VI

ENGELBRECHT, ERHART, EXNER AND ELMER BELL

The year passed with just a tiny amount of trouble—that is, inside that tiny magical bubble that was Hogwarts. Katie was just now learning how to pronounce Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Engelbrecht's name when the man announced his resignation. At least that year's professor was not so insane and had left before whatever incantation managed to always kick them out at the end of the year.

It was quite difficult now to steer both Leanne and the Cod away from the mess that had began in the Hogwarts Express—Millicent, Derwent and Vincent just couldn't quit; Katie would even appreciate their grit if it were not for her obvious disdain towards them.

And it seemed Leanne might have just found her vocation, coming under the mad fin of the Cod to research topics in Transfiguration, the odd charm, some questionable duel motions and a lot of useless potions. It wasn't a hobby like Quidditch but it was great fun, and Katie even learned by herself how to stun—and to turn her wand into a light gun!

Katie missed her fast racing broom, but while she could not yet get hers to the school, learning how to make things go boom and how to curse Derwent to drool with a wave of her wand on command was cool.

They shared far too many adventures that year, but that's not want you want to hear, is it?

I know what tags you selected—fret not, dear reader, I know what is expected. Bear with me for a bit; I think you will quite like it.

All in all, her first year in Hogwarts was the bee's knees (to quote that scruff fifth-year from Hufflepuff) and they passed with ease—they had the grades to prove, (and to improve, according to Leanne). Where the Cod was slow, Leanne was a pro, and Katie was not so bad herself, though she did tend to ignore her bookshelf more times than she should—though, in Charms above all, she was pretty good. Better even than that girl, Rosewood, who'd apparently made a snuffbox disappear for good.

Oh, and Katie had made a mortal enemy, though there might be some slight, tiny, wittle exaggeration on her part—after all, it wouldn't be very smart to alienate the Professor of Transfiguration.

Katie knew that she was on thin ice with the professor, and that she was mighty nice not being so severe with that thing at the beginning of the year. But thrice—not twice—cursing those snake jerks that were all smirks and boasting after roasting darling Rosie Coutlin from Hufflepuff was absolutely sure enough to land them in a mess. And—I can't stress this too much—the Cod answering yes to every question she had, had her just a tad bit mad.

"Shut up, Cod!"

Leanne's outburst had not done them any favour. And despite not answering anymore, the Cod couldn't help but nod, at everything Katie and Leanne had not an answer for.

Prof McGonnagall let out a small hum before lightly rolling her thumb on a quill. She saw small Leanne almost threatening to spill and stared at the trio with a small smile for a while before she reprimanded them.

"Detentions, to all of you. What good intentions you may have had, Mr Loweland, I expect you to keep yourself at hand and be in your best behaviour—you will all learn that people don't always need a saviour. There is a fine line between defending a friend—which I must commend—and escalating an argument to its violent end. In the future, try not to be so … intense against any offence."

"But, Professor, you don't understand, they were—"

"I'm quite aware of the kind of slur they were bandying about, and what they did to Miss Coutlin's hair. Professor Snape and Professor Sprout are setting them square; they will not spout any more of that."

She rounded on the fake Weasley.

"And you, Miss Beasley—I almost can't recognize the girl I gave that Hogwarts letter! You should know better than to get into that muddle. At first you're in a puddle, but then they drag you down; and then, slowly, dirt is your hands and you begin to drown."

Et cetera, et cetera.

Then came the time for Katie's chewing. And she knew that something horrible was brewing behind those stern eyes. She tried to disguise her anxiety for it seemed her notoriety within the school hadn't passed over Prof. McGonagall's surview.

"What do you think of that new Nimbus broom, Miss Bell?"

Katie's mouth hanged open. She would not dare presume, but she would not dwell too much on that, too. She went on a beautiful and frankly impressive explanation, with cheerfulness and elation about that new broom company. The professor listened to all with rapt attention, but then had the gall to make quite an insinuation:

"You'd like to try for the Chaser position next year, I gather? Hmm, to be on the team would require my permission," she said eyeing the girl and walking her towards the door. "Keep your friends out of trouble—of that I want to hear no more."

The professor opened the door, sending those two dorks sprawling on the floor.

"And what if—"

Leanne shut Cod's big trap, but that yap was out of that lousy snout.

"If you all fail to comply, perhaps just issuing detentions would not be enough. Miss Bell likes to fly, Miss Beasley likes her special library pass, Mr Loweland likes … well."

"Well, I just love—" Katie quickly shut his mouth.

"Thank you, Miss Bell. I' don't want to imagine what was that. So, stop any and all spat you have with those Slytherin students, or I will have to force my hand—and Merlin knows I can't stand that cup not being with my lions anymore. So: tread carefully you all," she said while closing the door.

Katie swayed on the spot, her heart a little sore. Did she just implied what Katie had thought? Would she not let her fly, just to make them stop bickering with those bullies? She didn't know Professor McGonagall was that sly.

Katie could've almost swore. 'What an incredible and frankly manipulating little, binty w—'

Gryffindor was trounced by Ravenclaw; but if the Snitch didn't exist, they might have even pulled a draw. Those new Chasers, Spinnet and Johnson were great! Fabry, a seventh-year, was not so bad, too, but he couldn't keep up with them: and it was because of his weight.

Alicia and Angelina were like two small jets of red light—the other one seemed always ready for a fight. The girls were as fast as a Japanese seeker, the other chaser was as fast as a Samoan beater.

And while they closed the formation, Katie could just see the glaring fault, they needed someone worth their salt to take on the center-left airway—someone that could outmanoeuvre and move around their walls of a counterpart—Flint, Davies and that Hufflepuff guy, Erhart … or something.

And she knew the person that would fit that position quite well—it was none other than our precious and brave little Katie Bell.

She would not let any Slytherin goon take her out of this so soon. She was the missing piece needed to grease Gryffindor's Quidditch machine—something that they would have never seen.

The beginnings were there, and I dare to say that Katie wasn't just being arrogant—she was actually very fair. They needed someone fast and smart to dart and to blast behind their defence , to break their offence and have a nice arm to shoot.

But even so, without a good Seeker it was all moot. She saw Gryffindor's Exner diving for it, closer, closer and—suddenly the stadium went mute; there was a loud crack—Katie held her breath …

Meh, he would live through that smack.

Leanne winced, The Cod laughed, Katie shook her head and felt a pool of dread in her stomach seeing the Seeker in blue passing them in a corkscrew and finally catching it.

He then made a rude gesture towards their section. Leanne blushed, The Cod covered his ears, drowning both the cheers and lil' Katie.

In retrospection, it was good that he had not flied closer to them, because—at that moment—Katie Bell was a tremendously irate witch.

"Get back here, you dingler! You minging son of a—"

The end of the year came soon enough, but boy, not punching those Slytherins … it was tough! Them winning all the cups seemed—to them—not enough.

Leanne was keeping a very firm hook around The Cod, lest he free himself and bend their faces crook. She was fuming, too, but she would not let them screw them.

Katie only slipped once, and it was enough for that dunce Rosier to shake her.

"So noble, so bold—it's almost unbelievable that she's a relative of the Gazecold."

Katie was confused, Leanne was furious, The Cod was curious. Leanne let him be while she proclaimed to Katie that it was all nothing but spurious gossip. The Cod didn't even dealt his damage this time, because he was dumbfounded by the descriptions of the crime that Leanne related to them. She took them to the library to see the scary accounts and the high body counts. In small letters there was written:

'Elmer Bell, Order of Merlin, Fourth Class; contested status. Imperiused by Grus Slughorn. Responsible for breaking the spell and giving his life to save Lord Malloy Hawthorn.'

Katie's head was spinning as she clammily got her hands on old newspapers, her heart sinking in a cold void, with a terrible, gripping, twisting feeling of surprise.

"[…] with vitreous eyes, and a horrifyingly cold gaze, that did not seemed to faze even with the screams of terror. Claire Clark nee Bell and her two unborn children were found stark white and moveless under the Dark Mark. The Bell family reaffirmed they're allied to the Ministry and called for justice for those who died on the fratricide. They put a price of […]"

Katie could not stand it anymore. There in the next page, already at an advanced age, was someone giving an interview that she would have given anything for, but that was sporting quite a foul scowl, with tears streaming down his grieving face—her own Taid, who had died only a few weeks back, her ol' Grandpa Jack.

"Katie, are you alright?" The Cod asked.

"Alright?" She croaked. "Erm, yes, quite."

The Cod and Leanne looked at one another with worry, and suddenly Katie began to run from them in a hurry.

Katie saw reflected in her eyes on the mirror of her bedroom a novel kind of emotion. Like a cauldron full of potion, her eyes swirled as she tried to make sense of the world.

Her family never liked to talk about the war. It was still a matter most sore to her parents, especially. Aunt Claire … She'd heard about her, but never about her children. She had the same Bell hair, and the same grey eyes that Katie and her father had. Her other grandpapa called it the colour of the skies—and he was about right for where he lived, way up there in the highlands.

She had seen her picture once or twice—a week, that is. Just from her smiles in it, she seemed very nice. She was like a Katie grown, something that her father loved to say, calling her his sister's clone—with a longing on his face and a sadness that ever seemed out of place on such a jokey bloke.

The words 'unborn children' swam at the forefront of her mind. She couldn't believe that someone could be so unkind to do something like that. The 'Gazecold', they called him, that killed relentlessly without remorse or pity, young or old, family or not, merciless—on the spot. He had the same eyes as hers—but where she saw reflected the yearning for vast skies, in his there were only cries and beggings, lies and disguises.

She wondered if that last repentance act had even an inkling of fact. Her parents certainly never mentioned him.

But then, that was something rather grim.

But it was something that she had to know. She had to know about Aunt Claire and … Uncle Elmer.

She had to know what was truly there.

It was a tough conversation with her parents. And whatever fraught placation she expected from it, she would have never got. She never liked seeing her gentle father cry, but she had to understand: why?

Why had it happened? Why did Uncle Elmer snap? And if he had not, how had he gotten himself into that trap?

More than anything, what troubled her the most was the doubt: had Uncle Elmer really gone all out? Had he seen what he had done or had he just blackout? Had he any measure of control or had he just watched it all unroll?

Her father—her gentle, great father would never know. He would somehow just carry a hole on his heart until the end, never to mend. And so would Katie now.

But it had come to an end, at the expense of much, of Claire Clark, of her son, of her daughter. It had come with Harry Potter and his heroic survival at Godric's Hollow in that fateful night.

"Or perhaps with the work of his brave parents that had joined the fight," said Katie's mother.

Once when she was very little she saw a picture of Lily and James Potter and got quite mad at her father, thinking she was not his daughter. It took some minutes to explain that she, in fact, was practically himself very short and in a cute dress, and that her distress was quite unfounded.

It had astounded Katie to see how much her mother and Lily Potter looked alike. They were both muggleborns, so little Katie thought they could even be related! It hadn't ocurred to the little tyke that wizards were quite isolated, and that there were hundreds of muggleborns out there, somewhere.

"She was going to call them John and Jane," her father said with great pain.

And this time Katie cried. Perhaps it was because she had no siblings or small cousins, but the thought of that tragedy left her very bleary-eyed. And deep down she feared for Uncle Elmer. Was he just a broken soul, fallen ill, or had he just been cursed to kill: to satisfy a deranged man's thrill?

Katie would never know.

A few days later, Leanne and The Cod visited her on her birthday and she had quite a ton of fun. They had discussed Elmer Bell and Aunt Claire, they had shared their doubts and fears, they had taken their brooms to the air, they had taken long walks and swam around the pier—Katie shared with them many smiles and many a tear.

But she felt quite ready to take on the world, with her family at her side, and with her friends on her hide. They were flying over a hill looking at the tide when suddenly came a high-pitched scream from her side.

It was The Cod, and he had apparently fell off his broom on his backside. Leanne doubled over laughing and soon joined the boy. They began a mock fight and Katie laughed at the dorks. She soon jumped on them, laughing with joy.

And soon, in a pleasant afternoon, they were aboard Hogwarts Express again.

"Yes, here I came!" Said Harry at my side.

"What?" I metafictionally exclaimed, surprised at his appearance, wide-eyed and quite struck. "What in the flying f—"

Notes:

"Dingler": idiot, stupid

"Minging": disgusting

Thank you for reading. I appreciate any and all feedback.