After dinner — during which I did not spot a single unhappy face at the Hufflepuff table — I headed to the library to finish off a not particularly interesting but obligatory book from the Restricted Section reading list. There was sothing else on my mind as well, sothing I hadn't thought about in so ti but had been expecting for months.
The connection with the storm dinsion had begun to make itself known. It was, one might say, unsettled — entering the final stage of formation. Since the elven shard had never previously worked with an energy so multifaceted, whose effects and expressions could manifest across quite a broad range of phenona, precise predictions about possible external influences were difficult to make. The fact of this mild unsettlent — if that's the word for it — was entirely normal in itself. The energy wasn't breaking through anywhere, wasn't surging outward, nothing of that sort. But it was, in its way, blending more actively with my native neutral energy and the cultivated Life energy, and trace amounts of energy always circulate through the body or even extend beyond it, forming one's magical background.
This effect is precisely what allows many enchantnts and my artefacts to function. All magical creatures radiate, certain powerful phenona radiate, everything around us radiates magic. But there is also an effect sothing like reverse induction in a coil — though it's not quite the sa. A wizard is a conductor; magical energy is the current; and that current produces a particular responsive reaction in the world. Subtle, and often so slight it cannot be asured.
What had occurred to now, however, was that sowhere nearby there was a creature with a comparable storm energy — and it was radiating powerfully, since the beginning of my storm connection's final formation had coincided with the clouds in the sky. I couldn't have summoned so much as a light breeze myself, but a resonance between two sources' responsive world-reactions was entirely possible.
Why doesn't sothing similar happen when large numbers of wizards are gathered, all radiating their neutral magic? Well — that's precisely why it's called neutral. It represents everything in the world in equal asure, and the list of natural phenona, chanisms, and assorted nonsense that could theoretically respond to it is essentially endless — quite unlike storm. Which ans that for even a marginally perceptible world-reaction to neutral energy, you'd need an absurd concentration of it within a small volu of space. In which case you might — might — get an extra spark in a torch fla. Nothing more.
By the ti these thoughts had run their course, I'd finished the book. A Tempus charm told I ought to be making my way to the extra Potions lesson, and I didn't drag my heels — I shelved the book, left the Restricted Section, then the library itself, rembering to bid Madam Pince a respectful farewell. She, for her part, was entirely indifferent to the courtesy — she was simply glad I hadn't damaged anything.
Arriving at the dungeon classroom door, I knocked out of habit, though the door was already open and Snape was seated at his desk in his customary fashion, working through a stack of parchnts, rolls of essay, and the rest. As always, he gave a nod indicating I should take my place. As always, Daphne was already there, already seated, ingredients laid out for both of us in separate small cups, boxes, and jars. Dependable as ever. I was grateful not to be the sort of person who craves constant stimulation — soone like that would have found the monotony genuinely unbearable.
— Recipes on the board, ingredients before you, — Snape said, and a pair of complex, multi-stage recipes appeared rapidly on the board behind him. — Begin. Don't interrupt with minor questions.
Daphne and I set our cauldrons over the flas and set to preparing the first ingredients.
— Congratulations on your first successful match as Keeper, — Daphne said, with a slight smile.
— Thank you. It was an interesting experience.
— I noticed. As did others who were paying close attention. You seed to be sowhere else entirely.
— Yes, it turned out to be genuinely absorbing.
— And I, for my part, finally put your gift to its proper use.
— And? — I turned slightly to better see Daphne's expression.
— Extraordinarily useful. I'm almost sorry I spent so long only playing with it. Now I haven't the slightest doubt that I can manage an idea I've had involving runes.
— I'm glad the gift suited you. Any plans for tomorrow's outing, incidentally?
— I leave that question entirely to you.
— Does it not seem to you, — Professor Snape raised his eyes from his work, — that the two of you communicate in rather too formal a manner?
— We like it this way, — we answered simultaneously, then looked at each other and smiled.
Snape said nothing to this — only the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Barely ten minutes later he had finished marking and moved on to his preferred pasti: pacing back and forth beside us, looming silently over the cauldrons, and generally making his presence felt in the most irritating way possible — further developing the already considerable immunity to external irritants that both of us had cultivated.
At the end of the lesson, I walked Daphne to her common room and returned to ours — where the celebrations were already in full swing. Noisy, with food and drink, crackers evidently having been set off, confetti still drifting in the air. A thorough effort to shut out all possible concerns of the outside world.
The victory celebrations took up what remained of the day. Quidditch may not be a truly significant feature of Hufflepuff life — many of our students have their own magical pursuits and passions — but a win is a win, even in Hufflepuff, and the common room humd with noise until nearly one in the morning, with not even the younger students being sent off to bed. The first and second years, to be fair, were beginning to nod off by midnight on their own, the mont they looked away from the general noise and food and drink — the various fruit juices and fizzy concoctions from Hogsade.
The celebration itself was loud and cheerful. People enthused over the players' performance, congratulated the players themselves, and I was not exempt from this — not letting a single Quaffle through, sending long, fast passes from the posts, that sort of thing was considered impressive. Many had worked out that my play at the hoops had allowed our Chasers to spend far less ti shuttling back and forth across the pitch trying to protect and the hoops, giving them more ti and freedom to position themselves on or near the Ravenclaw half. The Beaters, anwhile, could concentrate on the opposing Beaters — they had no need to try and knock out attacking Chasers, since I'd protect the hoops regardless.
By Sunday morning, many of the older students were not at their best, having allowed themselves a little too much at the party. Wizarding alcohol may be sothing special, but it remains alcohol, with all that entails. Over breakfast, however, most had recovered, and the prospect of the Hogsade trip ahead revived everyone's spirits entirely.
We gathered as always in the courtyard just before the gates leading off the castle grounds. I found Daphne quickly — she was with Pansy, near one of the arcade columns, speaking quietly and exchanging the occasional laugh. As were many of the other girls, broken into groups by interest. Walking toward them, I noted that neither was wearing a robe, nor any variation thereof. Autumn coats — quite different in colour and cut, but coats — scarves, gloves. Nothing, in short, that would mark them as witches unless you knew to look for it — unless you caught so small magical detail, like certain trim of finely worked dragonhide.
Seeing this, I found myself smiling involuntarily, reminded again of the chaos that could ensue when wizards were asked to dress like Muggles — the bizarre assemblages of mismatched clothing, the ones who tried to track down ordinary fabric from ordinary materials, which more often than not ended up looking wrong in ways they couldn't identify. All one had to do was dress according to one's own sense of style, without a robe and, naturally, without the pointed hat that so wizards were extrely attached to. McGonagall, for instance.
— Good morning, — I smiled.
The girls noticed and returned the greeting with light smiles.
— Morning.
— Morning, Granger.
— A little adventure, or simply a walk through Hogsade?
— I have the feeling, — Pansy adopted an expression of theatrical suffering, drawing smiles from both Daphne and , — that there is simply no corner left in Hogsade we haven't already seen. Honestly? The sa sweets in Honeydukes, the sa silly jokes in Zonko's, the sa assorted trinkets... Entirely useless, all of it.
— You're a devotee of the pragmatic approach, then?
— How else, Granger?! Things ought to serve a purpose — not just charms for charms' sake. One thing's the schoolwork... though the dancing pineapples still visit in nightmares, haunting with their uselessness until I wake in a cold sweat...
Again we were smiling at Pansy's expense.
— ...and quite another when they sell this sort of useless nonsense. And do you know what the truly terrifying part is?
— I imagine we're about to, — Daphne offered.
— You most certainly are. It makes money. rlin's beard! — Pansy raised her hands to the heavens in righteous outrage, to no particular effect, save that we all looked upward at the clouds, which weren't giving the sunlight even a fighting chance.
— Adventure it is, then, — I said.
— Students! — Professor Flitwick's voice rang out, which was unusual — McGonagall normally oversaw these excursions, but the duties of Acting Headmistress had evidently consud her schedule entirely. — Over here, please!
Spotting the diminutive professor was no simple task, and he knew it — Flitwick had levitated himself, having apparently set his own shoes to hovering in the air.
In loose ranks and clusters, we set off from Hogwarts along the path toward Hogsade. One or two Aurors were visible in the distance, though after what I'd witnessed of one of their number's treachery, the local law enforcent inspired rather less trust in than it might once have.
On reaching the village, the stream of students broke apart into smaller groups, and the three of us ducked into an alley where no one could see — aided by a light Notice--Not charm.
— Right, — Pansy looked first at , then at Daphne. — How exactly are we getting... wherever we're going?
— The Hog's Head? — Daphne offered logically.
— No, thank you. I've had quite enough Hog's Heads. Granger...
— Yes?
— You're supposed to be clever. Think of sothing... reasonable.
— Reasonable, you say... — I paused for a mont, though mostly for effect.
The I-phoenix draped himself in a simple Notice--Not and transported himself shalessly straight from my room, alighting on my forearm. Heavy creature. And enormous.
— What the bl... — Pansy startled badly, clapping a hand over her own mouth. — Oh, what an unladylike person I am...
Daphne, too, was plainly surprised, and her wand appeared in her hand almost before she'd thought about it — but she put it away almost imdiately, seeing no alarm in my manner.
— Hector, — a mild reproach in Daphne's voice, though she was smiling. Tensely, just slightly. — When exactly were you planning to ntion the unusual phoenix?
— Next sumr, when the bird is fully mature and can do everything he does without any difficulty.
— Is that so? It's just — this is very... unexpected.
— Unexpected? — Pansy stared at Daphne as though she'd said sothing extraordinarily foolish. — This, my dear, is not unexpected — this, Mordred take all who displease him, is a phoenix. Why is it black?
— African? — I looked at Pansy with an expression of perfect innocence.
— Ha. Ha. Ha. Seriously?
— How would I know? He ca out that way. The important point for our purposes is that he can travel anywhere. Take hold of my arm.
Daphne took the hand I offered without question, gripping it firmly. Pansy, seeing this degree of trust, shook her head, then smirked and gripped my hand in one of hers and Daphne's in the other.
— Miss a chance to experience phoenix Apparition firsthand? Not in a lifeti.
— Then — off we go.
The I-phoenix drew us all into his unique form of Apparition, and the next mont we were standing in the middle of a small London park. A quiet spot, not heavily frequented in the mornings. The phoenix vanished at once, and the girls looked around. Our arrival had gone unnoticed — the I-phoenix had cast Muggle-Repelling Charms on us before the jump.
— When the magical village has lost its charm, there is no better redy than a walk through ordinary London.
— It's been a long ti since I was in London, — Pansy said, an expression of nostalgia on her face that sat unusually on her features, and took a deep breath. — Ah, that unforgettable sll of exhaust fus...
— Well then, — Daphne smiled. — You've surprised .
I had indeed decided to arrange a small outing — through the finest parts of London, the beautiful ones. The tourist attractions, one might say. Let's see whether we could find sothing worth experiencing.
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