Another long week…
Happy Easter to anyone who celebrates and enjoy the weekend!
Chapter Eleven
The next month passed in a blur of homework, stress, and prefect duties for Vanessa. She really should have taken people more seriously when they advised that fifth-year was a nightmare of a year. George had told her this more than once, and she'd found it concerning — considering he didn't particularly care all that much about his coursework — but had somehow managed to still not properly consider exactly what that meant.
She was drowning in coursework at this point, barely able to find the time to complete it all, and, while Fred had lost his bet that she would have a breakdown within the first month, she was almost always overstimulated and on edge. Transfiguration had become a nightmare for her — Vanishing spells might have been easy for her before, but partial vanishing was proving entirely too difficult. She had at least three essays to complete at any given time, a star chart to complete every night to show the movement of the stars through space, and at least a chapter of Ancient Runes to translate (sometimes more than this because, apparently, there were a great number of photographs of Runes found in the real world that could lend insight into their understanding of the text). Not even Potions was all that comforting at this point, and not just because she wanted to hit Snape any time she saw him. The length of the essays required for the class was beginning to fray on her nerves, although her potion-making skills had improved since the first week. Even Hagrid was adding to her growing workload by making her come down to his hut every other day to observe Bowtruckles and entice them to befriend them — they were notoriously shy creatures, and generally friendly. Generally being the operative term because one of the evenings, she'd been frustrated with her Bowtruckle's lack of response to her and had thrown a pebble at the tree it housed itself in and it had taken this as a threat to its home, running down the tree and trying to gouge her eyes out with its long, sharp fingers. She'd given up hastily that evening — both out of frustration and fear of nearly losing her eyes, but also because she'd stressed the poor creature out and she was clearly not going to make any progress after that.
Worse, when she'd had to include this information in her write-up for Hagrid, he had been entirely too pleased that she'd discovered the danger of harming a creature's home. Nevermind the fact that a pebble was not much harm to a massive tree to begin with. It had been a long lecture from Hagrid about the importance of an animal's habitat and why humans should not encroach on an animal's territory for their own selfish reasons. And, while she agreed under normal circumstances, it had only irritated her because she had thrown a pebble, not tried to cut down the forest.
Defense Against the Dark Arts had become even more of a nightmare for her. Not enough that she or Tori had left class early again, an action with which the Slytherins, lead by none other than Adelaide Murton, had taken upon themselves to make fun of them for, but enough that Nessa was starting to get a more solid understanding of why she didn't like Moody. His techniques, while they might have sufficed in Auror training in the real world, were borderline psychotic to use on children who were in no immediate danger.
He'd taken to casting the Imperius Curse on each and every one of them in turn. The fact that it was illegal to cast on another person did not seem to hold sway for him. Instead, when someone had pointed this out to him, he'd advised that Dumbledore wanted them taught how to fight it off and casting the spell on them was the only way to do so. Nessa had always known Dumbledore was a bit loopy, but this, somehow, felt like a step further than that.
Not to mention that there was an odd sort of…enjoyment…that Moody appeared to have when he was casting the spell. The things they were told to do under the spell were only mildly embarrassing — imitating a dog, skipping every third step, singing the national anthem while standing on one foot — but there was something about the smile on Moody's face that made her uncomfortable. Fighting off the spell was entirely difficult and horribly exhausting. None of them had so far managed it, although both Tori and Nessa had come very close in their last class. Which may have been more relieving except Moody had insisted that they attempt over and over again, so that the class could see how hard they were fighting the spell's effects — "Look at the eyes, that's where you'll see it!"
Every time they left the class, Nessa was bruised or injured — she'd cracked her head against the wall once when he'd told her to act like a chicken. She'd been somewhere in the process of bending her legs and using her arms as wings when she'd realized how ridiculous she must have looked and forced herself to stop. An action which had happened so abruptly that she'd stumbled and, since her hands were still behind her back, had nothing to stop herself from face-planting into the wall. She'd had an egg on her head for days after, refusing entirely to go back to see Madam Pomfrey again with some other ridiculous injury from class. She'd instead taken to learning healing spells and potions in what little free time she had left. She was apparently very adept at them, and found the entire thing cathartic somehow. This research had also allowed her to see if cursed scars typically caused serious issues, but she'd found nothing entirely of note. Aside from phantom pains when someone lost a limb or pain after the injury was received, there was nothing that implied any reason why her brother would have had such issues while they'd been home for the summer.
She had avoided writing to Remus until she had a more solid answer than this, and she was not entirely looking forward to admitting that they did have some reason to be concerned. It was entirely unexplainable to her. The fact that neither Remus — or Sirius, who had arrived somewhere close and was 'lying low' — could think of anything themselves was not comforting.
She was running out of reasons not to write back to him, however, so she'd taken her current leisure time to write and send a response to him.
Remus,
I hope you're feeling better! I hate knowing that you can't get Wolfsbane as often. I'm sending some with this letter. And since we're telling people off before they actually do anything — don't bother telling me not to waste my time brewing it. I actually like potions and you need it. We'll leave it at that.
Tori is fine — for the most part. I don't think she knows how she wants to respond to Padfoot at the moment, but she seems worried to have him so close. Harry is not happy about it either. He complained to me about it for hours the other day — and tried to lie and tell Padfoot that he "imagined" his scar hurting. I severely hope that my father was a better liar when he was breaking the rules, because Harry and I are hopeless.
Anyway, I'm sure Tori will find a way to respond to him eventually, but they're still searching her mail, so if he writes while we're here, he should be very careful about his wording. She'll throw a fit if he ends up getting himself hurt. And I do not use 'throwing a fit' lightly — or jokingly — where Victoria is concerned.
I'm grateful to Padfoot — and you, of course — for being so concerned about Harry. He's been told to speak with Dumbledore if his scar hurts again, though I'm seriously hoping that it does not end up being necessary. I've spent some time in the library trying to research curse scars, but whatever Harry is experiencing doesn't appear to be all that common. And I'm not sure what he told Sirius, but the night his scar hurt, he also had a dream about Wormtail and Voldemort. I'm not sure what strange whispers you've been hearing, but I severely hope that it has nothing to do with either of those two. At any rate, I don't think we'd be overreacting to be worried about him in this case. Harry wouldn't agree, but his judgment has always been questionable.
We were at the World Cup, but I don't think Harry is horribly concerned about what happened there. It wasn't in the papers, but the person who conjured it was a Ministry employee's house-elf. She took Harry's wand to do it, although none of us really know why. Personally, I don't think I much believe she did it, but no one else seems to agree and I don't have any proof other than my gut instinct.
Fifth-year is proving to be much worse than I could have imagined, and I think all of my professors may have gone mad with the amount of homework I've been given. Speaking of mad…what do you know of Mad-Eye Moody? He's teaching DADA this year and he's a bit…eccentric, for lack of a better word.
I've also been made prefect, which has not been helping my workload much and I have career counseling with McGonagall later next week. I'll be grateful to be free of O.W.L.s and I'm not particularly looking forward to N.E.W.T.s, truth be told, but I think I'm finally managing to adapt to the workload. I'll let you know if that's really true in a few months.
If you have any advice on being a prefect when your friends are a band of idiots, please let me know. I think McGonagall may have hit her head or something. Fred and George are currently trying to find a way to trick the judge into letting them into the tournament even though they aren't of age, and it's driving me mad.
Perpetually exhausted and half-insane,
Nessa
She read and re-read the letter several times before deciding that it was mostly acceptable, if a bit rambling. She had about twenty minutes before she had to meet Cedric in the library for tutoring, so she had to sprint to the Owlery, carrying a large container of Wolfsbane potion, the letter, and her book bag and then sprint back. Even with her regular running schedule, there was a stitch in her side by the time she arrived at their usual table.
Cedric looked up at her with raised eyebrows as she stopped in front of him.
"Er — are the Weasley twins chasing you with something?"
She rolled her eyes and put her hand on the stitch in her side, praying severely that it would abate soon.
"No," she panted. "They don't do that anymore. I had to send a letter before I met you. I don't know why I didn't just wait until after."
He pursed his lips, clearly trying not to laugh at her, but she pretended she didn't notice. Sliding into the seat next to him, she pulled out her Transfiguration and Potions texts, a roll of parchment, her ink, and the orange quill that Tori had sent her last summer.
"Right, so what are you learning again?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she looked up at him in irritation — she had a load of homework to be doing, and she had no idea why that question was so difficult to answer — but paused when she realized he was looking at her hesitantly, as if he were nervous about something.
"What? What's wrong?" she said, straightening and looking behind her nervously.
"No, nothing, it's just…I wanted to talk to you before we started," he said seriously.
She eyed him warily and leaned back in her seat to put distance between them. Given the way their relationship had started — by which she meant, given the way that she'd confused their friendship for attraction and ended up confusing him about her feelings in turn — she couldn't help but be a little nervous about what he was looking at her like that for.
She wasn't entirely stupid either because he didn't appear to be as over her as she was certain he was trying to pretend to be. And with her and George bouncing between being fine when he wasn't scheming and arguing when he was, she wasn't entirely sure that their relationship status was all that clear.
Maybe attempting to be friends with Cedric at this point was confusing in itself, but she had no idea how she was supposed to be handling the situation now, really.
"About last year," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "When I — er — got upset about you and Weasley…I just, uh, wanted to apologize, you know."
She relaxed immediately and tried to hide the response, so it wouldn't offend him somehow.
"Oh," she said. "Uh, no, it's fine, really. I mean, it wasn't, but it — you know what I mean."
This was ridiculous, really. Given everything they'd been through at this point, she'd sort of expected that there was nothing else that could be so awkward between them. Clearly, her social skills had not really gotten much better over the years.
"Right," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Well, I just — we didn't really talk about it before we left last year. I wrote ten letters over the summer probably, but it felt like the kind of thing that I should say in person, considering…"
She cleared her throat. Truthfully, she'd tried to forget about the entire thing altogether because it was horribly awkward to think about. Their last encounter had been nothing short of explosive. From the fact that he'd gotten jealous of her relationship with George and kissed her in a desperate attempt to have her choose him instead to the argument they'd gotten in in the corridor where he'd implied that George had told her to stop speaking with him.
It was easier to pretend it hadn't happened, honestly, because she had no idea what else she could say to him at this point. Somehow, though, she didn't think admitting that she was trying to act like it hadn't happened would be of comfort to him.
Especially considering he'd spent an inordinate amount of time with her lately when she and George were back to arguing. An action that irritated George a great deal of the time.
"Cedric, really, it's fine, I promise," she said instead, her voice more timid than she'd have preferred. "It — I mean, it wasn't like I was entirely forthcoming, and it —" She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "It really wasn't just your fault, is all. And I mean, we're okay now…aren't we?"
She was not at all comforted by the amount of hesitation that followed this question, as he looked at her, but he nodded and smiled anyway.
"Yeah, we're okay," he said, his smile looking a little sad. The look of it made her chest ache a little. "And you're happy?"
It was an odd question, she felt like. Maybe she was overthinking it and making it more awkward, but it felt...hopeful somehow. Like he was hoping she'd say she wasn't.
"Yeah, I am," she said.
There was a flicker of disappointment on his face, but he recovered quickly.
"Good. That's…good," he said, forcing a grin on his face. She stared at him for a while, wondering if this would be a good time to decide that this likely wasn't going to be a good idea, but he spoke before she could say anything. "Right, so anyway…we're learning about Felix Felicis."
She cleared her throat and nodded, using the silence that followed to flip through her book to that section and read over the basics of it. She wasn't altogether familiar with the potion itself, but she knew what it was for and she was familiar with the ingredients, so she started there, while she tried to read up on the specifics. It was a particularly difficult potion to brew and took a total of six months to complete, so it was hardly something that Cedric would have to brew in class. Something she told him would be a relief, considering it was particular and specific, and resulted in complications even for some skilled potion-makers. Brewing it for too little time made it entirely useless, but too long made it fetid, resulting in the drinker going through wild misadventures rather than bouts of good luck. It also tended to be incredibly addictive and, was, therefore, not advisable to brew altogether.
By the time they'd finished with his portion, he moved to helping her with her Transfiguration, which was her least favorite part of these sessions, really. She always had George go over it with her afterward — he had a particular skill of explaining things to her in a way she understood and, while she wouldn't say so to Cedric, was also more adept at the class than he was — but Cedric helped with the base knowledge and, truthfully, she could use as much help as she could get. And vanishment, even partial vanishment, was a skill worth knowing in the real world. As opposed to turning a hedgehog into a pincushion or a goblet into a rat.
"I hate this class," she huffed finally after attempting to vanish the top half of the goblet in front of her. "I mean, really, what does it have to be so — bloody — difficult — for?"
Cedric laughed — half in amusement, half in alarm — because she punctuated each word with a vicious stab of her wand. He leaned back a little to avoid being hit with it and reached out a hand to stop the movement entirely.
"Before you take my eye out," he said, only half-joking. "You're thinking too much about it —"
"You sound like George," she muttered petulantly. "You both understand that thinking is what I am good at, yes?"
Cedric hid his grin with a fist.
"I can't speak for Weasley, but I am aware, yes," he said with a raised eyebrow. "It doesn't change the facts though, gorgeous. Do you think this hard at Potions? Or Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"No," she said defensively. "Those make sense to me. This is just a — a — a bunch of foolish wand-waving and silly incantations." Cedric eyed her for a long moment before bursting into laughter. "What? What is so funny?"
"I'm sorry," he said, still laughing. "No, I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just — well, that's what Snape told us in our first year, wasn't it? There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class."
Nessa glared at him.
"I don't think I like you today," she said simply.
He grinned at her again, clearly trying to avoid another laughing fit.
"Well, unfortunately for you, you're stuck with me now," he said. "Besides, you've got time to practice. It's only September. Exams aren't until May."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered. "I don't see you eyes deep in homework. I've half a mind to drop out and make a run for it."
"It's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," he agreed. "But you'll be just fine. N.E.W.T.s will be much worse."
She gave him an incredulous look.
"If that's supposed to be an attempt at comfort, it's horrible," she said seriously and he rolled his eyes with a grin.
"You'll do just fine, Nessa," he said again. "Once this is over, I'll make fun of you all of next year for being so worried about it."
"How sweet," she said sarcastically. "I'll be sure to make fun of you when you fail your Potions exam."
Cedric grinned at her lopsidedly.
"Dad says I don't have to take exams if I'm chosen as Hogwarts Champion," he said with a shrug. "So, as sweet as that is, I'm hoping to get out of it entirely."
Nessa looked at him for a long moment at these words. They'd been spending more time together as of late when she was avoiding the twins after another spat — she'd sat with him at mealtimes on a few occasions, as opposed to sitting with Gryffindor; he'd been scheduled on a few prefect patrols with her to help teach her what they were supposed to be looking for; and he'd forced her down to the Quidditch pitch for another flying lesson, which had been just as anxiety-inducing as the last, but minus the kiss.
On none of those instances, had they discussed his decision to enter the tournament. It had never come up — she'd refused to explain why she was upset with George because she had a strong feeling that if she did, George would not be too happy about it, and she'd been too self-involved to ask him about it. She felt bad about that now, honestly.
"So you're really going to enter then?" she said timidly.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Well, yeah," he said, as if this were obvious. "I'm of age and I think I could win."
It took a great deal of effort on her part not to roll her eyes at this. Maybe it was a thing with men — winning. Nevermind the fact that it was barbaric and dangerous and not worth the risk, as far as she was concerned.
"You want to enter just because you think you could win?" she said.
"I want to enter because it's a once in a lifetime experience," he corrected with a raised brow. "And, no offense, but it would be nice for another House to get some credit around here. Not that I don't love hearing about how Gryffindors are so brave and daring, but some of us have those qualities too. Huffelpuff deserves some attention."
She conceded that this was likely the truth. Hufflepuff tended to be the joke of the school, for reasons that Nessa didn't entirely understand. If she hadn't been placed in Gryffindor, she'd have loved to be in Hufflepuff. They were such honest, loyal people that she hardly understood what reason people had to judge them for.
"I understand that," she conceded. "And I agree with you, so don't look at me like that. I'm not doubting your bravery or your skill. I just —"
He waited a moment when she paused, searching for the right words to explain how she felt about the entire thing. When she didn't immediately find the words, a slow grin spread across his face and he pointed at her accusingly.
"You're worried about me, aren't you?" he said, sounding somewhere between flattered and teasing. "You've been thinking about that death toll they've been talking about and you're worried I'll hurt myself. Lose a limb, maybe. Ruin my pretty face. Is that what it is?"
She huffed at him and gave him a deadpan look.
"Don't be so arrogant, you stupid git," she said, rolling her eyes when his grin widened. "It has nothing to do with your pretty face or any of your limbs. If you're willing to risk that, then who am I to stop you?"
He smirked at her.
"I don't believe you," he said smugly. "You've already given yourself away. Just admit it — you care about me. VANESSA POTTER CARES ABOUT ME!"
"Are you mad?" she said, laughing despite the panic she felt when everyone in the library turned to look at them when he announced it to the rest of the library. Madam Pince gave the two of them a disapproving look that she pretended she didn't see. "Stop that! You're going to get us in trouble!"
"Pince is always in a bad mood," he said dismissively, but gave the woman an apologetic wave anyway.
"But, yes, since you're going to be such a prat about it," she said in mock-irritation. "I am worried about you. You're my friend, aren't you? I hardly think it's odd that I don't want to see you have your arm bitten off by a chimaera or God knows what else."
"I'll be fine, Potter," he said, still grinning, and still far too nonchalant about the entire thing. "I'm a fairly decent wizard, you know."
She rolled her eyes.
"Why does everyone think that I doubt that?" she muttered to herself. "You're more than fairly decent, but that's hardly the point. There's a death toll."
"Well, I'm afraid to tell you that you won't be getting rid of me so easily," he said casually, standing and pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Besides, if I get in, I suppose — since you're just so concerned about me — that you'll have to help me with the tasks, won't you?"
He looked entirely too happy about the prospect of this, but she avoided pointing this out and rolled her eyes instead.
"Fine," she said, still clearly not happy about the idea of him entering, but accepting that it was a decision she could not make for him. "But don't come crying to me when I can't look at you anymore after you lose a limb."
Not much had changed in her life by the time September turned to October. The leaves had begun to turn from green to red, orange, and yellow, and the temperature dropped enough that she was now wearing light jackets and sweatshirts when she wasn't in class.
Her teachers had not lightened their load on any of them, and one student had already been forced to take a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey. Truthfully, Vanessa had no idea how she was still managing to control the massive block of anxiety she felt in her stomach every morning. It was getting worse and worse by the day, but at least she wouldn't be the first of them to break down — she'd sort of expected she might have been, but her incessant planning had been paying off in the last few weeks.
She and the twins had paused in their incessant arguing, but only because they'd stopped huddling in the corner with Lee, whispering about their plans to enter. They'd asked McGonagall who the impartial judge would be, but she'd merely told George to shut up and get back to transfiguring his raccoon. Nessa had had to use her enormous Ancient Rune textbook to hide her laughter at this because McGonagall really did not pull punches, especially with the twins, who drove her batty three times a day. Tori gave her a hard look, so she was fairly certain she hadn't done well in hiding her reaction, but she hadn't started another argument, so she hardly cared if they'd noticed, really.
The twins, however, were acting very oddly. Not even Tori could pinpoint what exactly was going on with them, and both of them were certain it had nothing to do with the Triwizard Tournament. For one thing, they'd been oddly huddling together over a single sheet of parchment away from other students. An oddity in itself because Fred and George tended to be in the thick of things on a majority of occasions, and were often surrounded by a large group of students, unless they were with her and Tori. For another, they looked uncharacteristically serious about whatever it was they were doing, and they did not include Lee Jordan on any of the occasions that they'd seen them whispering to each other. Which both she and Tori assumed could not be a sign that they were working on anything related to the joke shop, causing trouble, or entering the tournament, as they would likely have included him in the fun.
They were, oddly, sitting off to the side, away from other students when Tori and Nessa joined them for breakfast on that Wednesday morning.
"No — that sounds like we're accusing him. Got to be careful…it could have been a mistake —" George was saying.
"I suppose," Fred muttered back. "There was a lot of gold flying about —"
"What are you two talking about?" Tori said, finally irritated by the lack of knowledge she had on the subject.
The two of them immediately stopped talking and slid the parchment Fred was scribbling on back into one of their bags. Nessa found this very odd, personally. The only time they'd done that recently was when they were discussing how best to brew their Ageing Potion or who should be checking on it, as it took a few weeks to brew. But whatever they were talking about clearly had nothing to do with that if the snippets of conversation she'd heard were any indication.
"Why?" Fred said snarkily, giving Nessa a dark look. "Are you going to confiscate it?"
Nessa rolled her eyes at him.
"I wasn't even the one who asked, so stop being such a crybaby," she said back.
"Alright, the three of you need to knock it off!" Tori said loudly, slamming her goblet onto the table and sending pumpkin juice flying everywhere. "This is getting ridiculous. It's been three weeks and if the three of you don't decide if you're going to be civil or argue, I'm going to hex the whole lot of you. It's giving me whiplash, for fuck's sake." And then she pointed at Fred and George with a hard finger. "And I don't know what the problem is with the two of you, but if you talk to her like that again, I'll rip your tongues out of your mouth so I can get some peace for once. She already told you why she didn't want you to enter and it has nothing to do with her being a prefect. So either grow the hell up or do the world a favor, and stop talking at all."
"Why aren't you telling her to back off of us?" Fred said indignantly.
Tori glared at him.
"Fine," she snapped at him and then turned to Nessa and smiled sweetly, her voice sickly sweet as she said, "Nessa, please stop worrying about Fred and George being murdered in the tournament. They have their heads so far up their arses that they don't deserve your concern." Tori turned back to Fred with the same smile still plastered on her face and said, "There. Happy?"
Nessa bit her lip to keep from laughing at the gaping looks on the twins' faces.
"What — no, we aren't happy!" Fred exclaimed. "That — that — you just ripped us a new one and that's all you have to say to her?"
"Fred, I have had it up to here with your egos," Tori said. "Do you think I have time to listen to the two of you complain all day about how your best friend — your girlfriend —" she directed this at George instead, who cleared his throat awkwardly, "doesn't support you in entering the tournament? Because I don't! I have three essays, a star chart, Hagrid's stupid creature study, a detention with Snape this weekend, and another night of reading how to fight off the Imperius Curse before Moody gives me another broken kneecap! I don't care about the stupid tournament! I don't think you're going to trick the judge! I don't care about your stupid feelings anymore. They're stupid. Just because the two of you got only three O.W.L.s doesn't mean I want to follow in your footsteps. You're driving me mad!"
Nessa made brief, alarmed eye contact with Fred before reaching forward and pouring Tori a goblet of water, pulled her Calming Draught from her bag, and added a drop of it, and handed the glass to Tori.
"Drink this," she said, wrapping her fingers around the stem of the glass. Tori opened her mouth to argue, but Nessa cut her off. "Much as I appreciate your support — and agree with you — you're scaring people."
Tori muttered angrily to herself, glaring at a group of first-years that were looking at her in surprise a few seats down, and drank the whole glass. She slammed it down again on the table and went back to eating her breakfast, glaring at the twins, who were unusually focused on their bacon.
"Nessa! There you are!"
Nessa looked up to see Hermione rushing toward her, looking crazed and excited.
"Er — are you alright, Hermione?" she said cautiously as the younger girl took a seat next to her.
"Oh, yes, of course," she said dismissively. "I've just finished and I wanted to show you!"
She held open a box that was filled with about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.
"I figured you'd be supportive, you know, because you're always so vocal about the poor treatment of elves and —"
"Okay, wait, Hermione, back up," she said seriously. "What is S.P.E.W.? I've never heard of it?"
"I've only just started it," Hermione said briskly. "It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."
"Am I awake?" Tori asked rhetorically from behind her, and Nessa pursed her lips to keep from laughing when Hermione glared at her in response.
"Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now. I mean, it's barbaric!"
"Is there a question somewhere in here, Hermione?" Nessa asked when the younger Gryffindor just stared at her. "I'm still confused."
"Oh! Right, sorry," she said. "Well, our short term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented. So, anyway, we can't do any of that without more members, of course. So, I was thinking two Sickles to join — that buys a badge — and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. To get the word out, you know."
Nessa stared at her for a moment, blinking to try to understand everything that she'd just said to her and still trying to figure out exactly what Hermione was asking of her. The twins were looking at the younger girl as if she'd spoken French, and Tori looked torn between laughing and asking her to go to the hospital wing for a head check.
"Uh, yeah, sure, Hermione," Nessa said eventually when the words finally registered in her head. She reached into her bag and dug around for two Sickles and handed them over. "That sounds great."
"Ir does?" Tori said doubtfully from beside her.
Nessa rolled her eyes at her.
"Well, someone's got to do something, haven't they?" she said, taking the badge from a beaming Hermione. "It certainly isn't you lot."
"Open your ears, Nessa," Tori said slowly. "They. Are. Happy."
"That's because they're brainwashed!" Hermione said heatedly. "They don't know any differently!"
"Save your breath, Hermione," Tori said, holding up her hand. "I'm not joining."
When Hermione looked at the twins, both of them denied immediately and emphatically.
"What do you see in him?" Hermione said to Nessa, pointing at George, who puffed up indignantly. Nessa hid her laugh behind a cough.
"He's a work in progress," she replied dryly, causing Fred to choke on his pumpkin juice, and Tori to snigger at George's eye roll.
"Well, we need more members," Hermione said seriously. "Can you ask Cedric?"
"Cedric?" Nessa said with raised brows. "I don't think he really believes in that sort of thing either —"
"Yes, but he fancies you, doesn't he?"
Nessa reared back in surprise at this observation.
"I — what? What difference does that make?"
"I heard him talking about it to his friend," Hermione said, waving a hand vaguely. "That one who's always saying stupid things about other people — he really doesn't like you, by the way —"
"Devin, yes," Nessa said with an eye roll. "The feeling is mutual."
"Right, well, I couldn't convince Cedric to join, but maybe you could, you know, seeing as he likes you and everything."
Nessa seriously could not decide if this was her idea of a joke or not. She gave a startled look to Tori, who was shaking with silent laughter.
"I'm dating George."
"I know that."
"Do you?" Nessa said doubtfully.
"Everyone knows," Hermione said with an eye roll. "Between you two arguing and him constantly looking at you when you aren't looking, it's hard not to. I heard some girls in the loo saying they hope the two of you break up soon."
"Well, next time, write their names down, and I'll slip them a Ton-Tongue Toffee," Nessa said sweetly. George chuckled and gave her an appreciative glance that she pretended not to see.
"We don't have any of those left, actually," Fred interrupted, smirking at her. "Mum threw them all away —"
"I have them in my trunk," Nessa said with an eye roll and a wave of her hand.
"What?" the twins exclaimed in unison.
"Hermione, I'll ask Cedric, but I'm not manipulating him into joining. That's cruel," Nessa said, ignoring them completely.
"I'm not saying to manipulate him," she said defensively. "I'm just saying if you ask and tell him that you've joined, he might just say yes this time."
"I doubt it, but fine," Nessa said with an exasperated look at a still highly amused Tori. She pinned the badge to her bag and gave Hermione an expectant look. "Is there anything else?"
Hermione beamed at her and shot up from her seat.
"Nope, that's all," Hermione said happily. "Thanks, Nessa! Just bring the Sickles to me and I'll give you Cedric's badge."
Nessa waited for Hermione to disappear again before shooting Tori an alarmed look.
"Why does she just assume that he's going to join?"
"I don't know, but I'm thinking that you aren't the crazy one about house-elves anymore," Tori replied, taking a bite of her cereal.
"What do you mean you have them in your trunk?"
Nessa gave the twins an irritated look. They were both looking at her, half-annoyed and half-awed at her earlier statement.
"It means I have them in my trunk," she said slowly. "Exactly what I said."
"Okay, but how?" George said.
"And why didn't you give them back?" Fred said indignantly.
"You two stormed off and she wasn't looking, so I summoned them from the trash can before she noticed," Nessa said, as if this were obvious. "And I would have given them back, but the two of you have been such prats since we got back, I decided you didn't need them right away."
Not entirely true.
She'd been planning on giving them back once they'd gotten back from the World Cup, so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't find out they'd gotten them back and used them at the game. But then she'd been checking on her and George every fifteen seconds and it seemed like a bad idea to give them back when she was watching them like a hawk. By the time they'd gotten back to school, the fighting had started, of course, so then she had decided not to give them back because they were being prats.
"You summoned them," Fred said, his voice dripping with disbelief.
"Am I not speaking English or something?" Nessa asked Tori in irritation. Tori laughed and rolled her eyes. "Much as I'd enjoy to continue this conversation, I have my career meeting with Mcgonagall —"
"Wait, we need those back!" Fred said hotly.
"And you'll get them back," Nessa said. "I'm not keeping them. Well, most of them."
"Most of them?" George said, raising an eyebrow. "What does that mean, most of them?"
"We expect payment if you use our products, you know," Fred said smugly.
"Consider me dealing with your piss poor attitude as payment enough."
Tori, who had just been in the middle of drinking what was left of the milk from her cereal, choked at this and was sent into a coughing fit.
"Nessa!"
"Oh for God's sake," Nessa said in irritation as Tyler came striding toward her with purpose. She was going to be late and why did everyone want to talk to her all of a sudden? "Can you make this quick, Tyler? I have a meeting with McGonagall in five minutes."
"Right," he said, straightening his already straight Head Boy badge and eyeing Fred, George, and Tori sharply. The three of them merely smirked at him. "Well, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be here at the end of the month —"
"They will?" George said, straightening immediately. "When?"
"Do you know when the champions are being chosen?" Fred said at the same time.
Nessa gave the two of them a sharp look before focusing back on Tyler, who seemed alarmed by their sudden interest.
"Don't answer that," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "The delegations are arriving…"
"Yes, right, the delegations," he said, focusing again with a shake of his head. "The teachers have asked us to help decorate the castle, so that we can make a good impression. I've paired you with McLaggen and Diggory — I figure McLaggen could use some more — er — modeling."
Nessa snorted, but refrained from commenting on this. McLaggen needed far more than modeling in her opinion, but it was hardly her place to tell him how to do his job.
"Anyway, you'll be helping Snape in the dungeons —"
"Snape?" she interrupted abruptly. "Why Snape? I'm not helping Snape. I will pay you to give me anyone else."
Tyler stared at her in surprise.
"Snape made it clear that he wouldn't accept anyone helping to decorate his dungeons unless it was you," he said, looking apologetic.
Nessa, meanwhile, was simply enraged. Snape had asked her to help with some of his potion brewing — which she had helped with in the past — and inventory of his personal stores — which she had also helped with in the past — and she had denied each time. She was not entirely forthcoming with him in classes either, not answering questions unless he chose her deliberately and keeping her face cold when she was forced to make eye contact with him.
Truthfully, she was acting like a child, but every letter Remus sent her, enraged her toward her potions professor even more. She'd always known he was vindictive, sure — she was not ignorant, no matter how much she tried to find a way to understand his behavior. But vindictive to the point that he'd have let an innocent man lose his soul? And then be so upset that he didn't, that he lost his friend his job instead?
Beyond her, really.
And, of course, she knew that he trusted her around his classroom and ingredients more than he did anyone else, so that part probably wasn't a lie, but she was not stupid enough to believe that he wasn't doing this intentionally.
"I'm sorry, Nessa," Tyler said sheepishly. "I thought the two of you were on — er — good terms. As good of terms as anyone can be with Snape, I suppose."
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"It's fine," she said, sounding the exact opposite. "It's one night. Just…when is it?"
"They're arriving on the 30th. It's a Friday, so you, McLaggen, and Diggory can work out with Snape when it's best to meet to get everything sorted on Thursday night. Don't worry about your patrol that evening. Filch is handling that."
"Fantastic," she muttered. "I've really got to go, but I'll work it out with them."
She was racing for McGonagall's office before he — or any of her friends — could speak any further. She was fairly certain she heard the twins pestering the older boy about the tournament the moment she'd turned away, but she pretended, for her sanity, that she didn't.
"Sorry, Professor," she said when she arrived, trying to control her breathing enough that the older woman wouldn't notice she'd been sprinting. "I didn't mean to be late —"
"No matter, Potter," she said briskly, her eyes focusing on her shrewdly in the way that always made Nessa feel thoroughly intimidated. How Fred and George could stand being lectured by her so often was truly beyond her. "Have a seat, if you please."
It didn't sound like a choice, really, but she sat anyway, still trying desperately to keep herself from panting horribly as if she'd just run a marathon.
"This meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into sixth and seventh years," McGonagall said, shuffling the many pamphlets that littered her desk. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?"
Nessa had thought of little else in the last few weeks. She'd read and re-read the pamphlets that McGonagall currently had in front of her until her head had hurt. She eyed the lime green one she'd spent the most time reading.
"A Healer," she said confidently.
Truly, she didn't know why it hadn't hit her immediately. She liked reading Healing texts — as worried as she'd been about Ginny two years ago, she'd not found it a chore at all trying to figure out what her symptoms could be pointing to when the Chamber had been open; nor had it really been at all boring for her when she'd been doing the same for her brother with his scar or the voice he'd been hearing in the walls.
And she'd spent her entire life caring for other people — her brother, Tori, the twins. Even Bill, Charlie, and Percy at the World Cup. She wasn't entirely sure she would know what to do with herself if she wasn't helping other people. She was a mother hen and always had been. An annoying trait under a lot of circumstances, but necessary for a Healer. Not to mention it would be a fast-paced environment, which helped with her constantly racing mind, and there would never be a day that was exactly the same.
And if it saved her from the politics of the Ministry, that was just a bonus.
"You need top grades for that," McGonagall said immediately, pulling out the lime green leaflet that Nessa had been eyeing. "They ask for a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s, and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations' grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at St. Mungo's. It's a difficult career path, Potter; they only take the best."
She severely hoped it would be a difficult career path — people's lives were at stake in their hands. The thought of that somehow exhilarated her and terrified her — an odd sort of adrenaline rush.
"That being said, you'll want to know what courses you should take, I suppose," McGonagall said. "There are specific specialties within the field, of course, but most of that will come with the schooling that you go through outside of Hogwarts. I would advise getting as much exposure as possible to the full variety of skills you might need before you choose a specialty. You'll want to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course, as it is often that patients will be coming after spell mishaps. Charms would be useful in this area, as well. Potions, of course, for obvious reasons, I'm sure — poisonings and antidotes and the like. Herbology is also important in this regard — you'll find that not everyone is aware of what plants can be a danger to grow and often are injured by caring for them improperly. The properties of these plants can also be used in remedies as well, so always good to have a full understanding of those —"
"And Transfiguration, I assume?" Nessa said dejectedly.
There was a flicker of a smile that appeared on McGonagall's face at this.
"Yes, Potter, Transfiguration," she said. "Healers frequently need to Untransfigure patients in their work. And I ought to tell you now that I do not accept students into my N.E.W.T. classes unless they have achieved 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level. I'd say that you typically average at an 'Acceptable', although on the lower end of that, for full transparency. You'll need to put in a good amount of work before exams to stand a chance of continuing into next year."
Nessa had expected this, of course, but it stressed her out to hear it regardless.
"As for your other classes, most of your professors will take you at 'Exceeds Expectations' — Charms, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. You appear to be anywhere between 'Exceeds Expectations' and 'Outstanding' in all three of those subjects in the last four years, so I daresay you'll be fine for those with continued hard work. Professor Snape, however, refuses to take students who get anything other than 'Outstanding' in their O.W.L.s."
"Not a problem," Nessa said immediately, waving a dismissive hand.
This earned her another flicker of a smile.
"Indeed," she remarked. "You have earned an 'Outstanding' in Potions since your first year here and Professor Snape seems to believe you have a real gift for the subject. In fact, you are the only one of my students with which he does not lecture me about your ineptitude and general lack of ambition." She eyed her over her glasses for a long moment before adding, "Between you and I, I thank you for sparing me that nuisance."
Nessa pursed her lips to keep from laughing at this. McGonagall and Snape got along fine, she supposed, but he seemed the sort of person most people tended to avoid.
"Now, with all that to say, you really only need to shore up on Transfiguration, so you've got a strong chance of succeeding in the field. Should you need additional assistance, Mr. Weasley — being George Weasley, of course — is rather adept at the subject. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you. Although, I daresay he lacks a certain seriousness, but you seem adept at dealing with him. Should that not be an acceptable choice for you, however, I can get you a list of students who would be able to further help you with the subject," McGonagall said. "I would also recommend — though it is not required — that you continue with Care of Magical Creatures, if you have the time to do so. Injuries from Magical Creatures is a specialty within the field. Not necessary, of course, but it may set you apart from the rest of your peers, should you continue. Any questions, Potter?"
"Yes," she said, straightening in curiosity. "You said there are character and aptitude tests?"
"Correct," she said. "You'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well under pressure and so forth, perseverance and dedication, because Healer training can take anywhere from an additional three to five years, depending on your specialty. They also like to get a feel for your interpersonal skills. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to put in the work, you'll want to reconsider."
Nessa nodded and bit her lip in consideration.
"Er — sort of an odd question, maybe," she said hesitantly. "But is there anything that I can do now — other than continuing Care of Magical Creatures, I mean — that would set me apart from other applicants? Growing up with Muggles, I'm not altogether as familiar with wizard ailments as others. Does Madam Pomfrey ever, uh, mentor anyone?"
Professor McGonagall appeared mildly surprised by this question, leaning back in her chair and pursing her lips in thought. She eyed Nessa over her spectacles for a long moment, an action which normally made her feel rather uncomfortable, but she got the feeling that this was more consideration than judgment on her part.
"No one has ever asked me that before," she said shrewdly. "I have not seen Poppy mentor anyone, no, but —" She paused again, narrowing her eyes on her. "If you're serious about this, I can, of course, speak with her to see if she might be interested. Given the tournament taking place this year, she might be open to making an exception. I should note that, should she agree, the expectations for your other courses and your prefect duties shall remain as they are. You would need to manage your time wisely, Miss Potter —"
"Understood," Nessa said hastily before McGonagall could convince herself to rescind the offer of speaking to the hospital matron. "It's not a problem."
McGonagall eyed her for a moment longer as if trying to get a read on her dedication before nodding.
"Alright," she said. "I'll speak with Poppy and let you know what she decides. Any other questions?"
"No, Professor."
"You're dismissed, then."
I know that adding career advice at the beginning of the year is not canon compliant. I suppose it's FanFiction for a reason, but I genuinely do not understand the thought process of giving career advice — that pertains to what classes should be taken for the rest of your school career, anyway — at the end of the year. It makes more sense to me to have that conversation at the beginning of the year, so that students know what classes they need to prepare for before their O.W.L.s. For more than two months anyway.
Also, a Healer! I am way too proud of her for this decision and I do not know why. The hints about this were very subtle prior to this, honestly, so no worries if it surprised you. It will be a bigger deal later on, for probably obvious reasons.
Up next: Nessa's birthday (i.e. Nessa/George time :))