sure.
If she hadn't already been annoyed with him she would have called back. As it was Elena gave him the vaguest possible wave of acknowledgment and quickened her pace. Terry kept up with her—he looked about as thrilled to see Harry as Elena. "If it isn't the surprise Potions genius himself."
Harry managed to meet them and turned to match his step with Elena's. His hair was a wreck and his shirt was only half-tucked in, and the knot of his traditional tie was close to coming undone. "Listen," he said as they continued toward the wide stone steps, several other students ahead of and behind them. "About Potions. I didn't mean to—"
"Ruin it for the rest of us?" remarked Terry.
Harry gave him a strange look, as if he either hadn't noticed he was there or hadn't even remembered he was in their Potions class. That irritated Elena further. "How the hell did you win, anyway?" she more demanded than asked. "Were you somehow practicing Potions in secret all summer?"
Harry flushed, tugging at the collar of his oxford. "I—kinda found instructions written in the book by whoever owned it before."
Elena stopped entirely to round on him. "You what?!" She didn't wait for an answer before stepping off the path and outright punching Harry in the shoulder, making him yelp and a few curious third years glance over in passing. "That's just cheating!"
"Yeah, that's not fair," Terry added as he moved over to stand with Elena.
"Look, I'm learning more from these notes than I ever learned in Snape's classes," returned Harry. His voice was starting to rise with defensiveness and if Elena hadn't already been so infuriated, she might have taken more notice of the other students nearby, glancing back to watch. "Potions is actually starting to make sense—"
"You never learned anything in Snape's classes because you were too busy throwing inkwells at Ron and talking back to pay any attention!" Elena retorted. She huffed. "And who the hell was the old owner, anyway? T. Nightshade?"
"I don't know," said Harry, lifting his shoulders. "All it says is it was owned by 'the Half-Blood Prince.' And I don't know who—"
"Nightshade is?" guessed Elena. At Harry's nod, Elena couldn't resist fairly shouting back, "Of course you wouldn't know who that is! Why would you know anything about a famous apothecary?! You don't even like Potions!"
Before Harry could do more than open his mouth, Elena turned, snagged Terry's sleeve, and marched back up toward the castle. Terry stayed with her and didn't say anything as they walked around other students who were moving too slowly to reach the stairs—and he only spoke when Elena had let go of him and they'd ascended the steps. "Should we report him?" he asked as they walked back through the oak doors and into the crowded entrance hall. "To Slughorn?"
Elena drew in a breath. The air inside the castle felt staler than that outside. "No," she decided somewhat impulsively. At Terry's bewildered glance, she explained, "Harry has been living a Felix Felicis life for as long as I can remember. Even if Slughorn takes the book, he'll get some other stupid advantage." Terry frowned, and Elena continued, "And I want to beat him."
"Who?" said Terry. "Your brother?"
"No, the Half-Blood Prince," said Elena in all sincerity. "I'm not gonna let some random book defacer do better than me in Potions. I just—have to practice more."
Terry sighed. "Well," he said with a glance back through the other students toward the doors, "you'll have to beat him for all of us, then."
"Don't worry," said Elena, with more determination than she thought she'd said anything. "I will."
And although she was still downright furious with her brother, soon Elena had to focus on different drama. She and Terry found Charlotte on one of the long, low-ceilinged halls on their walk to Wizarding Lit, just past a classroom in which Peeves was audibly smashing glass and cackling.
"Charlotte!" called Elena.
The blonde stopped to wait for Elena and Terry. "Hey," she answered with a wave. She half-glanced past them, presumably back at the open door to the classroom Peeves was wreaking havoc in—every student on the hall was giving it wide berth. When Elena and Terry were closer she asked, "What have you been up to?"
All three of them continued onward together, to take a right turn onto the appropriate hall. "We've been doing Ancient Runes," provided Elena. "He's a master at his craft."
Terry gave a sarcastic bow. "I can help you later, too, if you want," he said to Charlotte.
Charlotte side-eyed him. "No thanks," she said too coolly. Elena knew she'd always hated accepting any kind of assistance. At least, Elena noted, Terry didn't seem offended. "Have you had Professor Moody yet, Terry?"
Elena had almost forgotten her conversation with Neville and Draco that morning in Herbology, and she barely managed not to jump at the mention of the professor's name. "Not yet," said Terry. He and Charlotte seemed oblivious to Elena's immediate response. "Why? What have you been hearing?"
"He's apparently insane!" said Charlotte with far too much amusement. "He'll randomly shout 'Constant vigilance!' in the middle of class, and he's been performing Dark spells to show everyone what they are."
Elena furrowed her eyebrows. Was that legal? How was it fair for him to arrest Death Eaters for using Dark spells if he was casually showing them off to students? How did he even learn them?!
Terry had an entirely different reaction. "Really? I shouldn't say it, but that'll be cool. We'll be able to see how the spells really work, and we'll learn how to best defend ourselves. Not that I expect to have anyone to defend myself from."
Charlotte nudged Elena's shoulder. "Death Eaters, if your brother's to be believed."
"Death Eaters?" echoed Terry with confusion.
Elena sighed. "Harry thinks they're still at it," she explained shortly. To be fair to him, they had received death threats in the post from ex-Death Eaters or their family members, and their mother knew several prominent ex-Death Eaters at the Ministry for Magic. One of them was Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father.
"Oh," said Terry, startled.
"Yup," said Charlotte.
"Uh, no offense, Elena," said Terry with distaste, "but Harry's kind of a tosspot."
Charlotte snickered and Elena rolled her eyes. She didn't bother trying to say anything in her brother's favor this time.
The three reached the Wizarding Lit classroom in a few seconds. The instant they entered, Terry strode to the row nearest the chalkboard at the front of the class, where Anthony Goldstein had chosen a two-seater table. Elena vaguely looked around at their other classmates and saw they weren't unusual—Hermione Granger and Oliver Rivers were there.
Charlotte didn't seem to notice Anthony. Elena took the chance to choose a table closer to the back on the left side of the classroom, near one of the ceiling-high bookshelves packed with classic novels. As she pulled out one of the two wooden chairs, the one closest to the aisle, Charlotte stopped beside the table. She said, her voice already too loud, "Oh, for Merlin's sake," and flung her bag at the flagstone floor.
Shit, thought Elena with instant panic—she followed Charlotte's gaze, past classmates already turning to watch, and found Anthony turning around in his chair. He and Charlotte were already glowering at each other. "What the hell are you doing in this class?" Anthony demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing!" snapped Charlotte.
"I'm going into literary research," said Anthony, as if the answer was obvious and Charlotte was an idiot. It kind of was obvious, but—Elena managed a quick glance at Terry, who looked toward her at the same time, wide-eyed. Their other classmates were all openly staring now, too. "What's your excuse?"
Charlotte narrowed her eyes and braced her hands on her hips. She'd always been an absolute master of the cold death glare, and just watching her use it against someone else made Elena nervous. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"C'mon, mate," said Terry, hesitantly touching Anthony's shoulder. "Drop it."
"She started it!"
Terry shot Elena another look and she took the hint to snag Charlotte's arm, despite the pure rage emanating from the other girl. "Hey," said Elena, and when Charlotte didn't even look down at her, she tugged on her sleeve. "Char. Everyone here knows he's not worth it."
For a second Charlotte didn't respond—then she yanked her arm away from Elena and sat down hard in her chosen chair. She continued to glare at Anthony, even as Terry turned him back around and she pulled her textbook out of her bag to slam it onto the table. "He's disgusting."
She was still speaking loudly enough for her voice to carry across the room. "Charlotte," said Elena, a little more sharply than she'd intended.
"What?" Charlotte demanded. She rounded on Elena with annoyance, her face flushed with anger. "Why the hell aren't you backing me up?"
And, as if she knew Elena couldn't provide a satisfactory answer, she turned away again, flipping open her textbook hard enough that the cover smacked against the table. Elena watched warily, still almost expecting the death glare to be turned on her. I wish Lucy was here, thought Elena. She'd never been the best at dealing with Charlotte's mood swings.
At least the situation didn't worsen. Professor Cairns arrived and took the register, and although Charlotte glared at the back of Anthony's head, he didn't turn around again and she didn't say anything. Charlotte proceeded not to speak at all until she, Elena, and Lucy were all at dinner together that evening, and even then she only gave choppy, one-word answers.
Whatever, thought Elena as she focused on her worn copy of To the Lighthouse. Charlotte was entitled, she supposed.
