It’s a nice cool spring evening, characterized by a classic spring shower. The beautiful blossoming flowers (and attendant feelings of romance) have combined with the joyous or sorrowful knowledge that school is ending soon, charging Hogwarts with a vibrant energy. People have a skip in their step, or are worrying over exams and exam results, or are trying out how to best approach the boy or girl of their dreams. It’s an exciting time to be around. Saphia, of course, is waiting impatiently. She’s been promised help with reading, and that is what excites her as she waits by the doors to the library. Inside, the librarian grouchily attempts to control the bustling students who are studying, cramming, trysting and gossiping within.

Rather behind schedule – though this is standard fare for him – Joseph hurries down the library, his feet pounding against the ground as he approaches at quite a high speed. It’s one thing to be late for a date, but for teaching a young girl how to understand Shakespeare? Never, if he can avoid it! Catching up to Saphia, he offers her a vague smile, holding out his hand to her. “Sorry I’m late – I got a bit distracted on the way.” Waving a hand, he offers no further explanation, just gesturing inside the library to an empty table. “Shall we?”

Olivia, who has until now been seated at a table with a book in hand, appears to have finished. Standing up slowly, she makes her way over to the librarian’s desk, slipping the book onto it quietly without trying to distract the person, and turns quickly, pausing over her bag for a moment, and then making her way over to the all-too-familiar section where the Muggle fiction is kept. She has been here many a time, it is clear, as she stops dead in front of it, pausing and crossing her arms gently. For quite a while, she stands there, looking more and more perplexed, though she says nothing to identify by what this frustration might be caused.

The moment Saphia declares, “Good evening, Joseph,” in a flat, clear manner, it’s clear she’s been mentally rehearsing it every moment she’s been waiting here for him. She must realise it sounds that way too, because she blushes for a second afterwards and whispers, “I’m so sorry, but it’s just so strange to say that!” None the less, she accepts the offered hand, and walks along with him, noting, “I was really hoping that we could look over Much Ado About Nothing? I know it’s one of his comedies, which sounds a lot more fun than the tragedies, frankly, and isn’t it set in Italy? My family’s from Italy you know. Well, half of it is.” As she walks around, though, even with Joseph standing right next to her and people buzzing about, she feels and looks not only relaxed but even authoritative. This is her turf. She waves cheerfully to the librarian (he scowls back) as she walks along with Joseph.

Grinning at the girl, putting a friendly arm around her shoulder – not a suggestive gesture, as it would be to a girl closer to his age, but a more brotherly display of affection – Joseph approaches the table slowly, thoughtfully. “Well, to be honest, I’m not that fond of Much Ado About Nothing, but we can start there if you really like. To be honest, when it comes to plays set in Italy, I’m much fonder of The Merchant of Venice, which is where I was planning to start. I think you’d like it.” Then, his hand flies to his bag, and he bites at his lower lip to keep from cursing. “But, I think I forgot to bring my Complete Works with me. Hold up a second, I’ll see if there’s a copy in here.” Without waiting for her reply, he darts over to the Muggle literature section, a veritable ball of activity, peeking through the shelves alongside Olivia for Shakespeare – any Shakespeare.

Turning to walk away, Olivia stops short and lets out a rather loud gasp as she nearly walks directly into Joseph who has joined her side without noticing. Clutching a hand to her chest, much as she has oft seen her own mother do, the girl takes several steps back and catches her breath while recovering from the shock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Olivia says in a whisper, apparently trying to keep herself extra quiet, for fear that her shock may have startled her voice into being mysteriously too loud for the library. “Oh, it’s you,” she comments in a more relieved tone, apparently glad at it being someone she has at least met before.

As her friend is greeted by the nervous and apologetic girl, Saphia has a moment of self-reflection and identification, and whispers, “Don’t worry about it, I know how you feel.” Offering a tiny, bashful smile, she takes herself over to the ‘SHA’ shelf, rummaging through the Shakespearian texts and looking for A Merchant of Venice.

Smiling charmingly at the Hufflepuff girl, Joseph is fairly instantly apologetic, even stepping back and bowing slightly. “No, my fault. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” Then, he steps forward again, perhaps just a little bit too close for comfort, certainly between two near-strangers. “I know that an intelligent young beauty like you would know exactly where you could lay your delicate hands on a copy of a Shakespeare play? Merchant of Venice in particular, but any one will do, in a pinch.”

Quite startled, once again, by Joseph, Olivia blushes rather hard, biting her lip and turning her head quickly to the shelf. “There’s one at the bottom there, I think. Or it’s in a volume, I believe.” She pauses and glances momentarily at Saphia and then back at the shelves. “I’ve my own copy now, so I’m not certain if it’s still there.” This is said a bit louder than before, with a more hearty confidence than she had inspired in her last statements, though it is clear that she isn’t sure exactly how to react, and she looks from Saphia to Joseph to the bookshelf and around again in uncertainty. Her mouth opens for a moment, and then shuts again, though her face seems to be asking the question for her — ‘why?’.

Saphia Bona smiles as Olivia looks over toward her (well, the shelf) and whispers, “Thank you, Miss. My mother’s been ever so upset that I wouldn’t be learning the Bard here at Hogwarts, she feels it’s an essential part of learning.” Running her fingers across the books with a practiced ease, she hits upon a book entitled, ‘Shakespearian Comedies — With Annotations on Why They’re Meant to be Funny by Beatrice Bibli’. Saphia seems mildly put off by the subtitle and remarks, “It’s a wizard-published edition, Joseph.”

Shaking his head at Saphia, his distaste evident at the subtitle, Joseph steps back from Olivia without another word. “Well, it’s good enough. Just ignore the annotations on humour, I’m sure you’re bright enough to get it without some daft old witch telling you why you should laugh. Take that one.” Then, again, he turns his eyes on Olivia, holding out his hand to her politely. “Would you like to join us in our studies? I wouldn’t want to get anything wrong, and if I should go astray, I’m sure you would be able to lead me back to the path.” A brief pause, and he adds, “It’ll be like practice for the book club, once it kicks off. Sure, there’ll be more than three of us, but it’ll be rather like this, won’t it?”

“A little, I suppose,” Olivia admits, but still hesitates as she looks from one to the other and then down at the book, which she, too, seems to find in distaste. “I was sure there was a regular copy of it, but it must be borrowed.” She chews on her lip momentarily, still looking hesitant and then looks down at her feet, or the floor — it is hard to tell which. “I was actually trying to find something I hadn’t already read. This section is awfully small, and the librarian told me ‘for merlin’s sake’ not to bother her any more today, and Professor Walsh hasn’t anything new for me right now.” It appears that these facts are, in fact, personal tragedies for Olivia and she frowns, glancing back up, but not looking Joseph directly in the face as she admits this. It could be apparent to some that she is not exactly sure how she ought to interact with those with whom she is only moderately — or not at all — acquainted.

Brightening as Olivia comments on her book-hunting, and suddenly realising that anyone whose read this much is surely a kindred spirit, Saphia chirps, “I could always lend you something from my collection! I have a whole host of books and any that I don’t have here I could always get dad to send from home for me.” After a moment’s thought, she notes, “Well, and if I can borrow one of the larger school owls. I daresay Mina would have a fit if she was asked to carry a book. She’s tiny, you see. Very small.” She indicates with her hands, holding them apart and making a square with them to show how tiny Mina is. And then, with a double-take, she whispers, “Book club?” Her eyes aren’t meant to go that wide. No-one’s are.

Nodding almost conspiratorially to Saphia, Joseph makes his way back to the table with a broad smile. “Oh, yes, bookclub.” He explains, gesturing for the two girls to follow him. “Every so often, we all read a book, then we talk about it together, discussing the good points and the bad points, what we didn’t like and did like… it’s a good excuse to read those books you’re always intending to read, but never get around to, plus sit around and talk about books with other people who like to talk about books.” If he’s not deliberately trying to pique Saphia’s interest, it’s surprising. However, he does nod to Olivia as he speaks. “It was largely her idea,” he explains, smiling to the Hufflepuff girl brightly.

Blushing again, Olivia doesn’t seem to be quite as uncertain as she clasps her hands behind her back and follows them back to where, well, where they’re going. “It was the librarian’s idea, really. She said we might get more copies of books, on loan and things, if we had a book club. I still have to, er, talk to Professor Walsh about it, though.” She says this quietly, glancing at the librarian, who gifts her with a rather harsh look, causing Olivia to look away again. “I wish there were more books in the section. Mum and dad haven’t any at home, so I’ll have to reread the ones Evan got me for Christmas over summer vacation.” She sighs audibly at this. “My owl isn’t big enough to carry books, either,” she comments to Saphia, not helping to give an idea of the size of the thing, though, as she still has her hands clasped behind her back.

“Some of them are, though,” Saphia notes, “I’m certain I could borrow one. Or I could bring a bundle of them with me for the start of next year, and I could lend them to you then! Or I might have some with me in the dorms, but I’d need to double-check, I only can bring a few dozen books with me each year. Well, not counting schoolbooks.” Her face clouds with a sudden burst of grumpiness. “Did you know that the Hogwarts Express has a five bag limit for each student? Why, with one bag of clothes and Mina’s cage, that only leaves three bags for books! And one of them needs to be for schoolbooks! Mind you, I stuff my clothing case with a few books as well…”

Shrugging his shoulders lightly, Joseph has the perfect response to Saphia’s dilemma: “So get bigger bags.” Smiling amicably at both of them, tapping at the tabletop idly. “It is a very good idea, though, and I’m sure you’re just understating your part in it.” He reaches out for Olivia’s hand, just to gently pat at it, before returning his attention back to the book. “Well, Saphia, should I take that as a sign of your interest? Perhaps we should put off our tutoring until the book club gets together, then? Then you can experience ‘The Merchant of Venice’ with more than just my opinion.”

“Oh, I wonder if we couldn’t trade books through the owls at the post office,” Olivia comments and turns, sweeping up her bag from the nearby table and taking her seat at the table that Joseph has picked. “Although I’m not sure I’d have any that are worth bothering. All I’ve got are some muggle fiction books and history texts.” Olivia blushes as she admits this and glances down at the table, rubbing at an ink-spot on her hand. “I do have a better version of Shakespeare, though,” she comments and leans down, carefully extracting the book in question from her bag. “It’s got four plays in it only, though.” She shrugs a bit and sets it down on the table, and it is clear that it is a strictly muggle text, without any wizard’s comments affixed.

“I can only carry so much, Joseph.” Saphia mutters, looking through the Shakespearian book she has. “S… so when would this book club be starting?” She asks Olivia, smiling. “I do have a lot of books I could offer around, as well. Muggle books and wizard books. I… I think I said that already.”

Shrugging his shoulders again, Joseph doesn’t appear to actually have a response to Saphia’s first remark and so remains silent for a moment, glancing between the two girls. Then, finally, he begins to offer an explanation. “Well, me and this fine lady here are trying to get all the managerial details organised this term – a location, advertisement, so on and so forth.” Another smile, this one directed largely at Olivia. “That way, hopefully we can kick off at the very beginning of next year.”

“I still have to talk to Professor Walsh,” Olivia admits, shrugging and looking down at the table, twisting her hands together. “I love to read muggle stories, though. They’re my favorite types of stories.” She smiles a bit, looking at Saphia momentarily and then to Joseph. She nods as Joseph says this and smiles a bit more easily. “It should be fun, I hope. I’m not sure what book we’ll do first, though. I don’t want people to quick because I made a bad choice to start.” She pauses. “You don’t think they would, do you?

“I’m sure they wouldn’t!” Saphia remarks, earnestly shaking her head. “There would surely be some slips and missteps, there are with any organisation I’d imagine, but I think the whole idea is wonderful!”

“Of course not,” Joseph agree with Saphia comfortingly, reaching out to pat Olivia on the shoulder. “I would vote for something unmistakably interesting, though – a Shakespearean comedy. Merchant of Venice, or Twelfth Night – how can you not love a play about a lead box, saying ‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath’? Or yellow stockings, cross-gartered?” His tone is excitable and eager – his passion for Shakespeare apparently unaffected by his readings and memorizing the passages. Then, perhaps realising that, indeed, he is the only one in the room that appreciates cross-gartered yellow stockings, he clears his throat and leans back in his chair, looking at the other two expectantly.

Nodding and sighing a bit, Olivia watches Joseph for a moment. It is clear that his quotations don’t do him much good with this Hufflepuff as she lets the silence permeate a bit. She then turns and looks at Saphia. “Have you got many History texts that I could borrow? I mean, other than the ones for classes, of course.” She giggles a bit. “I’ve already read all the ones through Fourth year, obviously. I’ve been working on the ones that the school has, too, but there are so many. I may never get through them all, I think.” A pause and a bit of a smile seems to indicate that she doesn’t mind having such a wide selection.

Saphia Bona nods. “Oh, absolutely!” Saphia beams, and whispers, “I have many books on the Great War, in particular. My father fought for the Allies in the war, as an engineer. He got as many books as I wanted about it. I also think I have some books on the Boxer Rebellion and the Boer Wars.”

Leaning back a little further from the table – apparently, Joseph doesn’t particularly enjoy history books, compared to his other reading passions – the Ravenclaw boy just watches the two girls for a moment, uncertain of how to reinclude himself in the discussion. Reaching into his book bag, he pulls out a few books, passing them through his hands, then clearing his throat again and re-entering the discussion. “Well, what about these?” An Agatha Christie, Dracula, Frankenstein… it seems that the boy likes a bit of a macabre or mysterious tone to his literature. “Do you think anyone would be interested in these?”

“Oh, brilliant!” Olivia replies, rather loudly, then claps her hand over her mouth. “Those are Muggle texts, aren’t they?” she asks, though it is clear she already knows. “Oh, that would be so wonderful!” She claps her hands together, and then turns her attention back to Joseph. “O-oh, aren’t those scary books?” she asks him, quirking her head ever so slightly and biting her lip. “I’m afraid I’ve never been brave enough to read scary books.”

“Oh no!” Saphia shakes her head at Olivia with regards to her question. “Frankenstein isn’t really a scary book, it’s very deep and sad, moreso than anything else. And Mrs. Christie is really more of a mystery writer. Dracula… well, I haven’t read Dracula. Actually, I’m not much of a fiction reader, I confess. I’m more interested in non-fiction subjects. I’ve lately been reading Mary Wollstonecraft. She’s very interesting, and I think she’d have been pleased with wizarding society, actually. It’s a shame she didn’t know of it.”

Lowering his voice a little, leaning forward a little bit closer to Olivia, Joseph offers, “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll read it to you while holding you in my arms to protect you from the vampires. I could never just sit by and watch you feel scared, my princess.” He watches her for a moment, intending to meet her eyes for a long, intent moment before turning his attention back to the full group discussion – just in time to catch Saphia’s comment, shaking his head. “Well, I don’t think the book club will really be readig a lot of nonfiction, though it’s pretty interesting. Dracula isn’t very scary at all, honestly.”

“Oh, well, if it isn’t scary, I suppose I can read it,” Olivia admits and shrugs a bit. As Joseph makes his comment, the only thing the girl can do is stare at him, mouth agape. “Oh, uh… er…” she stammers. “I’m not a princess, actually.” This seems to be the only thing she can think to say before turning her attention to the table again. “I, er, hope we can pick some regular fiction books and things so that other want to join. Not everyone might like Muggle fiction, after all.”

It’s a rare day you’ll see Saphia criticise her elders, but at Joseph’s remarks, Saphia merely rolls her eyes and notes, “Please, Joseph.” Emboldened by the familiar territory? Spends too much time around Professor Rathe? Merely amused by his declaration? Probably all of the above. Joseph doesn’t have much time to react though, as she immediately adds, “And why would you have two garters on a single stocking anyway, yellow or otherwise?”

Rather over-dramatically lounging down in his seat, Joseph seems to take particular offense – at least a mocking, overdone offense – to this statement, and pouts at the young girl. “You sound like a cross between Professor Rathe and Noemie Ribouet.” Then, just as quickly as he affected this over-dramatic expression, he abandons it, smiling at the two girls, launching into his favourite mode: explanation. “Well, you see, that’s the whole point. Maria and Feste and Toby Belch don’t like Malvolio, so they write him a love letter that he thinks is from the Lady Olivia, instructing him to wear yellow stockings cross-garted because it looks ridiculous and is a colour that she thoroughly abhors.” Waving his hands vaguely, as he speaks, he is thoroughly absorbed in his explanation – and certainly doesn’t think to explain who Maria, Feste, Toby Belch and Malvolio are – and mostly ignores the Hufflepuff girl, be she a princess or not. Only when he has finished his explanation does he pay her mind again, reaching out for her arm again comfortingly, but remaining quite silent.

“There’s someone named Olivia?” the girl asks, gasping a bit. “I guess I haven’t read that one yet,” the girl admits and looks down at her book. “I wonder if it’s in here.” She opens it up, pulling it closer toward her and looks over the Contents. “Oh.” she states simply, and it is clear that the play in question isn’t in the book. She closes it up and then leans back a bit, slipping her arm out of his reach and blushing again. “Maybe I should just…” She gestures to the door and bites her lip, looking at Saphia, apparently feeling just a bit uncomfortable.

Saphia Bona is also looking a little uncomfortable now, as well, given Olivia’s response and Joseph’s actions. Trying desperately to break the tension, she responds, “Oh, look! Jules Verne! Voyage to the Center of the Earth!” Somewhat ferociously, she grabs the book, sits on the floor and reads a little too intently.

Glancing between the two girls, the awkward moment creeps over Joseph as well, and he clears his throat again. “Perhaps we should cover Shakespeare some other time. You look like you need to be alone, my lovely girl, and Saphia, um, you know, we should wait until we have my copy of the book onhand.” He smiles to each of them again, though it is a thinner, more awkward smile than before, though he is obviously trying to be amicable, and he rises from the table slowly. “I’ll talk to you later about book club,” a nod to Olivia, “and I’ll talk to you later about everything,” a nod to Saphia, “and I’ll see you both. Unless I go blind. Or you go invisible.” With a wink, he turns to depart.

Nodding mutely at Joseph, Olivia looks at the table until he is gone and then stands up and puts her book into her bag. She looks around slowly and seems unsure as to what she should do. “I guess… I’ll see you later,” she tells the younger Ravenclaw and offers a small wave, before slipping out of the library quickly, likely bound for her commonrooms.

A third empty glass chinks down on the bar beside two others, but only the first carries a trace of the lingering foam of harmless butterbeer. The dregs at the bottom of the second and third carry a far stronger scent, as does the young woman who sits over them, shoulders hunched and cloak hanging loosely about her shoulders. “‘nother rum, thanks…” she barks toward the barman with a brief wave of one hand, before diving into a pocket to full out a few more pieces of change. Julie Wolffe has obviously been here for a while, and though her mood has eased up considerably since she first entered, there’s still creases upon her forehead and a bit of a hotted up gleam to her eyes. The stools either side of her are… quite empty.

Breathing in a sigh of distinct relief as she wanders into the shop, Eva seems rather pleased as she strides into the pub and takes a seat one over from Julie. “Firewhiskey, please,” she asks and grins at the person behind the bar while she waits. She exchanges vague sociabilities with the person behind the bar as he gets her drink, glancing ever several moments at Julie, her eyebrows seeming to knit together in thought. While Eva is not attracted to women particularly, she does run her hand over her corset and her hair to make sure she looks respectable. She’s a vain creature, after all. It seems a long pause after she gets her drink and takes a sip of it before she finally turns to Julie. “You’re… Julie, right?” she asks, her cheeks pinkening ever so slightly at her inability to remember this person who she vaguely remembers from school.

Another small glass of rum is clunked in front of Julie‘s nose shortly after the firewhisky is delivered, and she grunts her thanks to the bartender just as she hears her name spoken. Wrinkling her nose, she twists her body to give the woman a partially squinted stare, idly running a finger about the rim of her glass as she does so. “…yeah?” she answers, wondering for a moment why she’s being addressed at all, before the faintest of memories sparks a hint of recognition in her mind. “You… we were at Hogwarts, right? ‘t the same time, I mean…?” Julie frowns a little as she speaks, and makes absolutely no attempt to recall names. With her mind starting to get addled by all the rum as it is, just visual recognition is quite enough for now!

“Eva Fallon,” the woman offers with a bit of a grin. The glasses in front of Julie seem to demonstrate to Eva that she’s in no way to remember anyway, and why would she? Eva only vaguely remembers her. “Well, I was Eva Wexler at the time. You’ve likely known some of my siblings as well, though… you were in… Slytherin, am I right? I only had one brother in Slytherin, and he was a seventh year when I started. Class of ’18, ah.” Chuckling, Eva moves to the stool next to Julie, watching for her answers, and just hoping that she hasn’t gotten it all wrong. For Eva‘s part, she can’t remember Julie’s last name at all, but this does not seem relevant, as Julie herself isn’t in a place to remember her name, either.

“Mmm-hmmm, Slytherin and proud!” she replies, with a hearty gulp of her drink, giving a slight wriggle as it goes down. “I s’pose I still -am-, now that I’ve gone back there and all…” Julie gives a wry sort of chuckle at this that probably underplays how pleased she is in fact to be working at Hogwarts. Shifting in her seat, she shakes a bit of hair from her face in what might be an attempt to ‘neaten up’, but in truth she looks just as disheveled as she did a moment ago. The thought to offer her surname, of course, doesn’t occur to her in the least. “And you were in….?”

“Ravenclaw,” Eva supplies happily. “Also proud.” It is playfully that she tacks this on, and she chuckles. “So, are you working at Hogwarts, then?” the woman asks congenially, leaning one arm on the bar as she takes a hefty sip of her firewhiskey. It is clear that Eva is enjoying her time not being pregnant for the time being. “A friend of ours recently started there, too, at the start of last year. She teaches Astronomy — Avery Go– er, Fallon. She’s my sister-in-law. I’m sure you know her; I’m not sure why I’m going on at length about it!” Eva laughs happily, and it is clear that the firewhiskey is already starting to take toll on her spirits, making her quite cheerful and red-nosed as she takes another sip.

A brusque nod is offered at the assumption, before Julie takes another swig of her drink. “Yes, yes. At least, see her around in the lounge now and again, though-” here she hiccups, and looks quite surprised at herself for doing so. She blinks, shakes her head, shrugs, and goes on. “Don’ really cross paths too much, see. After all, she works most in the towers, an’ I’m generally out on the grounds. Gamekeeper.” A smile tugs at her lips as she announces her new title, and a little warmth flickers in her expression before creasing back into a frown. “Still! ‘s loads better ‘n some of the others ‘t work there. Humph!” Both elbows bang into the bar as though punctuating her words, and another sip taken.

“Oh,” is all Eva can think to say in response to Julie’s comment about those who work there. After all, the only faculty she knows on the Hogwarts staff are her two sisters-in-law, and Eva cannot help but hope that neither is the subject of this ill-thought. The fire-whiskey does take its effect, however, and just a moment after thinking it, she makes the rash decision to say it. “Well, I should hope Avery and Sibyl aren’t included in these ‘others’.” Eva tries her best to sound cheerful, but her own fierce family loyalty is beginning to overshadow her ability to be cordial as she watches Julie carefully, taking another healthy drink of her whiskey, breathing deeply after such a large swig.

“Sibyl?” The briefest of smiles flits accross Julie‘s face as she echoes the name, and then shakes her head quite firmly. “Oh, nonono. She’s one o’ the nicest ‘n most civil folk there! Only one who offered t’ show me ’round the place proper, too, aside from Keelan ‘fcourse. Crazy how much has changed since I was there, ‘ve youbeen since?” The more she speaks, the more obviously slurred her words have become, but at least she can handle her drinks well enough for her scentences to keep sense to them. She takes another drink, and then slams it down as her thoughts turn to the more sour kind. “‘s that damned Helit man!” Julie suddenly bursts out with a snarl. “That… that… that man!”

“I have, actually! I was the exclusive sweets caterer for the Governor’s Ball there. It’s been wonderful for my shop.” Eva breathes in and sighs happily at this. “Sibyl’s another of my sisters-in-law; lord love her, she married my oldest brother. The things she has to put up with… I don’t know how she does it.” Eva makes it sound as if Basil is perhaps a serial killer the way she says this and shakes her head. “Ah, but my neice, Briony, was sure to tell me all about how the school had rearranged. I wish someone had mentioned that it would be more difficult to find the Great Hall before I tried to get there to set up my sweets, though.” She chuckles, but then her face falls as Julie mentions ‘the Helit man’. “Oh is he the — er — the one who has trouble with women?” is all Eva can manage in response. To be honest, she hasn’t heard a great deal about him, just that he had never looked any woman directly in the eye. “Is he really so bad as all the rumors? And they’re letting him teach still?”

Were she in a better frame of mind, she might have payed a little more attention to the more pleasant topics, and even had her curiosity roused when ‘sweets’ were mentioned. But being in the state she currently is, Julie latches quite firmly onto the topic that has roused her anger. “I d’nno why he’s getting paid t’do aanything at all!” she seethes, her incredulous, furiously confounded expression turned once more to Eva. “He is th’ most irritating! Frustrating! INFURIATING beast of a person I’ve ever met..” her voice becomes startlingly loud, enough so to attract a few glances from other patrons and a bit of a warning glance from the bartender. Then Julie scowls. “…beast is too good a word. I like beasts. He… he…” she waves her hands, fingers tightly curled, in front of her face, and her voice trails off as she tries (and fails) to find the right words to express herself.

“Er, cad?” Eva offers, her hand out flat before her, palm up as if literally offering to her the suggested word. It is not held out for long before Eva takes another drink. Yes, talk about men like this clearly requires Eva to be quite drunk, else she’s liable to be quite as livid and loud as Julie is becomming. “Perhaps you should talk to the headmistress about him. She seems a sensible sort; surely she won’t have someone so — er — well, awful on her staff as him. Or perhaps the governors can do something. Don’t some of the staff have close connections to the Board of Governors anyway?” Eva‘s suggestions all seem so simple, and it is clear she hasn’t quite the full idea of the severity of the situation, nor what the situation specifically is. After all, Sibyl’s never mentioned it in her letters, so Eva‘s at quite a loss.

“If theyaven’tdun anything about ‘im yet, why’d they bother doinanythin’ on my account?” Julie responds, with a fierce little brandish of a her fist. Taking up her glass again, she peers into it, blanches slightly, and then takes a tiny sip with a grunt. “Governors dun’ do anything useful. Argh!” she throws her hands into the air with the sheer frustration of it all, letting loose a -lot- of pent-up tension. “I’ve bin doing my job forhooowlong, now? ‘n he still! Still! Treats me likeIcan’t. Talking me stupid ‘nfront of the students. Actin’ like ‘m gonna be the death of ‘alf the school any minute. All on account o’ me being a girl!”

“Well, he certainly shouldn’t get away with it. Women are not dolls to be ordered about. We’re intelligent beings!” Shaking her head, Eva finishes off her firewhiskey and frowns, the annoyance of the situation getting to herself finally. “I hold that you ought to take it to the Headmistress. I wouldn’t be letting him get away with it. I mean, I work and run a perfectly good shop, which I own, with only the help of my cousin — I can’t make candy, after all, though I make dandy tarts — and my husband, bless him, stays at home with our kids. Actually, my brother’s doin’at too, so Sibyl can work at the school! He moved an’ everything! Eva‘s own speech slurs a bit, though she still has quite a bit more control over her speech than Julie has, it appears.

“‘n we can handle bigger ‘n fiercer beasts ‘n he EVERcould, too!” Julie interjects her own piece to Eva’s ‘speech’, as though it were the most perfectly appropriate statement that any self-respecting woman should be proud to uphold. Yes; ‘Woman Can Handle Bigger Animals Than Quintus’ …if that was a sticker, she’d probably have it plastered all over the front door of her hut. “Mebbe I’ll see’er..” she finally tones down a fraction, eyeing her drink carefully as she swirls it, then takes a hearty gulp that comes awfully close to draining it. “Whoo! Thattits the spot.” She pauses then, looking a touch confused for a moment, then carries on. “Yeah. Mebbe I’ll try ‘n talk to ‘eadmistress.” Again that confused expression, before her brain makes a connection. “Y’sell candy? Not ‘oneydukes, though…?”

Eva lets out a bit of a sputtering laugh and clutches her side as Julie nearly shouts this to the whole room. “Thanks,” she tells the man and takes her newly full glass of firewhiskey, taking a healthy swig. “Hooo,” she pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well, I used to co-own Honeydukes. S’a long story,” she tells Julie a wide grin. “We basically fell back on our sheer skills of persuasion to get the store. It was doin’ alright, but then we both started having kids and it was getting crowded, and when I married Tommy, it jus’ wasn’t fitting to live together above the shop anymore, so I was going to move out, and instead of just moving into Hogsmeade, I moved to Diagon Alley and bought an old shop there and set up Cordial Confections. Innit catchy?” Eva looks quite proud of this name indeed. “An’ I’ve been there a couple’a years now, and we’re doing pretty well. We sell little cakes and tarts and things, too, rather than just sweets. Think of it as Honeydukes, only higher scale.” She nods cheerfully and grins at Julie.

“Ne’er really gone anywhere bu’ ‘oneydukes fer sweets,” Julie admits, toying with her glass as she stares almost a little too hard at that last drop of rum at the bottom. Not to mention, of course, that Julie had gone quite a time without sweets of any sort when paying the rent had been a bit of a struggle. “‘llave t’come by sometime. Tarts’re good. Y’got carmemmeltarts?” Now that she’s ‘triumphed’ over her seething anger, falling back to the pleasant topic of sweets is a fair bit easier.

“Ah, yes, finally perfected them last week. They go so fast, though, I’ll have to think of a faster way to make them.” Eva chuckles as she says this, clearly not bothered by the prospect of selling twice or even three times as many tarts of just that one type. “The blazeberry ones are the favorite, though. I might even have to hire someone else just to help me keep up with demand. That ball was just the thing to help my shop prosper. Not that Honeydukes ‘s bad, by any means, o’course.” Eva shakes her head fervently. “I could never say that; I was part of making it what it is t’day.” With a grin on her face, Eva rummages through her pockets. Alas, no cards. “Well, I haven’t any cards right now, but we’re in Diagon Alley. The blue and purple sign. You should definitely stop by. Best to come either early in the morning or around closing time; the kiddies clog up the shop the rest of the time.”

Julie Wolffe grins broadly, albeit crookedly, and gives a firm series of nods. “Oh, ‘llbe sure to!” she says, and at the same moment makes the firm decision to finish off her drink, tilting the glass high to tip the final few drops down her throat. Clunking the now-empty glass with the other three, Julie eyes the for a moment, then casts her gaze over to the row of bottles shelved behind the bar, then looks guiltily back toward Eva with a small shrug. “S’pose I shoulddn’ ‘ave anymore,” she hiccups, wrinkling her nose and then resigning to the fact. “‘spent enough o’ my change alriddy.” At that, she gives a chortle, and pushes back her seat a touch. “‘ctually, Ishould prob’ly be off. Buck’ll be wantin’ is feed. Blasted rain. A goat should be able t’ feed ‘isself!” But these grumbles are good natured enough, and the woman gives Eva a fair nod as she slides off her barstool. “Wasnice chattin’ though! Seeyouround, eh?”

Putting her hand out and standing as Julie does, Eva smiles broadly. Now, why hadn’t she met this woman at school? Of course, Eva was different now. She puts the thought out of her head and chuckles belatedly about the goat. “Well, I imagine goats are a little like men, and they’re just too damn dependent to bother doing it themselves.” It is with a wink that she says this and then she pauses. “Well, perhaps goats are a little better. They’re not likely to order you around and tell you you’re a waste of space. Ah, well.” It is another pause before Eva sputters, “But then, Tommy’s never said that to me.” Shaking her head at her own near-mishap, she shrugs and breathes deeply, finishing off her firewhiskey in a rather brave gulp. “HOOO. Yes, anyway, stop by soon! I’ll be seeing you!” And whether Julie has shaken her hand or not, Eva turns and makes her way out of the tavern, in higher spirits than she had even entered it and a muffled CRACK is heard from outside, signifying that Eva has apparated, presumably back to her home.

It is almost sunset, the brightly streaked colours of the dying sun playing on the surface of the lake. The air is cool, though not too cold, and the area is quiet and near empty, for the moment. Apparently unbothered by the cool air and the quietness and solitude in the area alike, Kelly Pantall sits on one of the boulders, trailing her fingers through the pebbles. Her gaze is fixed somewhere on the lake, and she chews on her lower lip thoughtfully, a rather pensive expression etched onto her features.

With her Owl, Figaro perched on her narrow shoulder Rawnie is making her way toward the lake. “It’s sucha loverly day innit Fig…” She stops mid-sentance and looks up at Kelly on the boulder. “I don’t think ya should jump in, tha squid only act’s friendly I says. ‘el bite yer clean in ‘alf!” She spouts up at the older girl jokingly peering at the expression on her face.

Bounding out to the lake shore, Briony appears to be giggling hard and red-faced. “See, I told you I’d win!” she calls back and then turns around to see that nobody’s following her. “Oh.” This is stated blandly and she frowns a bit before turning around to see her housemates. “Hi, Kelly! Hi, Rawnie!” she greets them both individually and grins broadly, glancing only once more over her shoulder to make sure that those she was trying to out-run indeed have not followed. “School’s almost out!” she announces loudly, sounding quite excited, and ignoring the fact that the other students are bound to already know that.

The lake has attracted more than just Gryffindor students this evening. In the distance, yet steadily approaching, Evan is walking alongside Olivia, the two taking a night as summer nears to get out and spend some time together. Evan carefully steps across the grounds, for all that his attention is much more focused on the lady with him than the ground beneath his feet – presumably someone will stop him before he walks into the lake. “I still think we ought to learn human transfiguration earlier,” he murmurs, a presumably a followup to some conversation. “I don’t see what use the animals are, and it’s enough work controlling them without worrying about taking a test at the same time…”

“I always get the irritable ones who don’t want to be transfigured at all. I’m certain they do their best not to cooperate,” Olivia answers in affirmative with a sigh. “I’m sure I failed it because of that,” she tells him, shaking her head ruefully. Olivia finds herself stopping as she gets closer to the lake, kicking a small rock with her shoe and frowning rather hard as she spots Kelly. Oh, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. “Let’s stay over here,” she tells Evan quietly, trying to step in front of him and direct him in the opposite direction of where Kelly is.

Rounding out the house set, Saphia trundles along as well, burried under a fishing rod, a tackle box, bait bag, fishing line, and three manuals of best fishing practice, as she staggers down toward the shore. She doesn’t seem to notice anyone until she finally reaches the shore and unceremoniously dumps most of the gear to the ground, apparently finding it too heavy to put down any more gracefully. “Oh!” She comments, and smiles nervously to all the other students before flipping open one of the books and reciting to herself, “Setting up your fishing pole, step one…”

Glance fleetingly flickering up towards each person as they enter in turn, Kelly looks slightly put out that her privacy and segregation from the rest of the school has been spoilt by the entrance of so many others at once. Her gaze quickly returns to the lake, though, and she folds her arms across her chest in slight annoyance. “I wasn’t intending to jump in.” She offers in response, though her tone is quieter than perhaps is normal for her. “And I am thoroughly aware of the fact that it’s nearly the end of term, Briony Wexler, and the last thing I need is to be reminded.”

A smile spreads over Rawnie‘s face as she turns to Briony “I know! It’s ‘citin ainit?” She nearly yells with her… apparent excitement. She looks back up to Kelly after a momment and rolls her eyes. “Well I were only jokein, but now I don’t mind if yer jump in at all.” All this was said in a rather haughty tone. Rawnie smiles as the other students arive, especially Saphia. “Yer got any worms there Saphia? Can’t go-a fishin ‘ithout yer worms.” To which her owl Figaro gives a positive HOOT.

Smiling broadly to Rawnie, Saphia reaches into her bait bag and, with some distaste, pulls out a wriggling worm, before putting it back into the bag. “Absolutely, Rawnie. Good to see you again, too.” She continues to look over her manual, setting up her rod and putting line over it, and then concentrates hard on tying her hook to the line properly.

“Maybe there’s a spell to make animals want to be transfigured. Though the only person who’d think to come up with one must’ve sat through these same classes once.” Somehow, though, Evan doesn’t sound entirely serious about this idea as he answers. This is followed by a very quick and emphatic shake of his head. “The Professor must know how difficult they can be. After all, he can’t even control it by giving the same creature to every person, there must be some sort of compensation. I’m sure you did fine.” Her halt brings him up short as well, stopping beside her with a curious glance, which is turned from her to the edge of the lake. There’s a lot of people, but noting this fact doesn’t seem to ease his curiosity much, given how definite Olivia was about staying. “Is something wrong?” he ask back, also quietly, walking neither forward nor turning to move away yet.

“What are you doing over summer?” Briony asks the two Gryffindors, ignoring, for the time being, Kelly’s snarky comment. “I’m hoping my parents will let me stay with my Aunt Eva in London. Though, we just moved to Hogsmeade, so I imagine I’ll have to stay there.” She pauses. “Plus, Dad’s got some kind of… project… I guess. He said we’re going to work on it all summer to get it started.” The girl shakes her head in confusion and sits down on the ground, leaning back and propping her arms behind her head. “I’m glad to not have to do homework every day, now!”

Though she sighs heavily and rather unnecessarily loudly, Kelly remains silent for a moment, ignoring those others in the vicinity for a moment. Then, she looks up again, fixing a particularly dark expression for a moment on Briony. “Nothing. I’m doing nothing over the summer. I’m staying at home with my insane mother and my two sisters and my brother, and doing absolutely nothing.” The way she lists off her family members is spiteful at best, and she returns her attention to the lake darkly. “And I was enjoying the privacy of my sitting here until all of you came along.” She adds, at a low grumble.

“I dunno wot I’m gunner do….” Says Rawnie to Briony while chewing on her nails. “I guess I’m just gunner stay at home with my ol man. Maybe I can get Mimi ter take me ta ‘ogsmeade though.” She thinks out loud. “I ain’t ne’r been there…”

Saphia Bona looks to Kelly and frowns, and whispers to her, “I… I’ll take my fishing around the shore a little. I’m so sorry.” She begins packing her fishing gear up again.

“She, er… well,” Olivia frowns and leans against the tree nearby, examining her fingernails rather closely. “We met in the library a while ago, and she started yelling at me, and then called me stupid.” She begins picking at her fingernails, though the excitement of the other girls present does make some effect on her and she looks up at Evan, offering a small smile. “I’m glad it’s summertime, almost. My parents said it would be fine for me to visit in July.” She blushes and smiles more as she tells him this.

“S’a public place,” Briony answers to Kelly, frowning at the the girl and then sitting up. “If you come to Hogsmeade, you should come visit me. We can go on adventures and things. Gabe is probably going to visit some, and hopefully we’ll be able to look at some of the mysteries we found before we came to school.” She pauses. “That’s where I met him, you know. His mum used to watch kids for my Auntie Eva when she worked at Hogsmeade. Isn’t that neat?” The girl giggles and then looks at Saphia. “Oh, are you fishing? I’ve never done that. I hear it’s relaxing or something. It just sounds boring to me.”

Tuning again to look up at Kelly, Rawnie makes a bit of a sour face. “Aww shut-up Smelly, yer don’t own that lake an’ anyone kin come out here iffen they wan’ter.” She states in a very as a matter of factly type tone. “Jes cause ya can’t spend yer summer with Rafiepooh dern’t mean ya kin take it out on us.” Rawnie shakes he head and turns to look at Brony. “She ain’t gots no kinder manners a’tall”

His friend’s answer doesn’t seem to clarify things completely for Evan, who glances over at the group again, all of whom seem to be female. “Which she?” He frowns momentarily, glancing over to eye the group again, though a quick smile returns as she speaks of summer. “Did they? I’m so glad! Everyone will look forward to seeing you.. of course I will..” “You’ll meet the new baby! And if you’re able to stay long enough, we might even be able to take a day trip somewhere outside of Hogsmeade.”

Looking up at the other two Gryffindor girls, Kelly seems utterly stunned for a moment. Whether this is from Briony’s invitation to visit or Rawnie’s rather bizarre mockery is entirely uncertain. Finally, she offers the quiet query, “What, really?”, directed to Briony. As annoyed as she is (or was – her anger seems to fade a little, here), she calms down considerably, eying Briony, perhaps trying to see if this is some sort of jest. “You really want me to come and visit you, again?” Eventually, though, and with a very thoughtful expression, she seems called upon to answer Rawnie, and she offers, quietly and politely, but with an edge of contempt, “Rawnie Weller, I am only going to say this once. Leave me alone and never, ever speak of Rafe DeWitt again.”

“An’ what if I don’t eh?” Rawnie says narrowing her eyes at the older girl. “Ya don’t scare me Pantall, It inn’t my fault yer always lookin fer things ter be sour about is it?” Rawnie stands a bit firm despite Kelly’s penchant for hitting people. “I can out ‘ere ta look out at tha lake with me bird is all an I gotta rite ter it jes like everyone else.”

Her question unanswered, although she guesses she did speak it rather quietly, Saphia ignores Briony and Rawnie for a moment and then, biting her lip, she puts down her rod and walks over to Kelly. Clearly frightened of the strange third year, she puts her hands down on the rock Kelly is sitting on, and then whispers, “M… Ms. Pantall? You scare me, but I don’t think you’re a bad person.” She breathes out, the hardest bit done, and then finishes, “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll go set up somewhere else.”

“Sure, why not,” Briony responds and nods. Though the girl had been talking to the other Gryffindor, she doesn’t seem anything adverse in inviting them both. Well, except the fact that they seem to hate each other. “We could work on the Good Deed Club some, and get it ready to start for next year. We don’t want the same thing to happen next year after all.” Pausing as she looks at Saphia, Briony quirks her head. “What’d we say?” she asks. “You can fish as well there as anywhere else, I wager.”

If Kelly figured that Briony was actually talking to the other girl, it doesn’t show, and she offers a small half-smile in response, before turning to Saphia, eying her appraisingly. “Er. Okay? Thank you?” Though her words say thank you, her tone says ‘I don’t really care’, and only now does she turn to Rawnie. After a moment of silence, glaring at the girl with barely concealed annoyance and contempt, she offers, “You’re the most obnoxious girl I have ever encountered. I won’t do anything to you, but I hope you die over the summer.” As much as she would probably like to, she doesn’t dare to swing at Rawnie again, not in front of so many other people, one of whom has just called her ‘not a bad person’. She turns her attention back to Saphia for a moment, adding, “I don’t mind if you go fishing here. I’m leaving.” And with that, she stands up and begins to stomp away.

“Oh, a day trip? Where would we go?” Olivia asks, looking quite excited as she asks this. “Oh – oh, they live in Hogsmeade, too, it sounds like,” she comments, looking around Evan at the other students. “Does your mum have plans to go away for a daytrip already?” She asks and bites her lip. “I mean, I don’t want her going out of her way just because I’m coming to visit.” She pauses. “Oh, and what do you want for your birthday?” She grins widely as she says this and stands up from where she has been leaning to stand next to Evan again.

Saphia Bona looks sad as Kelly walks away, raising her hand for a second to try and stop her, but her nerve failing her. Sighing, she walks back to her fishing pole and winces at the worm, and finally just asks Rawnie, “Ca… can you put the worm on the hook for me?”

Turning a bit white at Kelly’s declairation Rawnie stares at her shocked for a long momment before she starts to shake a bit. “Well….” She starts but can’t find the words she is looking for. Taking a teep breath Rawnie‘s face slowly goes from pale white to deep and angry red. “Well… well w…..” She begins shaking so much that her Owl decides it better fly from her shoulder and land on the branch of a nearyby tree. “Well I hope yer sweet’eart finds ano’r girlfriend ter snog with!” She finally shouts at the top of her lungs before turning quickly and storming off toward the castle.

Evan Geroff glances again at the other students, question reguarding them in particular unanswered, but shrugs it off to instead try and decide whether he’s seen any of them around Hogsmeade during summers. Kelly does win a someone odd look, but that is all, before he turns back to Olivia. “There are usually enough students around. If you like, I’m sure we can find out who, and all get together some day. I don’t know all of them though.” “I don’t know where we would go – some nearby city, or.. anywhere you like, really. Mother doesn’t have any trips planned that I know of, but she wouldn’t mind. We frequently go..” places. Except that he pauses, to blink at Rawnie this time, and say a bit louder toward the general assembly, “I hope you all didn’t come for a peaceful sunset, did you?”

“I just came here to fish,” Saphia says, sounding disappointed as she appears to have driven off two people here now. Well, maybe it wasn’t her fault, mostly. Biting her lower lip, she grabs the worm and forces it onto the hook, wincing as she does so but successfully managing to bait her fishing pole. She then skewers the worm a second time (one of the books said always to skewer both ends) and leans back, before managing a truly dreadful cast that tangles her line and goes nowhere.

Staring gape-mouth as Kelly stalks off, Briony looks to Rawnie, and then to Saphia. “Huh,” is all she can say and she continues to stare as Kelly disappears into the distance. “Ew, are you going to put the hook through the worm?” she asks and then watches Saphia does so. “EW!” She stands up quickly. “Oh, no, does the worm get hurt from that?” she asks and stares, backing up a bit. “So brutal…” Briony shakes her head and acts as if she hadn’t squashed bugs as a child.

“I don’t know any of them either,” Olivia admits, looking at the two who are now left. “I wonder why all the shouting.” She bites her lip and gives a small wave to Saphia, directly diverting her eyes as she sees the younger girl skewer the worm. “I suppose if your mum wants to go on a trip while I’m there it’ll be alright. I just don’t want people to go out of their way, you know. Of course you know.” Olivia stifles a giggle, smiling as she says this. “You’ve brought books out on fishing?” she asks, stepping closer. “I didn’t even know people wrote books about that!”

Olivia can’t help but giggle a bit now, looking back to Evan. “They write books about fishin, see?”

“Oh yes!” Saphia grins as she hears Olivia’s comments, “They write books on everything. That’s why I love them so much.” Her wonderful smile fades a little as she untangles her line, and then casts again, this time getting off an awkward but passable toss that lands her hook a little ways out into the lake. “Now, let me see… hold your rod firmly and wait to feel a tug that indicates the hook has been bitten. Tug on the rod occassionally to simulate movement…” She tugs on her rod obediently.

“I know,” Evan answers. “But we enjoy it. Really.” He chuckles a little with the remark; it’s a discussion he’s used to. Looking obediently toward Saphia and the fishing books, Evan glances back at Olivia, then apparently figures this isn’t the girl who was upsetting her and steps closer to get a look at the equipment. “What will you do if you catch one?”

Shuddering a bit as Saphia continues on with her fishing, Briony crosses her arms and looks in the direction that she had come in, the direction from which her friends were supposed to follow. “Well, I’m going to go see where my friends got to,” she announces to everyone. “Have fun, er, fishing,” she tells Saphia and then turns with a wave. “See you all at the feast tomorrow!” The girl sprints away quickly, though not quite so quickly as she seems to think she ought to be able, given the pudge that still lingers on her being.

“Oh, right, of course,” Olivia answers with a nod, lingering closer to Saphia. “I just didn’t figure that one would need books on fishing.” Pondering over this a moment, Olivia smiles a bit. “I suppose I wouldn’t even know how to start, so a book would be helpful … if I wanted to fish.” She smiles to Evan as well. Almost as if the distance is too much for the young girl, she leans over and grabs at Evan’s hand, trying to draw him closer to her as she stands near Saphia, glancing only slightly down at the books.

“Well, I’ll hopefully bake it, I think,” Saphia muses, “Probably in a casserole of some sort. This is really only practice, though. You see, I’m hoping to start up a few fishing trips out onto the lake next year, if anyone else is interested and so, I thought, well, I’d really better learn how to fish in the first place.”

“Bake it? I’m sure the elves would make fish if you asked..” He’s nothing against cooking in general, but this still baffles Evan a bit. As he speaks, he responds readily to Olivia, accepting her hand into his and moving a step closer to her. His words, though, are still directed at Saphia. “Are there many.. edible fish in our lake?”

“But I enjoy cooking!” She answers, smiling, “That’s the whole idea behind my fishing trip. Which, erm, yes. You know, I don’t even know if we do have any edible fish in the lake, although I assume we must do since we have a giant monster in it, or what’s it eating? But I suppose it might eat som… AH!” She suddenly grabs her pole as it jerks in her hand. A fish is clearly seen on the end of her hook, flapping out of the water. She fights with it, trying to pull it in, but in the end it frees itself from the hook and vanishes back into the lake. However, Saphia, looking flushed and amazed, grins, “Well, I guess that answers that question, Mr. Geroff!”

“I wonder, it must be suppertime soon,” Olivia comments cheerfully. “All this talk of food has made me a bit hungry.” If the girl is trying to hint at going inside, she seems to be doing a rather poor job of hinting at this, though she does tug ever so gently on Evan’s hand. “Maybe you could get the house elves to make you some fish instead, and try catching some later.” The hufflepuff smiles to the younger student with a bit of a shrug. She isn’t sure of the appeal of fishing, but, of course, doesn’t want to belittle it.

Evan Geroff laughs quietly, giving Saphia a nod. “It does indeed. Half of it, anyway; I’ll know it’s edible when I see someone eat it.” Because magical fish could taste really, really terrible. “I don’t dislike cooking, but when every meal is made here..” Shrug. “You know, I don’t believe..” But whatever he doesn’t believe will remain unknown for the moment, the boy turning to Olivia and nodding again. “Let’s eat, then. Fish or no; I’ll settle for whatever they’ve made tonight.” He can always inquire after her name later, Olivia seems to know her. With that he turns toward the hand Olivia was tugging on, not letting go as he moves to walk with her back into the school. Only once does he turn his head to look back over his shoulder, adding a final comment to Saphia – “Good luck to you!”

Leaning back in the chair at her desk, Bonnie is, for once, not grading papers. It appears as if the woman has actually finished her grading for the day. Instead, the woman has a book with moving pictures on it, declaring that ACTION and ADVENTURE and THRILLS are contained within its covers. Though her expression is rather blank, it is clear that the woman is rather lost in the book, given her unusually casual posture in a place where students could easily see her.

Tentatively making her way into the classroom, hesitating as she steps into the entrance/bagroom area, Kelly clutches a few books closely to her chest and says nothing for a long moment, this in itself rather uncharacteristic of her. After a moment, she shuffles into the main classroom, offering a quiet call of, “Professor Kensington?” and clinging the books closer to her body like some kind of security blanket. Why did she decide to do this? Why? Well, because Divination is the only subject she’s passingly good at, she needs to brag about it in some way. But… why?

The voice startles Bonnie, and she looks up sharply from her book, snapping it shut and placing it onto her desk gently. “Miss Pantall, yes…” The teacher clears her throat. “How can I help you? It’s not often I see you in here after classes are done.” She stands up from her desk and smooths her robes down, as if reading the book had somehow mussed them. Pulling a tin out of her drawer, she strides around the desk and opens it up. “Biscuit?”

Clearing her throat audibly, not quite meeting Bonnie’s eye, and still clutching the books tightly to her chest, Kelly does try to smile as she approaches, though it is a smile tinged with nervousness. “Er. I was wondering if I could – oh, yes please,” she is distracted only halfway through her point, daring to reach out from her tightly held books to take one, before continuing on. “I was wondering if I could – for extra credit, in Divination, um…” Her actual point is lost to her nervousness, but it is presumed that there is a point in there somewhere.

Waiting for a moment or two for Kelly to answer, Bonnie closes the tin and a silence falls between them. “You were saying, Miss Pantall?” she asks, gesturing her hand to coax the words out of the third-year’s mouth. “You’ve never had reason to be shy with me before, Kelly. What’s bothering you?” Bonnie looks genuinely concerned as she says this and crosses her arms, tin still in hand, as she fixes her arms steadily on the Gryffindor girl.

“I… things haven’t been going well.” Kelly explains quietly, cheeks flushing pink, and eyes turning to the ground. “I need something to focus on for a while. So, I was wondering if, for extra credit in Divination, I could pursue… extra studies.” A small, shy little smile playing on her lips, she looks up at the Professor and offers, tentatively, “I’d still like to try and find out who – who Jack the Ripper was, with your permission and assistance. I think – I mean, what if I do succeed, huh? Then everyone will know and, and, it’ll be really great!” Some of her nervousness dissipates, here, letting loose her usual eagerness and excitement about this topic – rather more restrained than usual, but unmistakeably present.

“Well, if you can write out a proposal of what you plan to do and how, then I might be able to see about some extra credit,” Bonnie tells the girl. “And all things considered, you aren’t doing that badly, Kelly.” Her voice softens as she says this. “At least you’re turning your things in when they’re due. You could use to invest in a spell-checking quill, however.” Bonnie smiles a bit at her as she says this, leaning against a nearby table, and then holding out the tin to Kelly for another biscuit before taking one for herself.

Blushing a bit more strongly pink, Kelly takes the offered biscuit with a slightly shaking hand. “I should double-check these things.” She concedes – even in her quiet nervousness, however, she is not willing to admit to an actual deficit in her skills in any area. “I’m much, much better at the practical work, though, aren’t I, Professor Kensington?” Tapping the cover of one of the books, she continues to explain, “This book details how the mind can be sort of thrown to a certain thing while Divining, how when some people are really, really, really good, they can make themselves see what they want to see rather than just… whatever. I’d like to try it, Professor, even if I’m not that good yet – if I try now, I will be one day.”

“Yes, you are good at the practical exercises,” the teacher answers with a nod, patting Kelly on the shoulder. “If you can match that in your theory, I’d say you’ll be a shoe-in for excellent marks in Divination.” Yes, Bonnie is feeling very nice today, hence, the biscuits. “And you really must calm down. Nothing in here is going to eat you.” Pausing and looking at the book that Kelly has procured, Bonnie studies it thoughtfully. “Now, myself, I would be more inclined to have you use the Guide first, and then refer to that, but as it is your project, I will not lay down any mandates. I would like you to write out how you plan to go about finding this out, and what methods of divination you would use. Remember, a good Divinator always checks her work on things like this.”

Nodding in response to this, beaming quite brightly despite her nervousness and less than ideal mood, it seems that Kelly is no longer regretting her choice to approach Bonnie about Divination. “It’s – I really want to try and find out, Professor Kensington, both because I really want to know and because I – I need something to focus on, because as I said, I’ve not been having an excellent couple of weeks.” She hesitates, her expression turning hesitant and thoughtful again, and she adds, “Er. Can I – can I ask your advice on a more personal matter?” She bites down on her lower lip and flushes quite pink, lowering her eyes back down towards the ground, almost as if she’s half-hoping for a ‘no’.

“Certainly you can, Kelly,” Bonnie tells the girl and glances around the empty classroom. “Let’s go into my office,” she suggest, not waiting long enough for an affirmative response before turning with her tin and striding towards her office. Once inside, she takes a seat behind her desk and gets comfortable while she waits for Kelly to situate herself before the desk in one of the plush chairs that Bonnie has supplied for purposes such as this. “Now, what was it you wanted my advice on?”

Seeming quite startled by the passage into her office, Kelly bites at her bottom lip as she sits down awkwardly, taking a moment to formulate a response. “Er. Professor Kensington, how do you get someone you like to stop being angry with you? And how do you get someone who likes you to stop it?” Another moment of hesitation, though she evidently has an intention to keep asking questions, but finding herself unable to correctly formulate words. “And… if you have a friend, who you like a lot, but only as a friend,” these last few words are added hurriedly, as if she expects some kind of contrary accusation, “and he likes you – only as a friend!” Once again, rather rushed words, “How do you stop everyone else from thinking that you’re not… just friends?”

“Well, I don’t know that there’s a way around someone getting the wrong idea about someone you’re friends with. People will talk. So the only thing I can recommend in that respect is for you to write in your journal about how much it frustrates you, to get out the frustration, and then ignore it.” Bonnie pauses as she says this, reaching out to take a cookie out of her tin. “About this friend who is angry with you… have you apologized to this friend for what he or she is angry at you about?” Bonnie keeps an impartial expression on her face as she munches her cookie and studies Kelly’s face.

Hesitating again, biting down a little harder on her lower lip and averting her eyes from the Professor, the girl looks utterly pathetic, as well as uncertain about whether she should explain further. “The one who’s angry with me… isn’t so much a friend.” There’s an insinuation in Kelly‘s tone, implying that it is more rather than less, here. “And he’s angry because… people are talking. About me and my other friend. Er. Do you get it?” Her cheeks are flushed quite pink at this point, and her hands, such as they can be seen, clutching her books to her chest so tightly that her knuckles are white, are shaking a little. “So I don’t know if I can apologise for that.”

After a moment of pause, Bonnie finally responds. “You can have no control over the reactions of others, Kelly. If he’s getting so worked up over the rumors, perhaps he’s not the right one to be your friend.” Bonnie seems to have mulled over how to say this for several moments and is perhaps a bit unsure of how to broach such a thing. “In all honesty, Kelly, if he is your friend, then he ought to be your friend regardless of what other people say, especially if you’re completely honest with him in telling him that such things are completely untrue.”

Sighing heavily, Kelly leans back in the chair, affecting a completely despondent expression. Really, she is being rather over-dramatic about the whole issue, but by the same token, she is a fourteen year old girl and therefore has the right to be dramatic about such things. “That’s what Miss Eliza said, too.” She offers quietly. “But I don’t want to, to stop being his friend, Professor Kensington. Not really. I… I really like him. He gave me a book, once… and he wrote me a letter…” This seems to be about all she has to say, and she trails off into an uneasy silence.

“Well, Kelly, ultimately you have to decide what is best for you. Does this friend mean more to you than the other, about whom the rumors are going around?” While Bonnie has expected this to come with her job, she finds herself slightly unsure of what to say to the student, given her own tendencies and preferences in terms of friends and relationships. “It’s hard to say without being in your shoes, dear, but remember that you have to weigh whether your friendship with him is worth the stress that it seems to be causing you.”

Flushed even brighter pink, clinging her books even closer to her chest, Kelly is silent for a moment, thinking. Judging from her expression the thoughts coming to her are hardly desirable ones. “Prof – Professor Kensington…” She trails off, unable to verbalise her thoughts for a moment longer. “If I… if I have to choose between them, I’d have to choose my, my rumour friend… but I don’t want to have to choose, Professor.” Hesitating for a moment longer, she offers quietly, “And how… how do you make someone stop liking you, Professor?”

“You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to, Kelly,” Bonnie tells the girl, then pauses. “Well, you could, but it’s not something you should be trying to do. Only those who stoop to lows would actively pursue something like that.” Bonnie reaches out to pat Kelly on the shoulder and looks at the young girl pensively for a moment. “Try not to trouble yourself too much about it, though, Kelly. These friendships may wane over time, and in the end, you’ve only yourself to count on. Remember that, hmm?” Bonnie smiles slightly at Kelly as she says this, leaning back in her seat.

Hesitating for a moment, chewing at her bottom lip awkwardly, it is a long time before Kelly manages to get her thoughts together for long enough to reply sensibly. “Prof – professor Kensington, it’s just so hard.” Sighing heavily, if a little overdramatically, she continues to explain. “I’ve already stopped being friends with one girl, and now I think that was mostly his fault. And now, if I have to choose between him and him…” Exactly which ‘him’ she means where is quite lost in her recitation, and she doesn’t look up at the Professor. “I can’t… I can’t be alone forever. I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to be, Kelly. I’m just saying not to let them get to you too much, alright? Don’t let yourself get lost in them. Now, as for not wanting to lose them, sit each of them down and have a chat with them. If he or he has too much of a problem with it, then it simply won’t be worth your time and energy to fret over it. If they truly like you for you, Kelly, then they’ll understand.” Bonnie holds out the tin of cookies again toward Kelly, beckoning for the girl to take one, or perhaps three.

Given that she’s dating probably the least understanding of all Hufflepuffs, this advice is probably both very good and the least likely thing the dismal Kelly will listen to and follow. However, she does appear to be listening, even if she has no intention of carrying it out as such, so it’s a good start. Smiling a thin, vague sort of smile, and reaching out for another cookie – just one, she’s not being greedy about it – she is silent for a moment, thinking this over. “I don’t know what good it could possibly do, Professor, but… it’s just so complex, Professor. I hate rumours.”

“Is there a way for you to get out around the school that those rumors aren’t true? Perhaps confront those who are spreading them, or put up notices in places where they will see them. If they bother you, Kelly, you have to do something about it. It is my experience that they simply will not stop on their own.” In this, Bonnie is very right, though the fact that it still happens makes it clear that children will not stop or learn this principle, no matter how well they know it. “I’m very sorry this is happening to you, though, Kelly. It, unfortunately, is a part of life. Just try to find a way to stop it, and also a way to vent your frustration, alright?”

Though she does hesitate for a moment, it does not seem that Kelly finds this advice terribly applicable. After a moment, she offers, still nibbling on the edge of her cookie, “I can’t see how it would make it any better to put up big signs that say ‘Kelly Pantall is not dating Charlie Linwood’. For a start, people wouldn’t think there’d be any point denying it if it wasn’t true or something. And also, well, it’s just a bit weird.” And we all know that Kelly would never do something that can be construed as weird, of course not. After another moment of silence, she sighs heavily, slumping down a little. “If I could saddle rumour with the truth, it’d be good. But only the bits of the truth that aren’t secret. Because it’s not like I can just tell anyone the whole truth if they ask me about it.”

Looking at Kelly, Bonnie appears to have now got out of her element, a fact which does not sit well with her. “The only thing I can suggest, then, Kelly, is for you to journal about it a lot. Take out your frustration with that. Perhaps you could also join the Quidditch team next year if there are any openings. That could also help you relieve yourself of the frustration from the rumors. There isn’t any way to make people stop talking, unfortunately. Believe me, that’s the one secret everyone wants to know how to do. But, people will talk.” Bonnie reaches out and makes to pat Kelly on the hand, though Kelly sitting in the chair across does make this a difficult gesture.

Offering a small half-smile to the Professor as she reaches out, Kelly sits in thoughtful silence for a moment. When she speaks, it seems less because she has something that needs saying and more because the silence is beginning to feel awkward. “Well, I would kind of like to join the team, but I don’t think there are any open positions. If there are tryouts, I’ll go just to see… but I wouldn’t be a very good Seeker, you know? Or a Keeper or a Chaser. I can’t catch very well.” Another pause, a much shorter one, though still entirely thoughtful. “I suppose I could be a Beater. I’ve been told I’d be good at that.” Sure, it was a nod to her anger management rather than to her strength, but it’s more or less a compliment either way. “Charlie’s a Beater, though. That might be slightly problematic. Me an’ my best friend being Beaters on opposing teams…”

“You’re in different houses without it causing a problem, aren’t you? You just have to remember that the quidditch match is only once a year, and then you have to be friends with him the rest of the time. If you’re truly good friends, then it shouldn’t get in the way of your friendship to be on opposing teams.” Bonnie pauses. “Think of it like a game of chess. You wouldn’t stop being friends over a game of chess, would you?” The woman smiles a bit to the girl and withdraws her hand. “And if you really don’t think you could play against him, well, then perhaps it’s best to go back to the journal anyway.”

“In a game of chess, you aren’t trying to hit iron balls at each other.” Kelly points out, though she does giggle quietly over her own remark. “I get what you’re saying, Professor. I – I think I’ll try out for the team anyway, though, because, well, more than one person has encouraged me.” A pause, and she adds, “I write in my journal all the time, but I still don’t feel like I can be completely honest with it. I mean, what if someone else gets their hands on it and reads it? I can write about some things, but not about everything. Not the secrets, and the secrets are big, too…” Another tentative nibble of the cookie in her hand follows. Then, she chomps down the rest of the cookie all at once. No point in being tentative about it now.

“It seems to me that you need to learn and master the locking charm, Kelly,” Bonnie states frankly, scooting her chair back quickly. She walks over to the bookcase nearby and starts running her fingers over the books quickly. “Aha, here.” She slips a book out from the shelf and sits down again at her desk, quickly leafing through it. She continues until she is about three quarters of the way through the book and stops. “Here’s a charm that can help you lock your journal shut,” Bonnie tells her, holding out the book and turning it around so that Kelly can see the charm she’s pointing to. “You can borrow the book until you master it. I’d be careful doing it too much on the same object, though. Try to find an old book that you don’t need anymore, or perhaps a door that can be replaced first. Once you master that, you needn’t worry about someone getting it and reading it, because only the person who locks it can unlock it, with the exception of very skilled wizards.”

Though Kelly does take the book and inspects the page explaining the charm carefully, she seems hesitant about it all; perhaps because she feels uncomfortable being encouraged to use magic outside of class, even by a teacher, or perhaps simply because of her consistently poor efforts in Charms and other related subjects. Either way, she offers a small smile, adding the book to her pile. “Thank you, Professor Kensington.” She offers quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… thank you.” This seems to be all that comes to her mind, so she merely sits awkwardly for a while, watching the Professor in silence.

Sensing that Kelly doesn’t seem to have much more to say, Bonnie smiles congenially. “That charm ought to help you, if you can master it, and then you can feel free to rant as you like.” A pause. “Now, get off to supper. I don’t want you to starve to death on my account.” Bonnie stands as she says this, and it doesn’t seem to occur to her that Kelly came to her to seek advice rather than the other way around. “Come and see me whenever you need to,” Bonnie chimes as well, glancing around her office and making her way around the desk to look out into the still-empty classroom. Sometime, Bonnie is likely to remember what she had been doing before the student joined her, but for the moment, she is content to see Kelly out and then endeavor to remember.

Smiling again at the Professor – her expression tinged with a certain sincerity that it lacked before – Kelly stands, adjusting the pile of books in her arms and turns to leave. For a moment, it seems that she is about to leave in silence, but she hesitates on the way out, offering a whispered, “I’ll see you in class, Professor? I’ll – I’ll have my research proposition written up for you as soon as I can.” While, indeed, the extra-credit task was really just an excuse to come and ask the Professor for advice, but it would be wrong to indicate that the girl is actually disinterested in the idea. On that last note, she makes her exit, careful to keep her things in order. It is with a thoughtful expression that she leaves; whatever else the conversation achieved, it gave her something to reflect on.

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.

“I found it the other day when I dropped a book and it slid over here,” Olivia tells him, walking over to the bookshelf and slipping behind. There is just room for her to sneak through and she opens the door to it, sneaking inside. “Come on this way,” she whispers outward to Evan and sits down in the chair nearest to her, giggling a bit as she looks up at all the shelves of books. “Look at them all!” she tells him excitedly, pulling one off the shelf. “It’s a book full of names, this one. I need to pick a name for my new owl, still, after all,” she tells him. “It’s different every time. It’s like it can tell what books you want, or need.”

“Dropped a book?” Evan repeats quietly, but the grin on his face shows through in his voice as well, as he definitely doesn’t mean his words. He is silent again, not that he had spoken very loud before, until they are actually inside the little nook. Evan remains standing, surveying the shelves full of books, shaking his head a bit as he notices the sheer number of books about names in the area Olivia pulled one from. “You don’t want to go with Eisenwaldminder? It’s a perfectly good name,” he asserts, attention turning to other shelves. Those behind him seem to have a different assortment of books, though if he paid enough attention he might notice a few more name books creeping in as he takes up Olivia’s problem of naming the owl. His attention doesn’t stay for that long, however, before he spins around back to Olivia. “You could find anything you wanted in here, then? You could get ahold of all those muggle books you enjoy.” His voice echos her excitement to an extent, if only to know about her secret, or know that she’s found one and is enjoying it. Because certainly he’s never paid quite as much attention to more than textbooks.

“I was thinking some thing like, well… Nanaea.” She admits, biting her lip a bit at his suggestion for a name. “Or maybe Gaia.” There is a long pause and Olivia looks at the book in her hand. “Actually…” she admits. “Gaia is a nice, easy name. And it’s easy to say, don’t you think.” She nods and turns, putting the book back into the shelf that she has taken it from, and then stands quickly, precariously close to him as she stands on tiptoe, reaching for a book behind him. “But look here, a quidditch book. You like those, right?” she tells him, smiling and holding the book out to her side, looking down and biting her lip, her breathing perhaps becoming a bit quick at their sudden — and unplanned — close proximity. She can make no comment further, however, instead, just standing, looking at the book that she holds out in her hand rather than the friend in front of her.

“Gaia? True, it is easier to say.” Though Eisenwaldminder could be shorted to Eisy – that’s easy to say, too. But it is her pet. “And it sounds like a nice name. Why don’t you ask the owl?” Evan‘s attention is shifted as she draws it to another section, back to the books behind him again, and he partially turns around, looking up at what she pulls from the shelf. “Definitely. And I’ll need them, if I’m to keep learning new tactics.. I’ll be one of the senior members next year, and..” and captain in his sixth or seventh, he might hopefully add, had he managed to get that far. Instead, after she has pulled the book off the shelf, he turns back toward her to find her rather close. And not looking at him. And so, naturally, trails off, not entirely sure why his mind feels like he’s rushing somewhere now. Wordlessly he reaches for the book with one hand, and without looking finds somewhere convenient to set it. “Olivia…?” His other hand reaches for her chin as he trails off again, instead wishing to turn her head up toward him, leaning forward himself. His lips just seem to brush hers – gentle, quick, just hoping for a good response from her though likely she can’t tell how fast his heart is beating. See? His lips are good for something besides talking!

Olivia‘s heart is beating, likely, as hard as Evan’s is, and it seems to be all she can hear as his lips brush over hers. The completely unexpected situation of such close proximity has Olivia startled for certain and she slowly turns her eyes up to him, smiling very gently, softly, her hand following his, almost instinctively, as he takes the book from her hand. What does she say at a time like this? “… Yes?” she manages in a rather hoarse whisper, looking up at him with a steady gaze, though her hand trembles a bit. Whether this trembling is from excitement or fear, or even some combination of both is hard to say, but she does not remove her eyes from view of his face, nor does she move away, not just yet. Her other hand does come up to touch her own lips after she says this, more out of shock than anything else.

Evan Geroff truly had nothing more to say – his question was open-ended, perhaps just questioning the situation, perhaps his own surprise, but as such he doesn’t reply when she speaks to ask. His eyes still search her face, and when Olivia smiles, he gives her a soft smile back. He withdraws the hand that had originally been raised to her face, moving to catch hers within and gently encircle her fingers. Finally, an answer does occur to him, and he likewise does not pull away at all yet as he speaks, voice not daring to raise much above a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you.” This is unfamiliar territory, and his heart has not yet settled down, expression almost.. unsure, yet in awe of what’s happening, as he keeps his gaze on her face. Or could that be in awe of her, since his eyes aren’t moving?

Though she would usually perhaps move away, giving Evan his space, the girl doesn’t even feel the usual urges to do so. Instead, she almost wants to lean closer to the boyman in front of her. As he tells her this, the girl seems to even forget where she is, as her cheeks instinctively turn pink and she bites her bottom lip. The feelings the girl feels are almost too much for her and she does finally end up glancing away, only to look at their intertwined hands instead. “I think… you’re the most wonderful person in the world, Evan,” Olivia tells him in response, and this is possibly the highest compliment that the usually awkward girl can give. She licks her lips and takes a breath and then finally brings her eyes back to Evan’s face, with a wider smile.

Her response evokes a definite change in Evan. As Olivia speaks, Evan‘s smile increases, bright with a giddy sort of pride and joy. She said that about him! He gives her hand a slight squeeze to show his pleasure, as if his smile wasn’t enough to say how pleased that made him. He’s still at a loss for anything to say, but that is easily fixed; ducking down, the boy attempts to steal one more quick kiss before the moment ends and they go off to do.. whatever one possibly returns to, after joy such as this.

As Evan leans down, Olivia has also decided to lean up, standing up on her tiptoes a bit and meeting his lips to hers for a moment drawn out much longer than she had anticipated it being. This, of course, makes her heart flutter faster as her eyes close and she instinctively slips her arm around his waist. Her first kiss. It seems eons pass by before she finally leans back down, though her lips seem to linger. “Wow,” she whispers, and leans her head on his chest, a smile playing on her lips while she tries to calm her breathing and fluttering heart down. Her confidence almost seems bolstered after she finally picks her head up, and looks directly into Evan’s eyes, pressing her lips together while her mouth also twists into a bit of a smile.

Evan‘s arms move to circle Olivia as well, releasing only ages later when their lips seperate. He does not completely let go, though, moving just enough to hold her gently as she leans against him, for the moment not wishing for anything else in the world than to stay like that. His own head is tilted down, gaze falling over her, a light smile gracing the top of her head, and then, when she looks up, meeting her own. If he was unsure before, it’s gone from his expression now. His answering ‘wow’ is only mouthed, not spoken, if she notices it. If one happened to look around they might notice much of the section behind him has now become interspered with romantic poetry and other similar type books, yet Evan neither looks around nor would he have moved just to find one. He has his own words. “I like you very much, Olivia Baxtor.” His tone of voice, helped by the quiet level, shapes the words, lending, if it be heard, a meaning much more than wh at is actually said. He isn’t trying ‘I love you’ yet, but with all of his fourteen years he means it.

“I like you a lot, too,” Olivia whispers back, her lips twisting into a real, tooth-bearing smile. “Oh, I’m glad we became friends,” she tells him and hugs him tight around the chest, resting her head on it again and biting her lip a bit. Her voice is a little louder as she says this, and it seems that the awkwardness of the complete change in status has calmed down a bit and instead she breathes a contented sigh. If things could be just like this, for always, one wouldn’t hear Olivia complain. She, for her own part, doesn’t notice the change in books behind Evan, as her attention is instead on his shoulder, his arm, so comforting.

“So am I,” Evan agrees, if such even needs to be said. Leaving one arm wrapped around her, he raises the other to brush his hand across her hair before it drops to just hold her again and he lowers his head to rest against the top of hers. He waits a moment – a few minutes more than a moment, really, for all he wants is to keep holding her – before moving or speaking again, and which point he slowly raises his head. “Were there other books or areas you wanted to show me?” he murmurs, the question coming slowly and quietly as though he doesn’t dare break the silence.

Cuddling against him quietly, Olivia seems quiet contented to stand there with him until neither of them can stand any longer. When his voice comes, she seems to slowly slip somewhat back into reality. “Oh, right,” she comments quietly. “Well, I mostly just wanted to show it to you. It’s really nice. “Oh, look here,” she comments, reaching out with one hand and picking her head up. “Romeo and Juliet, by that muggle playwrite. I haven’t read this one yet.” Why this book would be on the shelf is anyone’s guess, but Olivia has taken it from the shelf and holds it out smiling a bit broadly up at Evan. “We could read this if you want…” she tells him, looking to the chair behind him rather than the one she had originally sat in and then back up at him.

Evan Geroff follows Olivia’s gaze to the seat, then gives her another smile, releasing one arm as he keeps the other around her to escort her the few necessary steps. “Would you enjoy that?” he murmurs his query, but perhaps realizes it isn’t the smartest question, for he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s, then.” Reaching out, he looks over the cover as he slides down into the seat, scooting over for Olivia. “Is this a very good one, do you know?”

“I heard someone mention that it was a tragedy, but a very good one,” Olivia tells him, looking down and then biting her lip as she carefully sits down on the chair, ending up more on his lap than not for the chair isn’t quite big enough for both of them. Perhaps in their next visit the chair will have morphed a bit to create room, but for the time being the two of them must sit cozily in the chair together, a fact which makes Olivia‘s heart beat faster once again while she settles in comfortably, leaning on the arm of the chair gently with her elbow while she opens the book. “Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…” she starts reading, her voice still rather quiet, as her finger follows along down the page with her.

“Comfortable?” Evan murmurs the question, and after making certain she is, he leans in closer to Olivia so that the book lays equally before them both. Now and then he takes his turn with lines or sections, reading in a quiet and steady voice. It seems a rather long play to read all at one sitting – but however far they get, as long as they can remain curled together like this, Evan won’t mind the length.

The cheerful sound of whistling echoes throughout the Wexlers’ new house, bouncing off the walls of the still mostly-empty rooms, and rising up to the second floor, and even the tiny tower room. The focus of the bright music, though, is Sibyl Wexler, bustling heavily but contentedly around the living room, studying it from every angle – and, occasionally, from a lower angle, as she takes a break to rest in the large squashy chair that sits in the middle of the room, one of the few pieces of furniture that has been moved in. But then she is up again, poking into the corners of the room. Occasionally, the cheerful rhythm of the music is broken up by a considering murmur from Sibyl: “Blue? Hm, with white trim, perhaps? No, maybe green…”

Striding in with his arms full of wallpaper and what looks to several wall poster, Basil drops them all onto a table that has been set up in the center of the room. “Which is for what?” he asks, looking quite perplexed at all of it, and as a snitch darts across one roll, he frowns. “I thought we told Briony no Quidditch paper.” He brandishes the roll at Sibyl, too seemingly distracted to figure out whether it is a poster or is, indeed, a roll of wallpaper. “I liked the green better, “he comments quietly and comes over to her, leaning down to kiss her gently.

“It’s just a poster, love,” Sibyl replies soothingly, tilting her head up to return the kiss. “And do you really think the green would be better? Here, look – ” She reaches down to fish through her voluminous robes for a moment, and pulls out her wand. Pointing it at the wall with the fireplace, Sibyl murmurs two quick incantations – and one half of the wall turns dark blue, and the other forest green, leaving the fireplace and mantel white. “I think I like the blue…” The color starts to fade after only a few seconds, but it is long enough to get a sense of what it would look like.

Pulling his wand out and pointing to the wall, Basil turns around once, surveying the room. “I was thinking more like this.” He waves his wand and a splash of color goes in stripes against the blue in a much lighter green, almost a muted heather color. “That’ll make it less dark in here, I think,” he comments. Realizing her comment about the quidditch print he shakes his head. “Whatever got her interested in Quidditch, I’ll never understand. It’s just so dangerous.” He sighs a bit. “Is she playing next year?” he asks, holding his wand out stil to sustain the color on the walls.

“Hm….” Sibyl muses, and tilts her head to consider the stripes. She raises her own wand again and makes a gesture of her own – the muted green lines narrow, and split, making a thinner, lighter pattern across the blue background. “There,” she says, with a satisfied smile. “How does that look?” Sibyl wriggles forward in her chair and pulls herself up, taking a few steps forward to get a closer look at the pattern before it fades away again. “I don’t know if she’s playing next year,” Sibyl continues, a little absently. “I know she wants to, but it depends on how her final examinations go. If she can’t keep her marks up, she won’t be playing again.”

“Maybe with a lighter blue,” Basil comments, drawing his wand along the way of each of the blue stripes to light them just slightly to match the green that he has put up there. “Much better,” he comments and smiles a bit while waving his wand to set the colors so that he no longer has to hold them with his wand. Turning to Sibyl again he sighs a bit. “I’d rather she didn’t play anyway. It’s just… so dangerous.” His comment does repeat itself with little difference from the last time he said it, but he seems to mean it just as fervently.

“Oh, perfect!” Sibyl cries, giving her husband a merry grin and a kiss on the cheek in response to his smile. “Yes, that’s going to look lovely!” And then Sibyl sighs, her own smile softening sympathetically, and slips her arm comfortingly through Basil’s. “I know, love,” she murmurs. “I’m the one to put all the children back together, when they get hurt. And I spend every match hoping that our Briony won’t be among them. But she hasn’t yet, and she loves it.” Fervor intensifies Sibyl‘s voice, even though her tone is still soft and soothing. “And she’s good, too,” she adds, with a ring of pride. “We’ll see how her marks are after this year,” Sibyl continues, giving her husband’s arm a gentle squeeze. “If she can’t pay attention to school and Quidditch, then…” She leaves the sentence unfinished, but the tilt of her head and the warning lift of her eyebrows imply the way it would have ended.

“She’d better be paying attention,” he comments and shakes his head a bit, glancing around the room. “I suppose we’ll have to fix the furniture to match,” he comments, glancing around at it all. “Maybe, er, tan?” he comments, not sounding entirely sure as he sits down on the furniture which is broken in quite well. Seemingly out of the blue he sighs and leans back. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get used to being home all day. At least the kids won’t be with Eva all day anymore.” Basil stretches back and looks around. “So, tan, do you think?”

“Mm. Perhaps,” Sibyl replies. With a sigh, she eases herself down onto the sofa next to Basil, and leans back, reaching out to wrap her hand around his. “You’ll find things to do. I know you will, love. The time fills up, when you’re taking care of the children and the house – sometimes without you even realizing it.” Sibyl stretches her feet out in front of her, and tilts her head to follow her husband’s gaze around the room. “Maybe tan, for some of the furniture. And some in green, to match the stripes?” She points to the large, squashy chair that she had been sitting in before. “I think that one would look lovely in green.”

“Sure,” Basil agrees, squeezing Sibyl’s hand. He pauses quietly, looking around the room. “It’s not the same as the house in Abbey Orchard.” Is this perhaps a bit of nostalgia from the man as he glances around at the walls with their partially affixed stripes. “I suppose I should have taken up your offer to teach me better cooking techniques when you wanted to teach me before,” he finally admits, glancing over to her. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.” Shaking his head, it almost seems as if Basil is having second thoughts about his change of employment.

“You pick that up pretty quickly too,” Sibyl replies comfortably, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring squeeze. “And I’ll be home all summer, so we can work on it together. I’m sure you’ll learn how to cook in no time – half of it is following recipes, and I know you’ll be good at that. Always so careful and exact.” Her smile softens fondly, and she shifts her weight on the couch, leaning closer to Basil and further back against the cushions. “We can see if any of the children want to help, too. I doubt Briony would stay still long enough to listen, of course.” Sibyl looks briefly heavenward, with a grin of affectionate exasperation. “But Alden and Alice might like learning to cook. Good practice for their Potions classes, too, really.” Her hand tightens around her husband’s again, and she adds, more softly, “You’re going to do fine, Basil. I know you will.”

“Briony’s little friend is going to be in Hogsmeade this summer, she said, so I don’t expect we’ll see any more of her this summer than last.” Basil shakes his head and slyly rolls his eyes. “She’s just like Eva that way. I’m still not sure how that’s even possible.” With a sigh, he shakes his head again. “It’ll do Alice and Alden some good, at least. Alden won’t be able to stay in the tower all the time.” Another pause and he looks at Sibyl with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it… I don’t know how you ever did it.” He pauses. “Maybe I can do my work by correspondence, and … take them with me on research assignments.”

Sibyl‘s only response to Basil’s observations about Briony is another comfortable, affectionate laugh, and a shake of her own head. “I know you’ll be able to do it,” she repeats, a little more seriously. “I think taking them on your research assignments is a fine idea. Finding little trips and things to take with the children is one way to pass the time, and to keep their minds – and your own – sharp.” Sibyl sighs, leaning farther back, as she muses, “It’s both harder and easier than you think, staying home with the children. I don’t know how I did it at first, but I got through it – and I was much younger and more foolish than we are now, when I left nursing to stay home with Briony.”

“I wonder if they’d let me do that,” Basil comments, leaning back. “Or…” The man’s face lights up as if he has thought of something brilliant. “Well, I doubt they’d let me back on since I quit like I did, and so quickly, but what if we wrote our own newspaper, Alden, Alice and me?” He looks to Sibyl with wide eyes. “We could send it to my family and to yours, or at least our parents, and keep everyone updated on things. It could be a way of writing letters almost.” He sits up, the fervor that often fired him up in his early days of journalism returning to his face after years of absence.

Sibyl knows that smile, and her own grows wider and warmer as she watches her husband’s face light up with enthusiasm. “That is an absolutely wonderful idea,” she pronounces. “The perfect thing to do! I can’t wait to read it. Truly, I can’t! I’ve missed so much of what’s been going on with the little ones, and this way, I’ll be able to know everything about what they’re doing. And once I start leaving this little one home for longer times,” Sibyl adds, giving her rounded belly a light pat, as her bright eyes shade towards wistfulness, “I’ll be able to keep up on what it’s doing, too.”

“Well, it can’t help all that much, I imagine,” Basil answers quickly, putting his hands on his knees. “But we’ll likely to be able to get the out weekly, if not more than that, and it will be good learning for them. Perhaps Alden will choose a career at the Prophet, or go on to do that Wireless thing that’s catching on so well, and he’ll rise to the top of his rank, and…” Basil trails off, “We can call it the Wexler Weekly, and create artwork for it, a specific design, everything. They’ll learn all about how a paper is created.” He leans back with a rather rapturous look on his face.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting the little one to contribute personally,” Sibyl laughs, giving her husband a playful nudge. “Just that you’d write about it.” As Basil starts to get caught up in his enthusiasm, Sibyl falls silent, letting him speak, and just watches, a warm, affectionate smile spreading her face as she watches her husband. “We’ll start this summer,” she offers. “So that Alden can have a chance to help before he goes off to school. And then you and Alice can keep it up after the term starts. Unless you’d like to keep Alden on as a traveling correspondent?” Sibyl is only half-joking – even though her tone is light, there is a core of honest interest and encouragement as she speaks about her husband’s new project.

“Oh, right. Right.” Basil shrugs as Sibyl points this out, seeming to let it roll off of him for the time being. “Oh, right, Alden is off to school, isn’t he? Hmm. Well, I suppose it could be Alice who goes into the Prophet after all.” The man shrugs again and smiles warmly to his wife. “I don’t know that he’ll have time to be a correspondent when he’s supposed to be worked on his studies. He isn’t to distract himself any more than Briony is.” He says this quite firmly and turns a bit on the couch to face her more closely. “It will still be good, though. Alice can help me copy things down and she’ll learn just as well.” He nods as he says this, though the inspiration does seem somewhat diminished as his team is lessened by this realization.

“Of course she will,” Sibyl agrees, lifting her head in unconscious defense of her youngest daughter. “Alice has a good head on her shoulders – I’m sure she’ll take to it. And if it turns out that it isn’t to her taste, well, at least she’ll have had a chance to try. They all will. And I’m sure that Alden will be very conscientious in his studies.” Sibyl glances up, as if her son were already in the tower room that had been reserved for him, and smiles fondly. “He’s going to do wonderfully.”

“He ought to for the amount of time he spends reading books. He doesn’t play with Eva’s kids the way Alice has been, so he ought to at last do well for the schoolwork.” Basil chuckles as he says this, leaning back on the couch and reaching his arm up over Sibyl as he turns a bit toward her. He reaches out tentatively and leans his hand on her belly. He almost seems as if he’s afraid, just as he had been with Briony, but this time, there’s more excitement and perhaps a bit of calm there, even. “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

Sibyl leans comfortably back into the circle of her husband’s arm. “It won’t break if you touch it,” she says, as she has so many times before, with a soft, murmuring laugh. “And neither will I. And I haven’t any idea, really. It hasn’t given me any indication of what it might be. I still think that another boy would be nice, to make two of each, but I can’t be sure. And I don’t really like ask anyone to use Divination for something like this. I like surprises,” she finishes contentedly, lifting her own hand to cover her husband’s, spreading her fingers out across the wide rounded arch of her belly.

“Oh, Divination is mostly horsehockey anyway. The “seers” we had at the Prophet had no idea what they were talking about. Most of them predicted Diagon Alley would self-implode at least once a week, or else that all muggles would miraculously gain magical ability.” Basil sighs as he says this, rubbing his hand idly over her belly. “I hope it’s a boy, too. Alden’s told me no less than five times to make sure that it’s a boy. I don’t think he quite understands.” Basil chuckles as he says this. “I suppose I’ll have to explain it to him again. He still keeps telling me that girls are gross and he’s never going to want to marry one.” A pause. “You don’t think he means that, do you?”

“He’s young, and he quarrels with his sisters,” Sibyl reassures her husband. She lets her head tilt back and lets out a contented sigh under the soothing motion of Basil’s hand, and lets her own hand slip off, coming to rest on his arm as she continues, “You probably didn’t have a very high opinion of girls at his age, either. And I know I didn’t want to spend any more time around boys than I absolutely had to.” Sibyl smiles, and even though her eyes have drifted shut, her voice is still clear and alert. “When the time is right, he’ll like girls.”

“Well, no…” Basil admits, but then frowns. “But if you consider that Eva was all I had to go by, it’s no wonder I didn’t want anything to do with them.” He sighs audibly as he says this, but then reaches up and runs his fingers over Sibyl’s face. “But you’re not like Eva at all.” For Basil, this seems to be the highest possible compliment he can give. “I’m sure he’ll come around and find someone almost as good as his mother.” Basil still blushes as he says this, even after years of being married, he still has ‘newlywed’ moments.

She’s entirely ignored Basil’s comments about his own sister, but at the last compliment, a soft chuckle sounds, low in Sibyl‘s throat, and her smile broadens, and her eyes open long enough to catch the slight pinkening of her husband’s face. “You’re sweet,” she pronounces, lifting her head to plant a light kiss on his cheek, and then leaning back again. “Alden will turn out all right, because he’s got a good father whose example he can follow.” She lifts her hand to catch Basil’s in hers, twining her fingers through his for a moment, and then letting them slip away.

“I’m just honest, is all,” he tells her softly, drawing his hand down over her hair and smiling happily. “And if Alden’s got any brains in his head, then he’ll know that’s all he needs to get someone who he doesn’t deserve.” Sighing, he leans in and kisses her cheek gently. “Let’s hope he catches the lesson, though.” With a chuckle, he looks out into the room. “Merlin, it’s so big. I don’t know what we’re going to do, just Alice and the baby and me in this huge house. Why didn’t we get that tiny one closer into town? At least I wouldn’t feel like we’re wasting the space.” Basil begins to sound like a bit of an old woman as he says this, though it contrasts quite greatly with his face.

“Because when we’re all home on holiday, we’d be tripping over each other and getting our spells crossed and being utterly miserable,” Sibyl declares with absolute confidence. “And with all this space, we can have Christmas here.” Sibyl opens her eyes, and lifts her head to look around at the wide expanse of floor stretching from the living room through the dining room. “We can easily fit my family in here – maybe even some of yours, too. That’s what we’ll do with the space,” Sibyl concludes, lying back again, with a slightly dreamy note in her voice now. “When you have space, you can fill it with people.”

“We can go to my mum’s house if we want to see my family; I’d much rather have yours.” He shakes his head and laughs a bit, leaning back and leaning his head atop hers. “It’s been a little while since we saw your brother, anyway. Is he married yet, or does he still want you to fight his fights for him?” Clearly, Basil hasn’t been paying quite as much attention as he ought into family matters. “Oh, I guess we should have Gil over. Kalika’s expecting anytime now, I guess. I have to say, there are far too many Wexlers already; I figure this one will get overshadowed by its many cousins.” He sighs as he says this, the romantic thoughts having clearly slipped out of his mind now in favor of family thoughts.

A gentle, reproachful nudge is Sibyl‘s first answer to Basil’s question about her brother – still defending him, even as she says, “He’s doing quite well, thank you! And no, not married yet, but doing very well for himself. We’ll have him and my sisters up for Christmas. And yes, we can have a few of your brothers over, too. One at a time, if you prefer,” she adds, with a soft laugh. Sibyl tilts her head to the side, nestling closer to her husband as he leans in towards her. “But after the little one is born. And I’m sure it will do just fine with its cousins. No matter how many cousins there are by then…”

“Well, I just wanted to know, that’s all,” Basil defends himself, shrugging, though there is a grin on his face. “I just wanted to know if you should still be looking after him like at school. Do you think Briony’ll do that for Alden?” He pauses. “I should hope not. I’m sure I taught him to stick up for himself better than that.” A half-shrug comes from him and he sighs a bit. “Why do they have to grow up and go away, and do dangerous things? I mean, who knows how many things Briony could blow up by trying things she oughtn’t. And that Quidditch. I’m pleased that Alice doesn’t seem to want to do it. I don’t think either of them would like very much getting hit by a bludger.” He shakes his head at the thought of it, which clearly doesn’t please him. Always back to the Quidditch, as well.

“I should hope they’ll look out for each other,” Sibyl retorts, with just the slightest pointed note in her voice as she looks back up at Basil. When her husband resumes his familiar, fretful litany, Sibyl lets out a soft sigh of her own, and pats his hand again. “And they’ll look out for themselves. I hope our Briony won’t get hurt either, and I know how reckless she can be sometimes, but she’ll learn. We did,” she points out gently, with a little mischievous twinkle in her eyes now. “Potions mishaps, Transfigurations gone wrong…”

“Just… hopefully she won’t blow up the kitchen or something.” He shrugs and sighs as he says this, running his hand up and down her arm gently. He stops about the Quidditch for now, though. “We ought to see about making the table a little bigger for the dining room. It’ll fit now, full size, and except this one here,” he pats Sibyl’s stomach as he says this, “Everyone can reach it at full height anyway.” He chuckles as he says this. “I expect Alice is about to have another spurt. She’s done that thing where they get a little round before they grow really fast. Remember when Briony did that right before she went off to school?” He pauses. “Well, of course you do.” Basil shakes his head as he says this and smiles a bit, clearly having put the thoughts of danger out of his head for the moment.

“I do,” Sibyl replies contentedly. Now that her husband’s moment of anxiety seems to be passing, Sibyl lets herself relax a little more – there is no need to steady Basil, and no need to be on guard. “She shot right up, and I’m sure Alice will do the same. And I’m sure Alden’s getting taller, too – he’s almost up past my shoulder now. We’ll need to get new robes for all of them. Although Alice might be able to use Briony’s old school robes when it’s her turn. If there are any that Briony hasn’t put holes in,” Sibyl adds, with an affectionate laugh.

“I doubt that, really,” Basil comments with a rueful shake of his head. “Maybe if Alden’s not too big when he starts, she can use his robes from first year, but I doubt Briony will have any that are really salvagable.” He pauses. “And you know how much she hates hand-me-downs as it is; I’d rather not give her any that have been patched or look too worn.” It seems that Basil has been paying attention over the years after all. “She actually complained at me for it when she put on one of Briony’s old dresses and it was too wide for her. I guess I never realized that Briony was a bit, er, larger… I guess, than Alice.” He shrugs. It is, perhaps, a good thing that he has never noticed this.

“She complained at you?” Sibyl repeats, her voice rising a note or two in surprise and concern. “Oh, dear. Well, we’ll have to make more of an effort to get her a few new things this year. It will be tight – but with two of them just needing school-uniform robes instead of all sorts of new clothes, maybe we’ll have a few more Galleons left over to get Alice some new dresses. It’s hard on her being the youngest, I suppose – so few new things, the others always having gotten there first…” Sibyl trails off, grinning as she corrects herself, “Well, she won’t be the youngest for long. But that won’t make a difference in clothes, really.”

“Well, she did mention it once or twice, especially when I dug out some more of Briony’s old dresses. I think she might like it better if she had some new things of her own.” Basil shrugs a bit. “I imagine some of my brothers might’ve felt the same, since they got my own hand-me-downs.” After a pause, he retracts this statement. “Actually, only Logan did, because by the time he was done with them, they were too worn to go to Jared, Gilbert or Freddie. I don’t think Logan ever complained to me, though.” He shrugs and reaches up, running his fingers down over Sibyl’s hair. “I’ll do some features for the Prophet if I need to this summer. Then we won’t have to worry about it. We’ve paid for most of this house already, plus with our savings. I’m sure we could put off the vacation another year or so…” He sighs. “I’m sure we can manage it.” It seems fateful that Alice and Alden should both come tearing into the house, giggling between themselves. “Dad, have you got the paper? Briony told us you got posters for the walls, too… did you really? Do I have to have Quidditch posters in my room, really?” Alice chimes, coming to stop rather breathlessly near the couch where her parents sit cozily, Alden close on her heels. Briony comes tearing in just a moment later, laughing louder than the two previous had combined. “You cheated!” she calls, and this echoes through the whole of the house.

“We’ll manage,” Sibyl agrees, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring pat, and leaning her head into his hand, smiling at the affectionate gesture. And then – the storm hits. With a sigh of fond, amused exasperation, as her children go tearing through the still-empty rooms of the new house, Sibyl hauls herself into a more upright sitting position, calling out, “Slow down!” Despite her contented serenity of a few moments before, Sibyl juggles her children’s questions with a sudden, efficient ease. “Yes, we’ve got the paper, and yes, Briony may have whatever she likes on her side of the room and you may have whatever you like on yours, Alice, and Briony, careful, there’s going to be a table right where you just ran through, so don’t get too used to doing that!”

“Oh, really? But she doesn’t even live here most of the time? Can’t she put them at school?” Alice sighs loudly as Sibyl tells her this and seems resigned to it. Briony scoffs from her side of the room, but shrugs. “I’m going to go upstairs and pick my side of the room now. Last one up’s a rotten egg!” With that loud exclaimation, her footsteps are heard tromping up the stairs, while her brother and sister both protest. “No fair! You got a head start!” and they also make their way upward. Basil looks at Sibyl with raised eyebrows. “Do you see what you’ve left me to? The lion’s den…” He looks over his shoulder at the now-departed children, trying, momentarily to ignore the shouts and giggles from atop the stairs until he hears a rather loud thud and a shriek. “Oh, no.” His voice is rather flat as he says this and he closes his eyes. “I suppose we’d better go take care of that. Would you like some help up the stairs?”

“Oh no,” Sibyl says, almost in unison with her husband, and her eyes take on the alert, watchful look of the professional nurse. “Yes and yes,” she says quickly, already starting to wriggle herself forward, struggling out of the deep, soft cushions of the couch. “Oof. And a hand up, too, I think,” Sibyl sighs, reaching out to brace herself against her husband’s arm. “You’ll manage on your own, love – oof! I know you will,” she continues, her comforting words starting to be broken up by little grunts of effort as she starts to push herself up. “But better to – oof! – take advantage of it while we’re both here.”

Basil helps her up, and slips one arm around her as the two of them make their way toward the stairs. Though it is not their usual way of walking together, Basil seems to be doing just fine at helping her and slowly helps her toward and up the stairs. They disappear out of sight to deal with whatever it is that has happened upstairs, going about the usual family way of things, though perhaps in a more subdued and pleasant mood than might usually be.

Clavicle Gravely comes down the passage and whispers the password. The secret entrance is opened and then a knock comes. “Professor?” comes the voice, a bit apprehensively. “Professor are you home?”

Lessons are finished for the day and with it, Astra‘s work. Having taken shelter in her suite of rooms, the face the professor wears at home is different then the one she displays publicly. Her boots are kicked off and her feet are covered in warm fuzzy socks, her clothes while still her typical garb are not so neatly tucked in and a masculine dressing gown of Chinese silk hangs loose and open over it all. Ensconced in one of the chairs, she’s quite curled up into it and nursing a cup of tea over a book. Hearing Clavicle’s voice, she turns her head in his direction and arches both brows. “Ah, Mister Gravely it’s good to see you. Please, make yourself at home. I’ve made up a pot of tea if you’d like some and there’s food to be had if you want.” “What can I do for you?”

Clavicle Gravely comes in and looks at his feet. He has not the first idea how to start this conversation. But he manages to as he raises his chin and sits. “I think I am having an issue…with um, women.” he nods. “And I don’t know whom to talk to about it, I know it is far off our normal talks, but I was hoping, you could advise me, maybe off the record as I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” he chews his lip, “But I am at an impasse.”

“Women.” Her tone is flat and Astra narrows her eyes just a little, she says nothing more as she sips at her tea and then closes her book, setting it off to a table beside the chair. “I think you mean teenage girls and not women, the two are not the same creature.” Contemplatively, she adds, “I suppose though that the former does think itself as the latter.” Shaking her head, she gestures to the couch. “Sit down.” “Now then, you like someone and don’t want to wind up in trouble then? That’s what I’m gathering.” “What’s going on?”

Clavicle Gravely ahs, “I meant no disrespect Professor of course. ” he blanches a bit. “But I am confounded. Completely. The trouble is probably not whom one would expect. It is with…Kelly Pantall.” he looks at Astra to see her reaction to that. “And I thought I was a friend to her and her to me, nothing more, but suddenly she’s vitriolic, hateful, physically abusive, and well… a spoiled brat. I don’t know what I did. She’s made her disinterest in me plain so I never pursued her, As I am still interested in Miss Bona, However, It’s .. Well I don’t know what I did, and we were friends…” he says this with more passion showing. “And I don’t know what I did to make it not so. It’s not as if there’s a lot of people…as strange as I am, and she is one, but now suddenly I am her nemesis. And I don’t know if it’s because I was supposed to pursue her and didn’t, Or if she thought I was, or if even she was interested in me and somhow…mad that I somehow threatened her sworn love of Martin.”

“First of all, I don’t care what men have said over the years. I don’t care what lies people say about females ‘wanting a man to chase her’. The simple fact is if a female says no, she means it. Do not provoke that and do not push it.” Leaving that lecture off, Astra sighs heavily and wipes at her eyes, “Love for Martin? That’s rather sad and misplaced given the fact that Martin is to be engaged.” “As for you, did you at any point try to form a relationship with Miss Pantall? Did you let her know of any feelings on your part aside from those of friendship?”

“I told her she was a friend and one of the few I had. She kepot going off on me. Hit me once or twice and at first I just.. allowed it.” he shrugs. “I don’t really have a lot of friends my age. She kicked one of my dancing skeletons and I yelled at her,” Clavicle‘s dancing skeletons are some of his uncle’s enchanted to seem alive toys, he’s given a few and sold a few but in typical Clavicle fashion, he sees them as more alive then not, ” but she apologized. But after that sudenly every conversation was ‘You know I am in a relationship’. And I would say yes, but she broke up with someone and I was interested in her well being, and she seemed to take it as an attack.” he looks at Astra, “Can’t she just be a boggart and I riddikulus her?”

“I cannot make a proper judgment regarding this as I do not know what was said between the two of you. You will have as much personal bias in this as she will, I’m afraid.” Sipping at her tea, Astra casts a scrutinizing look at Clavicle before letting her eyes wander around the room. “As for Miss Pantall, I would simply keep away from her and allow her time to cool off. Do not pursue her, do not show any interest in her aside from that of friendship. If I remember correctly she doesn’t have many friends either except perhaps that Hufflepuff boy, Rafe DeWitt.”

“It’s just a better name, Satinka, hands down. Poe-inspired, you can’t go wrong. And don’t try to convince me otherwise,” Seker says, raising a hand and placing it carefully in his sister’s face, just short of touching her, as he walks out of their room. Entering the common area of their residence, though, Seker‘s pace slows to a halt and he withdraws his hand. “Oh, company,” he notes, smiling a little. “Hi Clavicle,” he says, only to be distracted for a moment. He looks to his mother, asking, “Mum, tell Satinka that names should mean something. And, when are we getting our pets?” he adds, perhaps bringing some insight into what he’s talking about.

“Oh, honestly,” Satinka responds with a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Mister Wicked is a perfectly respectable name. It’s gads better than yours at any rate.” She rolls her eyes and comes to stand near her mother and then pauses. “Who are you?” she asks, giving the boy a peculiar look before Seker asks this question of their mother. “Yes, mum, I’m dying for a kneazle! Can’t we go to the store now and get them? You said we might have pets.”

Clavicle Gravely clams up as the twins enter and looks to the professor, “Er, Yes that is actually mmuch better advice then how I handled it so far.” he hmmms. “I er… told her she wouldn’t have an opprotunity to handle me poorly again.” he frowns and then stands and bows to the two children, and using sleight of hand he ‘magically’ makes a poof of flowers appear, which he offers to Satinka.

Trying to digest the sudden intrusion and conversation on the part of her children, Astra sighs heavily. “Seker and Satinka, I’m trying to have a conversation with Mister Gravely.” Still, she is a mother and can’t really ignore the pair very easily. It isn’t as if the two of them in a room makes them easy targets to *be* ignored. “I’ve told you before Seker, you will get an owl from grandfather and Satinka have I not said you must choose a cat, a toad or an owl? Grandfather would like you to have an owl of course, but if you’d rather have a cat that’s fine.” Dealing with family business, she takes another mouthful of tea before continuing. “Yes, names are very important but be careful what you choose. Look at what happened to the both of you.” Grinning mischievously, she’s clearly teasing the twins as a parent will. “Satinka, this is Mister Clavicle Gravely he’s one of my proteges.”

“That’s Clavicle,” Seker supplies helpfully to Satinka after Astra introduces him. “And you aren’t getting a kneazle! It’s like mum said,” Seker says, sighing. “Kneazles aren’t cute anyways, Satinka,” Seker discloses. “Their noses are all pressed in. You’d be far better off getting some kind of tabby. Actually, I see you with a Persian. Maybe a kneazle would be suiting,” Seker says, tilting his head. Looking to Astra, Seker asks, “When are we going to see grandfather? Can’t we go tomorrow? You don’t have to come, Satinka and I can use floo on our own,” Seker says confidently.

“Oh, I can use Seker’s owl, I don’t want one. I want a kneazle. It’s almost a cat, mum. It should count.” She crosses her arms, only to uncross them as Clavicle presents her with flowers. “Er, thanks,” she says, quirking an eyebrow and looking at the flowers as if they’re some peculiar being before setting them down on the table. As Seker pipes up, her face lights up. “Yes, we could just go while you’re at classes, and get them with Grampa!” Satinka grins and steps closer. “/Please/, mum? We want them ever so much. And I’m sure it would be useful for them to get used to Hogwarts now, that way they don’t get frightened by a new place with so many people in it.”

Clavicle Gravely chuckles a bit as the flowers just evoke an ‘er…’ He bows with a flourish. “Of course Madame. You would always be welcome at the Shadow Emporium.”

“Ah that’s the Rathe in her; at least she’s better behaved than I was. I would have scowled at you and said something mean before throwing the flowers on the floor and stamping on them. Of course, then my father would have hit me, but the point remains. She’s as much my daughter as her father’s, for better or for worse.” Sighing, Astra reaches up to rub her forehead. “Children, you will not be going anywhere without me. I’ve arranged for you to see Grandfather after school lets out and we’ll get your pets then. They can stay here for the summer and get acclimated.”

“That’s a long time, still,” Seker notes, crossing his arms and glancing at Satinka shortly, a bit of a glare in response to her treatment of Clavicle’s flowers. “Aren’t you going to put them in water?” he asks with a bit of an edge before looking to Clavicle and shrugging. “She’s quite girly, but not much of a lady,” says Seker, “so, don’t mind her.”

“You can do it if you want,” Satinka tells her brother, thrusting the flowers toward him with a shrug at the flowers in her hand as she looks back to her mother. “It’s ever so long,” she agrees and sighs a bit. “Can’t we go a little earlier? Next Hogsmeade weekend or something? I really think it would be better if I got my kneazle before all the kids leave so that he can get used to being around so many people.” She glances to Clavicle then, her eyebrows raising. “Welcome at… what?” She tries hard not to make this sound as if she thinks it the oddest name she’s heard all day, but being only eleven-going-on-twelve, finds this difficult, and the look on her face says what she is trying not to let into her inflection anyway.

Clavicle Gravely chuckles “The flowers are silk, It is a muggle magic trick after all.” he smiles. “But I would expect nothing less from a lady of refined tastes.” He bows again to Satinka. Polite to a fault, the showman in him doesn’t allow him to rise to stings and barbs that Seker implies, rather, he answers her, “You would be welcome at the Gravely Shadow Emporium and Autumnal Carnival.” he says pronouncing each capital with pride. “I’ve arranged already for you and Seker to have free admittance.” he grins. “We recently acquired a Bogart in a special cage which doesn’t allow it to escape, regardless of the form it takes, I am told by my uncle Ulnus it is quite thrilling.” he smiles. “But I believe the two of you were talking about Poe? May I ask what about? It is a favorite subject of mine after all.”

“The carnival Satinka, the one I took you and Seker to a couple years ago?” Trying to jog her daughter’s memory without being too rude, Astra finishes off her tea and uncurls from her chair. Standing up, she crosses the short distance to the kitchen area. Smiling for Clavicle’s response, she does not interfere except with a small sigh. “I do not think that they will be going this year. School and all, they get Sorted this year.” Not so subtle is her hint of motherly pride as she searches the back of a cupboard for a certain bottle. Taking it off the shelf, she then reaches inside the dressing gown pocket for the ever-present flask and fills it up. “There will be *no* kneazle Satinka, you know that.” Trying very hard not to sound flustered, “And I’m very sorry that you both have to wait, but you still have lessons and I still have work. We’ll go at the end of term and no sooner.”

Upon hearing that the flowers won’t be requiring any water after all, Seker merely comments, “Oh,” and sets them down, back where they were. Reinforcing his sister, though, he looks to Astra pleadingly before adding, “Yes, they have to get used to large crowds or else the summer months of student vacancy will lull them into a false sense of security,” he reasons. “Our pets, I mean,” he says, looking to Clavicle. “Not trying to change the subject,” he says quickly. “It was a brilliant fair,” Seker asserts with a nod.

“Oh, right,” Satinka answers. “I forgot the name.” This is said simply and she shrugs as she listens while Astra continues to speak. “But, mum, it’s practically a cat. They’re nearly the same thing! It should count!” Trying not to look too upset or sullen, she crosses and then quickly uncrosses her arms. “It’s such a long wait, mum, and completely unfair. First we had to wait to be sorted, and we didn’t put up too much fuss about it, but this is much smaller and easier to rectify. Can’t we just get them on the next Hogsmeade weekend? I’m sure Grampa would be willing to take us!” She frowns, and it is clear that she has to work not to push her bottom lip out as was her habit as a smaller child.

Clavicle Gravely grins and nods to Seker. “And you…I didn’t forget. I got a temporary tattoo for you. It will only last 1 week, But it is guaranteed to seem real.” he pulls out a small wrapped package, it is marked ‘Temporary Tattoo, Skeletal Falcon’. “It uses a henna base in the anchantment, and a printing block instead of a needled block. If it is alright with your mother I shall give it to you, but as we are doing mresearch on whether it will be popular enough to sell at the carnival, I would need you to tell me how you liked it.” He grins at the kneazle discussion and drops in, “You know there are half kneazles, and if the mother was a cat, they count.” he nods sagely.

“Yes, yes he can have it. He’ll have permanent ones someday if he takes up the Rathe tradition.” Speaking before her son can even beg her for it, Astra caves on that issue without any prodding. Glancing sharply at the three kids, she makes a huffing noise. “Cat or owl, I don’t suppose Satinka *wants* a toad. There will be no kneazle or half-kneazle running around. The last thing I need is everyone saying my children get special treatment because of their mother. No, they’ll be treated like everyone else.” “I’m sure your pets will get used to big crowds. I’m going to be here a lot this summer and I’m going to have Grandpa take you both to London to see Peter and Grandmother, then it’s off to Paris with Arnauld and Blair. You’ll have plenty of time to get your pets used to others.”

Too excited about the temporary tattoo to mind much, now, about the absence of his will-be owl, Seker takes the thing with a grin. “Thanks, too right I’ll let you know how I like it,” says the boy, a bit of rare colour flashing into his cheeks. “Where should I put it?” he asks Satinka. “I’m doing it right now,” he states, stepping towards the twins’ room slightly.

“Fiiiine. But can I get one later?” Satinka asks. “You know, just to… keep in here for summers?” She still wants the kneazle after all. “How long are we going to be in France this summer? Uncle Arnauld promised to teach me Italian if we’re there long enough.” She grins as she says this, as if it is the one thing she’s waited for quite a while. “Ugh, tattoos,” she responds to Seker. “Put it somewhere that I can’t see it.” She tells him and waves him off. “By the way, mum, if I’m going to learn Italian, I’m going to need some books. I want to get a head start.” A wide smile spreads over her face as she states this.

“Yes Seker, the directions are simple, Just place the Block against bare skin and it will magically transfer. Though if the block wiggles in a lifelike way for a moment, that is merely how it applies itself.” he nods. “We’ve a whole line of permanent self applying products.” The infamous tattoo block that Clavicle used in the great hall once that made a few people lose their lunch in his first year may be a story still floating around. But the block apparently came to life to insert the needles. “After it is upon you it will come to life, the tattoo. and you can train it, But don’t abuse it, or they get mad.” he nods. “My father accidently insulted one of his tattoos once, It stayed upon his nose holding a sign that said ‘rude git’ for several days till he placated it with a tattoo’d hat.”He smiles and looks to Satinka, ” Would reducto… upon a tiger count as a cat?” he wonders aloud. “Probably not. ” He shrugs, “But I wouldn’t worry Madam Satinka, if the creature was raised to be the pet of a Enchantress or Witch, The creature seems to possess a greater intelligence. I think they’ve special breeds that the muggles don’t get. To be honest, I never really asked. But your cat, or owl, I am sure will be delightfully intelligent.” The boy grins, “Italian, Such wonderful catacombs there.”

“Going to Italy would better improve your chances of learning than from a book, but we’ll pick some up. Old greybeard tried to teach me the language, bah, simply had no time for it. It’s a pretty country though.” Stopping off the flask, Astra returns it to the pocket of her dressing gown and refills her cup with tea. “Shrinking a tiger would not count as a cat, no. Please let’s not even go there.” “As for the rest, yes, wizard animals are not the same as their muggle counterparts. For one, they tend to be larger. They are also longer lived and more intelligent. Not that I know much about magical creatures, just a few things I gleaned from my father and his breeding of them.”

Glaring once more at Satinka, Seker threatens, “I’ll put it on my forehead,” as a joke as he turns on his heel. “Thanks again, Clavicle. If I see you tomorrow, I’ll show it to you and you can see how it turned out,” says the boy on his way out of the room. “Satinka, don’t you at least want to see me put it on?” He taunts as he disappears from the doorway.

“I wouldn’t want an icky tiger anyway. I want a kneazle.” Satinka sighs as she says this for what hopes to be the final time this confrontation. “At any rate, I’ll learn Italian this summer, mum, and then I can work on Welsh next summer.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t complain over going to Italy if you wanted to send us, though.” This is said almost too eagerly for the nonchalant expression that the girl seems to be trying to adopt. She crosses her arms again and then uncrosses them, reaching down to pick at her skirt. The girl looks over her shoulder and then sighs. “Well, alright, but only if you promise not to put it on your forehead or your wrist or something stupid like that. At least put it in a respectable place.” She shakes her head and starts following Seker into their quarters, only pausing to wave to her mother and the company as she disappears nto the room and closes the door.

Clavicle Gravely smiles as the two kids leave and he looks down. “Thank you for your advice Professor.” he shrugs. “I don’t even know why I feel it’s so important, except I miss her as a friend.” And maybe he was attracted as well, but who can tell, He’s been in competition for a girl’s affection whom hasn’t noticed yet that boys were quarreling over her. So perhaps he is as well, focusing so much elsewhere that he doesn’t know what he’s feeling truthfully. “My parents as well send their regards to you. As well as my Uncle who’s asked after your health quite often.” The infamous Uncle Ulnus.

Sighing as the children leave the room, Astra again sinks into her chair. “They don’t even know their native tongue. It’s sad. It’s terrible! I can’t believe their father didn’t see fit to teach them.” “Well it isn’t much advice really. I was never one to have romantic encounters in school and when I fought, I fought bitterly. Better to keep away than aggravate the situation.” “I’m sorry that you’ve lost a friend, but you never know there may be another waiting around the corner.” “Give your family my best, including your uncle.” Smiling a little she takes another sip of tea.

Clavicle Gravely nods a bit and grins at her, “Oh, I’ve a great uncle near the Collisseum in Rome, If you tell the keeper near the catacomb entrance ‘A grave concern the gravely makes, when it seeks a grave awakes.” he will show you the first wizarding Necropolis. He’s an elder chap, Brachio Majorus Gravely the 4th I think is his name. Or is it 3rd? I always forget.” he shrugs. “I doubt Satinka would like it, But Seker might.” He bows with a flourish and rattles off something in Irish Gaelic, probably a comment to her conundrum.

“I’m afraid I know not your tongue my lad, similar though it is.” Smiling a little, Astra heaves a sigh, “Someday they’ll learn it, I hope.” “I’ll keep in mind what you say about Rome, but I doubt I’ll ever go. I’ve given up the dream of traveling with the many responsibilities I have.” “Speaking of which, I ought to get some more work done.”

Clavicle Gravely bows with a flourish and backs towards the door. “Goodnight Professor Rathe.”

Astra Rathe raises up her cup in a fake sort of salute. “You too Mister Gravely.”

“Come in,” Darius responds in his typically stenorian voice. He’s not busying himself with marking this time. The office seems unusually still, and he is instead waiting behind his desk, giving the quidditch captain his full attention as she comes in through the door, guided by an unusually sternly worded owl letter that simply read, “Come to my office after classes. Please be ready to discuss the fifth of March.” It was the date she had missed Wizo-Music, although the letter doesn’t discuss anything more than that. Maybe she’s still in the clear? Hard to say from that letter alone.

The fact that Noémie hasn’t knocked yet on the door does not escape her, and she stands for a moment, her hand suspended in mid-knock. Returning it to her side, she smooths down her robes before making her way inside. “You wanted to see me, Professor?” she says quietly, stepping inside and trying not to look too much like she knows exactly what she’s there for. She gently pushes the door most of the way shut and comes to stand next to a seat. She’s not about to sit down, as she doesn’t want to be there any longer than is necessary.

Instead of asking her to sit down, Darius stands up and comes to her, leaning on the edge of the desk. “Congratulations on winning the Quidditch Cup this year, Noémie. You took a spectacular catch of the snitch in that last match.”

“Thank you,” Noémie answers with a rather wide grin. She can’t help herself when it comes to Quidditch, especially with being the winners of the Cup this year. “We all worked very hard for it.” She lets the smile wear itself away before returning to the subject at hand, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, you wanted to see me about something?”

“I did. Fifth of march. Defend yourself, Noémie.” Darius‘s voice is stern now, his manner firmer. “You missed Wizo-Music, and our discussion of raindrumming. You’d better have a very good excuse.”

Dropping her eyes almost immediately as he mentions this without any segue or even any indication that he might go easy on her, Noémie licks her lips. “I wasn’t feeling well, Professor, so I had to go lay down for a while. I should have told you about it, and I’m sorry for not doing it, but I have tried to catch up with practice and extra studying and things.” She bites her lip and looks him back in the face, the slightest trace of shame in her eyes as she awaits his reaction.

“Did you go to see the nurse?” Darius asks, his tone of voice dropping. It seems less stern, but still not quite positive. Almost reluctant.

“I fell asleep,” the girl answers in response, shrugging a bit. “I felt better when I woke up, so I didn’t think I needed to go see her afterward; it would have been superfluous.” Noémie crosses her arms and glances around momentarily, before deciding that it isn’t necessary that she sit down. This will be a short meeting, after all. … She hopes.

With a tremendous sigh, Darius walks back around his desk and sits down. “If you like, I’ll take three guesses as to which room you and Joseph were petting in. If I get the right one, will you tell me? I know that Hogwarts seems to have altered itself since I was here, and I’d like to see how good my knowledge of all the best places in the school is.” His eyes now match his voice, conveying tremendous disappointment more than anything else.

Unable to speak, all Noémie can do is stare as her professor says this. So this was how Joseph felt when Professor Kensington made those comments to him. The best the prefect can manage are a few stammers and a very red face as she uncrosses her arms and takes hold of the back of the chair with a rather white-knuckled grip. Even still, she cannot manage to say anything, knowing that whatever is to come out of her mouth will contradict the very large lie that she has just told.

Darius attempts to smile a bit more gently, and asks, “Noémie, take a seat. It might comfort you to know that I’m not mad at you. And nor will I let a word of this pass these walls, alright?” There’s still disappointment in his voice, but not as much. “It might also comfort you to know that I know almost exactly what it feels like to be in your shoes, and exactly what it felt like to be in Joseph’s.”

This does not seem to calm Noémie, and in fact her face only gets redder as she sinks into the chair, slumping rather low. “That’s… er… alright,” is all she manages to say, her face very much the shade of a ripe strawberry as she crosses her arms over her chest. She’s certainly not going to get caught doing something like this again. Hearing of the escapades of the teachers is just not something that the girl finds she would like to think over.

Spotting that he’s getting exactly nowhere with this girl, and sighing more, Darius instead declares, “I have no proof that anything you’ve said to me today is untrue. Get out of here, Noémie.” He looks to her one last time, and then sighs quietly.

“O-oh, okay,” she responds, standing up slowly, chewing on her bottom lip as she does so. “I’ll just… go.. then…” Noémie tells the professor slowly and glances around the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lessons,” she tacks on hastily at the end before turning to slip out the door as quickly as she can. Crisis averted. Despite the fact that she has just clammed up in the presence of a Professor, one can bet that a certain Ravenclaw Wexler is going to get an earful as soon as she locates him.

“Noémie,” Darius calls at the moment before she walks out the door.

Pausing as she hears her name, the girl stops and turns, opening the door back up. “Yes sir?” she tells him and bites her lip as she looks at him from outside the office. Perhaps Noémie isn’t off scot-free, after all.

After a very long pause, Darius simply asks, “You’re a good student, Noémie. Please don’t miss any more classes.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Noémie tells him, her voice clear and almost forceful as she says this, and if that weren’t enough, the resolve on her face seems quite set. Her face is still a maroon shade as she says this and she falters as she turns to leave. “And, er, thank you, Professor,” she tacks on before finally turning. The girl rubs at her cheeks as she makes her way toward the exit of the classroom, as if doing this will make her face less red.

Rhian Brecon settles in her seat at the announcer’s booth and after a quick test she starts of. “Good afternoon Hogwarts! It may be cold out here, but we’re all warming up for a good match today. Today we have my own house, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. As a reminder, Ravenclaw is led by Noémie Ribouet, Fifth year Prefect and Seeker for the Ravenclaws, while the Slytherins are led by Martin Foster, this year’s Head Boy and one of Slytherin’s Chasers. Today’s match is being officiated by our Professor of Herbology, Professor Walsh. Well, now that the boring part is over, we now wait to welcome the two teams to the pitch.”

Keelan Walsh waits, as usual, at the center point of the Pitch for the teams to arrive, sitting somewhat comfortably on the box containing the balls, her broom propped up against it as well. Today, with Slytherin on the field, she wears robes of a rich green, and has threaded silver through her braid today. As the announcements begin, Keelan looks up from a small book, and then toward the entrances. With a small smirk, she rises, and clasps her hands together, waiting.

Ah, a beautiful sunny day awaits Noémie as she steps out onto the pitch in the cold, late-winter air. Walking quickly to the center of the pitch where Keelan stands. Perhaps it is Noémie‘s imagination, but she does seem to see a few extra signs rooting specifically against her in the stands today. Shaking her head quickly, she gives a smile to Keelan and looks behind her as the rest of her team follows onto the pitch.

Making there way onto the pitch together in Slytherin’s last match of the year Louis and Martin both looked primed and ready to go. Louis comments to his captain after looking around the stands of the pitch and spotting a large sign with “Go Martin! Go Louis! Slytherin’s Dream Team!” written on it in large glowing green letters. “Looks like we have fans Martin, …. wait is that … it is! It’s the sign girl.” Louis shakes his head and Martin chuckles softly and gives his seeker a pat on the shoulder. Both boy’s waste no time climbing onto there respective brooms and getting into position in the air.

The seventh-year Ravenclaw keeper makes her way onto the pitch with the rest of her team. Feeling very sentimental, the idea that it’s the last time she’ll ever play Slytherin team seems to cause her to tear up a bit, and Van takes a deep breath. The Slytherin team is rather boisterous for her own taste (though Ravenclaw team is rather comparable, it’s different when they do it, of course), but she says nothing, instead coming to stand near Noémie and wait for the usual opening formalities.

Following the other members of the Ravenclaw team on the field, David and Clavicle are trailing behind. David is clutching his own tightly, and observes the Slytherin team, while Clavicle adjusts his gloves. “I wonder how the match is going to go…” whispers David to the other Chaser. “But this time, we’ve trained a lot more than last year, haven’t we?” he says, trying to sound confident. Yes, they are going to fly against Slytherin, but this is not David‘s first match anymore, and eagerness has replaced apprehension.

Bouncing excitedly, one would think that Bailey ate half of the sweets at Honeydukes before coming out to the pitch for the match. “Whooo, Ravenclaw!” he calls, waving his arms up in the air before coming to stand near Van, and rather distancing himself from Tegan, though a furtive glance is given in her direction. The chaser doesn’t say another word, though there is a large grin spread over his face.

Ashton Merck walks onto the field following his captain. With a confident smile he waves over to the Slytherin bleachers, raising his broom into the air and enjoying the atmosphere which seems to pervade him totally. “They look frightened, don’t they?” he chuckles, adressing Adalynn, the Slytherin keeper, who is walking a few steps behind him and seems to be more concentrated on the match than on the opponent’s feelings. Both of them stand in line with their teammates, nestling on their brooms and adjusting their gear, waiting for the game to begin.

Tegan Madison takes short but fast strides along the pitch, not very formiddable on the ground. She shifts her broom to one hand and tucks her bat under one arm in order to adjust her scarf and rub her nose. She comes up alongside her teammates, face set in determination. Her nostrils flare a bit as she overlooks the Slytherin team, and if her face softens as she looks nearly from the other end of the Ravenclaw lineup at Bailey, it’s hardly noticeable.

Sage Cloverwood and Tahiri Sol are following Ashton, their own broom over their shoulders, and sporting a set of matching confident smiles as they appear on the pitch. “Ah… the ickle Ravenclaws… I’ve heard they’ve trained quite a bit. But that’s because they couldn’t stomach their defeat, last year. I’m not afraid of them.” says Sage, and she readjusts her hair as she waits for the team to take off. Tahiri, in the meantime, just nods and observes the pitch, already concentrated on the match to come.

Clavicle Gravely nods to David as he walks in. The boy seems a lot more confident this game then last. His nevous step is gone and he grins up at the stands. “Come on David, we have to do the noble cry of the Ravenclaw.” He chuckles. He steps out from the line a bit and wavs to the stads. “AUK AUK!”

Keelan Walsh smiles back at Noémie, but mostly because it’s polite to do so. “Alright, teams. I don’t want to see any funny buisness,” she looks more harshly at the Ravenclaws than the Slytherin, of course, “I won’t hesistate to award penalties.” A grim sort of smile surfaces momentarily and then visably softens into a grin, “Captains?” She waits expectantly for the hand shake, and then opens up the ball box and lets the snitch fly. Taking hold of the Quaffle, Keelan lofts it into the air with one hand and blows the start-of-match whistle with the other. A minute or so after the teams are in the air, Keelan releases the bludgers, which whistle into the air after the players. Shortly, the referee mounts her broom and flys up to circle around the perimeter, eyes on the players.

Noémie‘s hand darts out for a quick-but-firm handshake with the Slytherin Captain, and then withdraws it nearly as quickly, taking her broom and mounting it. Soon, she is flying very quickly up, up, up above the stands and into the air far above the hoops and all the action. “Let’s do it, Ravenclaw!” she calls down to her team, though whether they hear her or not is debatable. She begins to fly in large ovals above the pitch, her eyes scanning the sky quickly.

Kicking off the ground, Van flies at a moderate pace towards the Ravenclaw hoops. She doesn’t appear to be in much of a hurry, though her face is set, and she takes her place in front of the goals, turning to survey the action, and find out who gets the quaffle. After all, if it’s her own team, she has reason to relax a bit for the start. The seventh year’s attention seems to become distracted to the stands for a moment, as a hastily waving Gryffindor stands out among a sea of blue scarves and banners, causing the seventh year to shake her head with a bit of a grin.

“All right, let’s go!” shouts David, mounting his broom and taking off, positioning himself near the center of the pitch at a low altitude, near the other Chasers. As soon as the Quaffle is thrown in the air, David steers his broom towards it. By pure luck, it was thrown somewhat in his direction and David catches it without difficulties, and he immediately flies towards the Slytherin goals. A quick look is given to his teammates, to assess the situation. “Clavicle, Bailey! Cover me!” he shouts as he tries to fly his way through the Slytherin line.

Rhian says, “And here they come, both teams coming out into the field, and after a type of acknowledgement from the captains, I think… the two teams take to the air. Now we wait for Professor Keelan to release all four of the balls so that the game can actually begin. There goes the Snitch, and the Quaffle is in the air! And it is Ravenclaw that claims the Quaffle, by David Mildred at the start of the match. The bludgers are now released. This game is now underway!”

Rising in the air Louis is already peering around the pitch with eyes squinted looking for the snitch. Obviously the best time to catch it is before any side score right? Martin, having shaken Noémie’s just as quickly gets a steely expression on his face and begins flying toward the quaffle trying to be the first to get it. Louis grins a bit to himself before yelling out. “Don’t worry Ravenclaw! We’ll try not to beat you too badly!” Nothing wrong with a little competitive ribbing right?

Following David sharply, Bailey makes his way down the pitch, ducking to avoid a bludger which flies a little too close to him for comfort. “Wide!” Bailey calls to Clavicle as Bailey himself widens the berth between David and himself, flying near the edge of the pitch. He glances behind him and scowls a bit at the Slytherin chasers. “Someone take care of them!” he calls, the annoyed tone in his voice rather apparent as he directs his gaze to Tegan and then to Riley, before turning it forward again.

“Let’s go and hunt some Ravens down!” says Sage, swinging her bat in the air as she mounts her own broom and takes off, following her teammates. Tahiri calmly follows suit, without Sage‘s vulgar and simplistic display of house spirit. As the Bludgers begin to be dispatched in the air, Sage nods to Tahiri. The communication between the two Beaters is going on smoothly. Understanding what is to be done, Tahiri flies toward the Bludger which is flying over the Ravenclaws stands. On the other side, Sage tackles the other Bludger, which she reaches quickly and sends towards the Ravenclaw chasers with a quick and precise swing of her bat.

Ashton Merck briskly mounts his broom as the referee’s whistle is about to be blown. His eyes focussed on the quaffle, his hands clinged to the neatly polished broomstick and his legs ready to perform a mighty kickoff. At least that’s what he’s thinking. “Let’s tear them into pieces!” he calls, not too loud, so that Keelan won’t hear it through the crowd’s buzz. Then he lifts off and heads for the quaffle, paying attention to Martin and Evan, not to interfere with them on their way to the red ball. As David catches it, Ashton slaps his broom and turns to chase David. Adalynn flies up in front of the hoops and watches the events on the pitch rather relaxed, until the quaffle is taken by the Ravenclaw. Now she is sweeping to and fro to be in the most appropriate position to intercept a scoring attempt.

Clavicle Gravely races up after Louis and tries to edge him away from David, and block the other boy’s approach. he pours on the speed with the Sandsweeper 25, the egyptian broom is elegant, and fast. His goggles reflect the light as he zips on up and towards David. “Where’s the bludgers?” he asks aloud as he zips on.

Tegan Madison is in the air before the sound of the whistle can die out, though she’s well used to Professor Walsh’s tendency to give the teams a small grace period before releasing the bludgers. Parting with Riley, the female beater grips her bat and suddenly looks a lot fiercer than she does, say, in class. As it is released, Tegan moves toward the bludger with a good deal of speed and with the crack of her Beater’s bat, sends it on a dead aim for the Slytherin Chasers, to break them up and away from her own team. Riley, on the other hand, moves himself toward the other, racing to get it before the Slytherin do–and he doesn’t, so now it’s a race to meat the bludger before it hits his teammates.

“Oh, we’ll see how things go, Harper,” Noémie comments to him, grinning, before she flies away quickly, only glancing over her shoulder for a moment at him, an amused expression on her face, before turning and flying downwards a bit, to better hear the action at least. After all, it would do her well to see what their mistakes are before they commence practicing for the Hufflepuff match.

Rhian says, “The Ravenclaw Chasers head down toward the Slythering Keeper, flying in formation to keep the Quaffle away from the Slytherins. The Slytherin Beaters have seem to have found the Bludgers, as they go chasing after them to send them after the Ravenclaws to try and knock them out of the air. The Ravenclaw Beaters have now moved after the Bludgers in order to intercept them from the Slytherins.”

“Don’t mind them!” shouts David out loud, hoping that his teammates would do their job and cover them from the threat of the bludgers. He is not aware, yet, of the bludger flying in his direction, and concentrates on trying to escape from the Slytherins. Ashton, in particular, is coming dangerously close behind. “Go ahead, you’re faster!” David shouts to Clavicle. If things are going the bad way –which would surely happen– David would then have an opportunity to make a forward pass to Clavicle. “Where’s Bailey?” he wonders to himself.

As Martin watches as bludger quickly approaches and swerves quickly out of the way while still keeping in hot pursued of David and the quaffle. Louis hovers nearby the Slytherin goalpost grinning like an opossum. “That we will Ribouet!” Not really much of a comeback, but in the heat of a match there is no real room for cheesy one-liners. Louis vaults down the pitch high above the game keeping his eyes peeled.

Rhian says, “Mildred passes the Quaffle to Gravely who continues forward toward Walker who seems to be getting ready to defend the Slytherin goals. The Bludgers narrow in on the Ravenclaw Chasers, which cased Mildred to pass the Quaffle before he possibly get hit. Harper takes a position up above the pitch, the usual position for a Seeker while Ribouet takes a lower position, seems the Captain wants to keep an eye on her team.”

Ashton Merck is still approaching David, not really knowing how to recover the quaffle from his opponent. “Come on, let’s get’m” he conjures his broom to race faster. A few seconds later he notices Martin on David’s other side. “Let’s go, captain!” Ashton shouts over, maybe trying to unsettle the Ravenclaw chaser a bit. Adalynn however is still prepared to engage in the events for the first time.

Of course, Bailey cannot hear what David says, and continues to fly wide, throwing his arm up in the air, and then swerving inward as they make their way closer to the Slytherin hoops. “Do something!” he calls to his teammate helpfully, before swerving out a bit more, looking from David to Clavicle, back again, and then forward at the slytherin keeper.

Rhian says, “The Ravenclaw Chasers continue to make their way to the Slytherin goals, closer to Walker who seems to be getting ready to defend her house’s goals. One of the bludgers narrow in on the Ravenclaw Chasers while the other one heads for the Slytherins in order to keep them from catching the Ravenclaws. Harper takes a position up above the pitch, the usual position for a Seeker while Ribouet takes a lower position, seems the Captain wants to keep an eye on her team.”

Clavicle Gravely suddenly bursts forward. There are advantages to being little more then skin and bones, you don’t weigh down your broom much. He zooms ahead from below and to the right of David, crossing in front of the boy so he can catch the forward pass that David hurled up. It’s just like practice, right over the shoulder. He pours on the speed as much as he can. “You go to the lower hoop. I’ll go to the middle. If I can’t make the shot, I’ll pass!”

Tegan Madison hovers for a moment, waiting to see if anyone will hit her bludger away from the Slytherin Chasers. Riley, on the other hand, swerves up on the bludger and sends it with all his considerable force flying in the other direction. True to form, it doesn’t exactly head toward, say, the Slytherin Chasers, but it might head up toward Louis. Or the bleachers. With an exclaimation, Tegan heads down toward the bludger to hit it toward Louis and not the crowd of specators. “Righ’, Markham, it really helps to take out portions of the crowd!” she calls somewhat irritably; Having had to bail out the mis-aimed ball, she’s lost track of the second bludger.

“Lower hoop!” David shouts to acknowledge the move, and the boy adjusts his heading slightly to go straight to the lower hoop, while still keeping an eye on Clavicle. A frontal pass… David would have only a split second to catch the ball, throw it, and break away, if he didn’t want to collide with the goal. But this is just like during the practices, isn’t it?

High above the game by now Louis turns as he hears the screech of the bludger coming at him full speed. Luckily for him he’s got quite a bit of breathing room. Louis does a sort of corkscrew on his broom and the bludger goes flying past him off into the air. “Yeah those bludger intensive practices really worked Sage!” Louis calls out to the youngest beater. Martin is now switching targets and flying for Clavicle at top speed coming up on him as fast he can until he is close enough to literally touch the bristles on Clavicle’s broom. Martin tries swipeing for the quaffle in an attempt to steal it away.

Ashton Merck is still following David, decreasing the distance rapidly and now flying at his very side, touching the Ravenclaw, trying to push him away from the lower hoop with a steady pressure, so that it would not look like a rough action and for the relief of Adalynn, who is getting ready, moisturing her lips nervously and with a determined look, covering the middle hoop, but always being alert to be able to change her position instantly. “Cover the lower!” she calls, adressing Ashton.

“Ah…” So that Ravenclaw beater got the bludger before her. Darting a somber look to Tegan, Tahiri pushes her broom forward in an attempt to catch the bludger before it could do any real harm. On the other side of the pitch, Sage is doing the same thing, and flies towards their chasers the fastest she can, confident that while the bludger would disperse the Ravenclaw chasers, she would only have to worry about the other one. A terrible mistake: she doesn’t notice Riley’s move immediately. Fortunately, Louis is capable enough to fend for himself. This give her the time to regain her bearings, change her direction, and go after the bludger, once again.

Clavicle Gravely makes a feint to the upper hoop from the middle, It would be a lousy shot. This is probably why he air brakes and sends a side pass to David, letting him go one into the scoring zone if he catches the pass. he hopes the sudden braking throws Martin off his tail. “Take the shot David!”

Stopping just outside the scoring zone, Bailey hovers, looking at his fellow chasers as they’re both covered by Slytherin chasers, and glances around. “Open?” he calls, waving his arms a bit and then looking down the field at the action. He does little else for the moment, save to fly around a bit, outside the scoring zone in his distance from the other chasers, though not out of scoring range, by any means.

Turning his waist slightly, David catches the Quaffle and pushes his broom forward, concentrating on the hoops. Entering in the scoring zone, he aims directly towards the lower hoop, and waits until the last moment to throw it. He hasn’t much time left, after that, to watch it fly and see if he has scored, and does a sharp turn instead to avoid any collision with the goal hoops or the goalkeeper.

Could that be, possibly, a glimmer of gold in the sky! Shocked that she’s spotted it so soon, Noémie tears her attention away from the pitch, though she does make mental notes as to what she has seen, zooming upward, moving quicker and quicker towards that little gold dot in the sky. The sun doesn’t help her vision as she works her way up into the sky, soon flying past Louis and still farther up, until from the stands, she is little more than a blue dot in the sky.

Spotting the snitch just as Noémie begins her ascension into the sky Louis is right behind her laterally inches away rising speedily into the air with the opposing seeker gritting his teeth trying with all his might to pass her. He only manages to get neck and neck as they both rocket toward the same object. Stretching one arm off of his broom Louis gets ready as they draw closer.

Clavicle Gravely air braking lead to a full stall. His broom drops, with him spiralling and flipping out of control. He turns the maneuver into a dive to regain direction, then he stops the barrel rolling, but the ground is racing up towards him. He pulls back. Heaving back on the broom to level out mere inches before the the ground makes a sudden stop to all his quidditch scoring dreams. “CRUMPLED HORN SNORCACKS!” he exclaims, but he manages not to ground plant himself. He tries to race back up towards the other hoops.

Stretching herself as well as the two of them make their speedy ascent still upward towards the small golden orb, Noémie‘s speed picks up to its top notch and she manages to speed just slightly forward, out-flying Louis by a bit and then reaching higher, her rear rising off of the broom itself. “Augh!” Noémie calls as she reaches just a bit too far over her broom and loses her balance. This, however, has not stopped her from capturing the tiny golden ball in her hand as she rights herself on her broom. A loud whoop is let out and she soon begins to zoom downard towards the pitch, her hand up in the air with the tiny ball clamped within it. It is several moments before she is close enough to be visible to those in the stands. Letting out another whoop, Noémie comes to a stop and dismounts her broom, still holding the snitch up. A second win for Ravenclaw!

As David isn’t really affected by Ashton‘s physical interference the Ravenclaw shoots at the lower hoop as he enters the zone and Ashton has to turn around hard not to break into it and cause a penalty. With a fierce expression on his face, he watches Adalynn zooming towards the quaffle. It seems senseless because the hoop is still far away and the quaffle sails through the ring as Adalynn is still approaching.

Missing the snitch only by a few inches Louis leans against his broom as it is all over looking terribly dejected. “We lost….. we lost……” Images dance in his head of the Quidditch cup going snitch wings and flying away. Louis shakes his head and descends to the ground. “Good job Noémie….. it was pretty close…”

Keelan Walsh curses under her breath, so that she can barely hear hereself, as she watches Adalynn miss the Quaffle. A whoop above her deepens the frown, and Keelan raises the whistle to her lips. “Game to Ravenclaw! 160 to 0.” That’s all she announces, spiraling down in a quick, frustrated way. As she waits for the balls to be returned (the bludgers tending to come directly), she smiles, weakly, at the players and murmurs something about a good game.

Rhian says, “What is this? Ravenclaw seems ready to score. The Chasers get in position to score, Walker moves to defend the goals and Gravely makes an attempt to score, but then stops just before entering the scoring zone, passing the Quaffle to Mildred. Foster is on Gravely’s trail and so Mildren catches it, entering the zone, he takes a shot to the lower hoop and Walker doesn’t manage to stop it. Ravenclaw scores! The score is now Ravenclaw – 10, Slytherin – 0. Of course, Gravely tried to plant himself in the ground because his broom stalled, but did just fine. Just a second, the Seekers seem to have found the Snitch! The two are neck and neck, getting closer and… it’s Ribouet that catches the Snitch. Ravenclaw wins! Final score is Ravenclaw – 160, Slytherin – 0. Now let’s get back to the castle where it’s warm.”

Clavicle Gravely manages a landing. After his powerdive, he looks a bit shaky. He’s nowwhere near as good at Airbraking as David is. He shivvers a bit. “I don’t think I will be trying THAT again without practice.” he grins a bit and waves “Good job Noémie!”

Putting her hand out to Louis, Noémie smiles widely at him. “Dashing chase,” she tells him. “It was really close. Thanks for keeping me on my toes, Louis,” the prefect tells him, her accent sliding just slightly into a french one, though her accent is usually delightfully English. “Good job, team! Practice, first thing tomorrow!” She strides over to Keelan and returns the snitch to the referee with a beaming smile, but not another word. Without another word, the captain makes her way to the Prefects bathroom to have a nice, long, relaxing bath.

“I scored?” says David, disbelief clearly displayed on his face, after his turn. He lands after the others, and runs to Clavicle with joy. “I really thought I wouldn’t be able to make it. I scored! I did score it.” he says. “Whoo! We only need to win against the Hufflepuffs, and the cup is ours!”

Tegan Madison gives a gleeful shout as David manages a score, and then actually zooms up a bit on her broom when she realizes Noémie caught the snitch. Her path to the ground is erratic, first a zoom toward Bailey and then a zoom far away, with a bit of a loop. They won again! “One more match to the win!” She’s in high enough spirits as she lands and dismounts, grinning ear to ear at the Captain. All the practice really paid off after all. Oh, she’ll be herself again later, but for now, Tegan is elated.

Clavicle Gravely grins at David and nods. “Excellent work Mildred. Good job. You have to show me how you do that brake maneuver though. I stalled it badly. Good thing she caught the snitch or I’d have been useless for the next score.” he grins a bit and looks at the stands “AUK AUK!” he grins then gives a salute to the Slytherin players.

Louis Harper shakes Noémie’s hand and tries very hard to be sporting about the loss. “You were a bit faster Ribouet.” He grins a little and comments in a sly tone. “I hope Alexandra is even faster in the next game.” What’s this? Louis seems dead set against Ravenclaw winning the Quidditch cup for some reason. “And she’s faster than me…. that’s a fact. Good luck Ribouet.” With that Louis turns strideing with his teammates back to the castle.

Frowning at the cheering going on at the Ravenclaw side, Sage shakes her head and lands, following the other members of her team. Tahiri is following closely, disappointment clearly visible on her face. “That’s too bad. Pure luck, I reckon.” says Sage, looking one last time at the Ravenclaws before walking away to the locker rooms.

Ashton Merck swoops down to the pitch in rage about the lost game, ploughing through the lawn considerably while breaking with his heel before jumping off his broom. His head glowing red and headshaking he smashes it down and kicks it away a few yards. “Good game.” he grumbles at Clavicle. Adaylnn has also landed and is walking up to her teammates, not accusing herself of a mistake.

Flying down to the ground, Bailey is oddly stolid. His face is steady as he makes his way down and then having gotten to the ground, inward to the school. No, Bailey‘s not much in a mood to celebrate at the moment. Well, mostly. A wide grin is given to Tegan, and then it is gone as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. Instead of hanging out, Bailey runs, quickly, into school. His destination is unknown to others, but for Bailey‘s part, there’s a secret nook, hidden away where he will soon be meeting someone special in that same nook.

Clavicle Gravely nods to Ashton. “Actually .. you guys looked on spectacular form.:” he nods. “I think if your broom was a touch faster, We’d not have scored at all. Your moves were superb. And your teamwork, excellent.” he admits to Ashton. “Better luck next time.”

With a loud cheer, Van flies down to the groud, beaming at all of her teammates. “Good game, everyone!” she calls to all the Slytherin, who may or may not even care that she says this. She trots off to put her broom away quickly, and then retreats into the castle, likely either looking for a certain Gryffindor seventh year, or on her way to her own commons for a party in celebration of their win.