NEWTs and the end of the year approach, and the strain is starting to show on the oldest students in Hufflepuff House as well as those all over Hogwarts. Eliza Marlowe has been seen very little around the common room in the past few weeks – she’s mainly been in the Restricted Section of the library, or buried up in the dormitories. But today, the Head Girl seems to have just given up, or given out. She is sprawled sideways in one of the large comfortable armchairs in the common room, her long limbs strewn over the arms and back, and her head draped back over one padded arm. A pile of books is on the floor next to her, knocked over in a sideways tilt, like a row of dominos that has been knocked down, and Eliza appears to be ignoring their presence completely.

Climbing carefully through the portrait hole, Olivia has her nose stuck in a book, one that appears to be a new one. The girl appears to be so enthralled in it that she does not, in fact, look where she’s going. This causes a dangerous situation, and given the pile of books on the floor, does not bode well. It is only moments before she comes up to it and loses her balance as she walks into the pile. Her own book goes flying across the room and slides across the floor, while Olivia throws her hands out, in an attempt to break her fall. “Ooof!” is all she says, on hands and knees as she detangles herself Eliza’s books and tries to get herself upright again. “Oh, no…”

“What?” Righting herself in a pinwheeling spin of long arms and legs, Eliza springs into alertness again at the sudden sound of the crash, and her mouth opens in surprise and horror as she sees the younger girl sprawled on the ground. “Oh, bollocks!” Eliza exclaims – and then catches herself, hastily backtracking with “Oh, bother! Sorry! Baxtor, are you all right?” Despite the fatigue she had been showing a moment before, Eliza vaults up to her feet at once, and bends swiftly down to help Olivia up. “All my fault,” she declares, putting her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “Shouldn’t have left my things out like that.”

“I’m alright,” Olivia tells her, but still looks down, holding the bottom of her skirt. “My skirt tore,” she comments. And, indeed, there is a horizontal rip in her skirt, about four inches long. “No, no, Miss Eliza, I should’ve watched where I was going. It’s just the book is so good.” She doesn’t seem concerned where her book has gone, though, as her eyes do not move from the tear in her skirt. It almost seems that tears are welling up in her eyes as she stands stock-still, merely staring at the torn garment.

“What?” Eliza says again, blinking down at the younger girl in worried confusion. “No, Baxtor, it’s all right,” she protests, searching Olivia’s increasingly distraught expression for clues as to the cause of her distress. “Completely my fault. Shouldn’t have left those where people could trip over them. Don’t worry! Who isn’t distracted by books these days?” Eliza‘s laugh is just a little too hearty, as she struggles to counteract Olivia’s tears and her own stressed weariness. “Not hurt, are you?” is her next attempt, as she peers more closely at the younger girl.

“No, I’m not hurt,” she reiterates and reaches up and wipes a tear away before it has a chance to fall. “It’s just…” She seems to hesitate a moment. “My skirt.” Olivia holds up the skirt a little more, causing some snickers from a group of girls nearby, to whom she glares. “It must have ripped when I fell.” The girl looks up at Eliza, looking as if this is possibly the biggest tragedy that could befall her at this moment in time. “I don’t know any way to fix it. I haven’t learned those charms well enough yet.” She pauses. “Last time I tried, my swatch broke into pieces like porcelain.”

“Oh, is that all?” Relief is Eliza‘s first reaction, and a wider, truer smile spreads across her face – but then she catches sight of Olivia’s stricken expression, and worry returns, making her own expression serious again. “Look. If that’s all you’re worried about, I can help with a Reparo or two,” she offers, reaching out to give the younger girl a gentle, reassuring thump on the shoulder. “Is it…a favorite of yours?” Eliza ventures. She gives Olivia another searching look, faintly confused as she probes for clues to the cause of her housemate’s extreme reaction.

“Well, er…” Olivia comments, and clearly doesn’t know how to answer this. “I like all my clothes,” she answers honestly, looking at Eliza with a perplexed expression on her face, wiping her eyes with the other hand. “I just try so hard to keep them clean and neat and I don’t get new ones very often and this I got for Christmas from my grandmum and…” Olivia trails off, looking down at the rip and then pausing. “Can you really fix it so that it doesn’t show the rip anymore?” The girl bites her lip and runs one hand along the rip, holding it out with one hand.

There is still a decided aura of confusion coming from the Head Girl, with her straggling ponytail, and slightly tattered brown Puddlemere United jersey showing at the collar of her unbuttoned robes. But Eliza gives Olivia a smile of sympathetic acceptance, if not complete comprehension, and nods. “Good as new. I promise.” She reaches out to give the younger girl another friendly thump on the shoulder, and drapes herself back over the chair, swooping down to get a better look at the hem. Eliza fumbles around in the pockets of her robe for a moment, and comes up with a handkerchief and her wand – she hands the former to Olivia, with a crooked, comforting grin. “Here. I’ll just be a minute.”

Taking the handkerchief, Olivia dabs at her face awkwardly as Eliza thumps her on the shoulder. “Oof,” she responds quietly to this and rolls her shoulder. No, Olivia is not delicate, and could not claim to be such even if she wanted to, but it still takes her by surprise. “I still need some practice at mine. I’m hoping I can master it so that I can make my own clothes and then my parents won’t have to buy me clothes anymore.” The girl watches Eliza and reaches down to hold her skirt out again to help the older girl in any way she can.

“Oh, it’s just a Reparo,” Eliza says with a shrug and another grin, as she starts to get her wand into position. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried making my own clothes. Although I bet you could, with enough conjuring charms and the like. Good idea for something to work on in future.” Eliza leans forward, carefully putting her hand on the other side of Olivia’s, and narrows her eyes to examine the tear. “Oh, this isn’t bad at all. Reparo!” With a flick of her wand and a decisive incantation, Eliza lets the spell go, and in a few seconds, the skirt has bound itself up again, leaving only a few straggling threads to indicate where the rip once was.

“Oh, thank you,” Olivia replies, looking down at her skirt quietly, now merely clutching the handkercheif without a comment. It is a long moment, though, while she continues to stare down at it and then she blushes a bit, looking back at Eliza. “Isn’t it possible to take the strings off so nobody could tell that it’s been ripped?” the girl asks quietly, looking down quickly. “I mean, thank you, so much, for helping me, I shouldn’t be ungrateful.” Her voice is quiet as she says this and she bites her lip, looking back up at Eliza, red-faced.

“What, those?” Eliza nods down at the few stray threads. “‘Course, if you like.” There is still a faint air of incomprehension about the Head Girl’s manner, but she takes Olivia’s concern in stride with another shrug and a crooked, reassuring grin. Eliza slides backwards into the chair again, kicking her feet out to push herself backwards against the cushions as she considers the mended skirt. “You could just get ‘em with scissors if you want. Or you could do a Cutting Charm, if you need practice with that. You’ve gotten those by now, haven’t you?”

“Oh, right, scissors. I could ask the Muggle Studies teacher if I can use them,” she comments quietly, looking down at her skirt and then finally letting it go. “We did cutting charms in first year,” Olivia remarks quickly, uncrumpling the handkercheif in her hand and folding it up carefully before glancing around. “Did you see where my book went?” she asks the older girl, holding out the handkercheif to return it. After all, she’s only barely used the thing. “I was just getting to the really interesting part.” She smiles ever so softly as she sais this and looks around Eliza’s books carefully, though given the trajectory of the fall, even Olivia seems to think it unlikely that the book will have fallen there.

“Why not get a bit more practice on Cutting Charms, then?” Eliza replies, with another, easier grin. She reaches out to take the handkerchief, stuffing it back into her pocket and following it up with her wand, then cranes her neck back to look over the edge of the chair at the floor, searching for the book. “Oh, there it is,” she says, unfurling a long arm to point at it, lying open and face-down several feet away. “What were you reading?” Eliza steps easily over her own fallen pile of books – mostly advanced Charms texts today, their covers shimmering with elaborate decorative patterns etched into the leather – and heads over towards Olivia’s book to retrieve it.

“Oh, Cutting Charms are easy, though. I need more practice with scissors before I can really work out how muggles go using them so often.” Olivia shrugs a bit. “Oh, oh, good,” she sighs, seeming relieved that it hasn’t miraculously changed directions and ended up in the fire. “It’s called…” Olivia has to pause a moment trying to remember the name, but she does not look at the cover of the book as she takes it in hand. “Oh, right, A Tale of Two Cities, by that Dickens fellow.” She pauses and sits down, careful to make sure her skirt does not wrinkle in the process. “It’s about the Muggle French Revolution.” She beams as she says this and tries very hard not to look down at her skirt, though her fingers do reach down to twine one around her index finger.

“Ha! Thought it looked like a Muggle book,” Eliza declares, with a triumphant flash of a grin as she passes the book over. “Haven’t read this one. Looks. . . rather rough going, if you know what I mean. Most of Dickens does.” Eliza vaults backwards across the arm of the chair, plunking down on the seat with her legs still dangling over the cushioned arm. “Did you get it for class?” she asks, reaching lazily down to shove her books into a pile that is slightly less obstructive, if equally messy. “I’ve found it awfully hard to get Muggle books shipped up here. . .”

“Oh, I enjoy it! I love the stories he tells…” The girl trails off as she says this and giggles a bit. “My friend lent it to me. She’s a muggleborn, and she brings a whole lot of books with her to school and things.” Olivia pauses. “Though, I won’t have to ask her for books anymore, because I’ve found some that are at the school.” Olivia certainly looks pleased at this, but the smile fades just a bit from her face as she realizes what she’s admitted. “But only when I’m at school. When I’m at home, I suppose I’ll still have to see if I can’t borrow any.” The girl shrugs and leans back. “What kind of books do you like better, if you don’t like these kinds?”

“Muggle books? Here?” Interest is the only emotion that Eliza shows in response to Olivia’s information – she lifts her head up off the arm of the chair, and raises her eyebrows in curiosity. “I’ll have to – huh. Guess I won’t have time to look for ‘em.” Eliza catches herself halfway through the sentence, and a brief ripple of unhappiness flows over her expressive face as she realizes once again how little time she has left at Hogwarts. She swallows, tosses her head to clear away the emotion, and pushes ahead, “Well. Good on you, finding them, then. And – oh, have I got any of mine around here?” Eliza cranes her neck to look down at her pile of books again, and shrugs. “Guess not. Well, I found these smashing adventure books – all about voyages in the Himalayas and pirate ships and things. Did a project on ‘em for class, even.” A spark of excitement lights her eyes, and her grin turns up again. “I could lend you some, if you want, once you’re done with that one.”

“Oh, adventure books… well, they aren’t really my favorite,” Olivia comments, biting her lip a bit and looking down at the book she’s got. “Are they gorey at all?” she asks, nevertheless. After all, she’ll be trying out Dracula soon, won’t she? Olivia pauses as she realizes that the term is coming to a close soon, which means that Eliza won’t be there much longer. “What are you doing after you leave school? Aren’t you frightened at going?” Olivia leans back in her seat a bit and tucks her feet up next to her. “I’m sure I’d be nervous. I don’t even know what I want to do.”

“A bit of blood in some of ‘em,” Eliza says, with a casual shrug and a toss of her head. Then she hesitates, her mouth screwing up in evident thought as she reconsiders, and admits, “Well, quite a bit, I s’pose. I’ll see if I can find one without too much for you,” she adds, brightening again. The thought of leaving Hogwarts diminishes Eliza‘s grin yet again, and she lets out a long deep sigh, folding her arms back to cushion her head on them. “Not frightened, exactly. I mean, I don’t want to go, but it’ll be all right.” There’s something of Eliza‘s usual bravado in her voice as she shrugs off the thought, but her eyes take on a sparkle of excitement as she continues, “And I’ve got plans already. I’m apprenticing with the Obliviators.”

“Oh, isn’t that terribly hard? I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to.” Olivia pauses and considers that. “Though, I suppose we can’t all be good at everything.” It stands to wonder what has put the usually worrisome girl into such good spirits. “And, I suppose if it isn’t too gorey, I could read it. I’m not fond of the blood or anything. I really like the happy stories.” She pauses. “I’m hoping this one ends up happy. So far it’s not all that happy.” She shrugs as she says this, though, seeming to think more about the obliviators than the books. “Do the Obliviators work with the aurors, then, and go on missions with them? The dangerous ones, I mean.”

“Hope so,” Eliza replies, the sparkle intensifying to a gleam, and a grin of anticipation spreading across her face. “I mean, it’s mostly going out into the Muggle world to take care of routine Memory Charms and the like,” she admits. “Muggles who’ve seen people flying on brooms, magical items that have found their way into Muggle junk shops, that sort of thing.” Slight disappointment about the mundanities of the job dims Eliza‘s grin, but she brightens again as she adds, “But I’ve heard that sometimes we do get to work with the Aurors and the other departments on big things. There was this fire-breathing dog a couple years ago – that must have been some fun, to track down people who’d seen that!”

“Oh, my…” Olivia comments, staring for a moment. “Why do people do that to muggles? I mean, they can’t help that they haven’t got magic. It seems so cruel to give them magic things or to do magic in front of them when they can’t help it.” She sighs a bit, and it is clear that she has perhaps learned something from the Muggle Studies classes. “Does it hurt, do you think, to be obliviated? Or maybe their head just aches a bit after.” She pauses thinking about this and sets her book down. “After all, it’s altering your memory some, so perhaps your memory would hurt a little after, just because it’s missing things now.” Olivia seems curious about this now and sits forward a bit. “I wonder if there are books about that. Do you think?”

A quieter sort of smile comes to Eliza‘s face, and she nods approvingly in response to Olivia’s compassionate questions. “Most of ‘em happen by accident,” she explains. “It’s pretty hard to come up with a flight path that doesn’t go over some Muggles somewhere, especially if you’re going in and out of London or Manchester or somewhere big. And you can’t control animals and that sort of thing. They’ve pretty much given up trying to obliviate all the Muggles in Scotland who’ve seen the Loch Ness Monster.” Eliza speaks with the authority of the newcomer – even if she hasn’t really started working with the Obliviators yet, she is absolutely confident of the two or three facts that she knows. “But you’re right – it’s not sporting to send things out to Muggles who can’t deal with it. And. . . Memory Charms don’t hurt, really. Little headache sometimes, if a lot’s been taken out. Professor did ‘em on us in class a few months ago – said we weren’t ready to do ‘em on each other, but we needed to know what it felt like. There are loads of books on Memory Charms – you’ll get some of the basics in OWL class next year, I think.”

“Well, I suppose I won’t worry about it, then. It would be awful if muggles got hurt because of it.” Olivia picks up her book again and licks her lips, as if in anticipation. “I hope I haven’t lost my place,” she comments aloud, and though it appears she’s about to settle in to reading her book again, she puts it down and looks at Eliza again. “Are the OWL exams terribly hard? I do so want to pass them, and I’m going to have to start studying now if they’re going to be very hard. I’m not very good at some classes.” She bites her lip as she says this and leans against the armrest on the chair. “Evan told me that I shouldn’t worry, but I’ve heard some fifth years talking about how hard they were, and how poorly they thought they’d done.”

“They were…er…” There is clearly an internal battle going on for Eliza – the reassuring smile she attempts to keep on her face is continually being weakened by the uneasy memory of her own OWLs. Lying isn’t a possibility, so… “Well, that is, they were…er…There’s a lot to ‘em,” she eventually settles on. “If you work hard, though, you’ll definitely pass,” Eliza adds, confidence returning. “Don’t need to start studying now – you won’t even know what sorts of things they’re looking for till you get back in the fall. Just keep up working next year, and it will all turn out right.”

“Well… alright. I just want to do well, is all,” Olivia admits, turning to look away and around the commonroom, which seems to be full of more mirth and mischeif than usual, being almost the end of term. Glancing up at a clock, Olivia gasps audibly. “Oh, no, I’m supposed to meet someone now!” uncurling hre legs from the seat, she stands up and seems to have forgotten about the strings on her skirt as she smooths it down. “I’ll see you later?” she comments to Eliza, and then carefully picks up her book, stepping over Eliza’s stack of books. And within moments she has slipped out of the commonroom again, the only sound left of her being the clicking of her shoes as she walks quickly down the hall.

Other Interesting Logs:

• Storm Clouds on the Horizon
• End-of-Year Feast: Olivia’s Perspective
• People Will Say We’re In Love
• Football and Cricket and New Umbrellas
• Gal-oo-shes and Um-ber-allas