Early morning, as
Sparrow blinked awake. Grey light through the window. Not a dawn
worthy of the name, but there were few enough of those in this
season. Still, her mornings were better than they had been in all her
life, for to wake up enfolded in the arms of
her loved ones was to know that, whatever happened, she was not
alone.
And besides which
it was quite a comfortable position. Tempting to linger there, most
mornings, as long as Jill would linger – ah, but until the
lightning storm came there was work to be
done at dawn. Sparrow gently lifted Jill’s arm off her midsection
and struggled upright, picking up her wand from where it lay on the
dresser next to the Fetching Stick. Sparrow and Jill’s wands now
rested with the Fetching Stick between them, a parallel that had
Jocasta asking who, in their own arrangment, was the dog. She had
decided that Sparrow was a cute little puppy.
Well. Perhaps that
would be Sparrow’s animagus
form, whenever the ritual finally came to fruition. And in the
meantime, there was the spell to recite. Amato animo
animato animagus.
A tiny jolt in her chest, as the magic took hold. And that was that
task completed, and now, Jill’s embrace called to Sparrow once more
–
But there was yet other work that could
only be done now, must be done now, could not wait another moment.
Sparrow sat herself down at her writing desk, rolled out a bit of
parchment, dipped her quill into the ink bottle, put quill to
parchment – Mother, Father, sister, brother, so much has
happened and I have failed to inform you of any of it. There was
always more than enough to fit in a letter, and now too much. We must
meet in person as soon as you are able. I will attempt to arrange
something on my end, let me know if you can think of anything
yourself.
Stay a healthy
distance from anyone involved with the Ministry. Don’t make waves.
I love you. I am so sorry I have been silent.
– Sparrow
She nearly smudged the ink in her haste to blot it, then she rolled
it up and shoved herself away from the desk, scrambling to dress as
quickly as she could without waking Jill and Jocasta – she silently
thanked ancient school traditions for requiring a uniform, it made dressing so simple.
She cast a muffling charm over the hinges of the door for extra
caution, then pulled it open and departed, creeping down the steps,
out of the common room door, into the hall – where was the way to
the Owlery on a Wednesday? Left-hand corridor on the third level and
up another flight. Right.
It was one of the advantages of Sparrow being an Early Bird – har, har, har – that she could make her
way through the corridors at an hour when almost no one else would
even be half-awake. Such as, for example, all of the portraits gently
snoring in their frames. Whoever had enchanted them to be that
similar to the humans they depicted had left a security gap wide
open.
Ghosts, on the other hand, did not sleep. Rather famous for causing
trouble all night, as a matter of fact. So when Sparrow found herself
at the door to the Owlery, she was startled into nearly shouting
aloud before clapping a hand over her mouth, as the ghost of Argus
Filch floated right through the wood.
He grinned. "Heh. One thing I never got to do when I was alive.
Almost makes me enjoy being dead."
"So now you’re a prankster," hissed Sparrow. "You’ve become what you fought
against."
Argus shrugged. "Small potatoes."
"Are you going to dock me more house points for being out of
bed?"
Argus gave her a Look. "Small potatoes."
"Seriously?"
Argus rolled his eyes. "It’s not a forbidden corridor, and
your elders probably applaud your chipper morning attitude. I
could be a stickler for the rules and say you’re out-of-bounds with
your curfew. But I’ll be nice." He grinned, showing teeth.
"I kind of have to get this done," said Sparrow. "But
– it might be a weird thing to ask because Hogwarts ghosts don’t
usually have to deal with dementors, but like, are ghosts vulnerable to dementors? Because you’re made
of soul, or something."
"Made of regrets," said Argus. "It’s like bringing
coals to Newcastle. Dementors feed on happiness."
"So...if I asked you and the ghosts to keep an eye out for
dementors…"
Argus raised an eyebrow. "They’re come around here again, eh?
Oh, I remember decades ago, the Ministry brought those things
here...the kids were tense and suspicious the whole year, they were.
It was beautiful." He sighed. "Happy
times long gone."
"Gonna be tense again as shit gets worse," muttered
Sparrow.
"Don’t tease me with a good time," said Argus. "But
alright, alright. Just for you, I’ll...ask Sir Podmore and his gang to keep watch."
"Thank you." Sparrow bowed.
"Whatever." Argus floated through Sparrow, leaving her
shuddering for a second, before she cast another muffling charm on
the Owlery door’s hinges and stepped through.
Only to find that every single owl was perching as high as it possibly could, way out of the reach of
any witch who didn’t yank it down with magic. The last thing Robin
wanted to do was be rude. "Here owl owl owl," said Robin,
yet not a single owl moved. "Blast," muttered Robin, "are
you all on vacation
or something? What the bloody hell is this? We need to be able to get
some kind of communication out, you know." Yet for all Sparrow’s
entreaties, she found no owl willing to come to her. Sparrow shoved
her parchment back in her pocket and stomped out of the owlery in a
huff.
††††† SPARROW?
†††††
⋄⋄ SORRY SORRY, I'LL BE WITH YOU IN A MOMENT. ⋄⋄
But "a moment" proved long enough to be embarrassing, as
she made her way back to the common room, for the staircase she
stepped onto decided it would shift to connect to the fourth floor,
this time, instead of the second floor. A marvelous means of
confusing intruders, oh sure, but if anyone ordinary needed to get
somewhere quickly, they might be better served by –
Jumping off the staircase and casting ascendio alternating
with arresto momentum. As Sparrow landed on the ground floor
and hurried forward, she wondered if an intruder wouldn’t
just think of that, after all.
Back through the common room door and back up to her dorm room and
back under Jill’s arm without
remembering to remove her uniform.
"Sparrow," murmured Jill. "What were you doing? Where
did you go?"
"Trying to send a letter." Sparrow yawned. "Trying to
get it in early. Trying to contact my parents. But the owls snubbed
me. Maybe I was too late in the morning."
"And here I thought you’d just decided to get the showers
early." Jill shifted a little. "Hmph. Might as well.
Probably better to get there before Jo here offers to shower with
you."
Jocasta grinned, eyes still closed, as she rolled out of Jill’s
embrace. "Now that’s part of next year’s curriculum."
"Curriculum." Sparrow giggled. "You really are a sex
nerd."
Jocasta chuckled evilly. "You will learn, little bird." Her
eyes snapped open, instantly fixed on Sparrow. "You will
learn."
Sparrow trembled, as Jocasta rose, and rose further, looming over her
and Jill. "Oh my dear Jill," Sparrow quavered, "my
brave Lady Knight, save me from this fiend!" She threw her arms
around Jill.
Jill’s eyes opened, and she cried in mock terror, wrapping her arms
around Sparrow. "Oh my dear Sparrow, my steadfast shield, save
me from this wicked witch!"
Jocasta descended upon the two and – covered both of their faces
with kisses, as they giggled and squealed. "There," she
said, "I have captured you, my pretties." She dove for
Sparrow’s neck and grazed the girl’s skin with her teeth. "Perhaps I shall turn you, and make you
mine."
Much as Sparrow shivered with delight, she was not wholly satisfied –
not until she sat up, cupped Jocasta’s face in her palms, and –
Jocasta grinned. "Go on then, we’ve much time to make up for."
Sparrow plunged Jocasta into a deep kiss, one that had Jocasta
squirming and Jill laughing. Jill gave Sparrow a soft kiss on the
cheek, making her feel warm all over. But it was not the manner of
kiss she had been expecting. She met Jill’s eyes, which were now
sadder than before. "My dear," she said, "where are
your fiery kisses of before?"
"Do I dare indulge?" said Jill. "And burn you out? I
must restrain myself, my dear. Be content with what I can give you."
"I can certainly make up for the deficit," said Jocasta,
lunging at Sparrow once more.
And somehow, despite waking up early, the three of them were nearly
late for breakfast.
…
Most days would have been spent studying what books they could find
in the library, and perhaps practicing in some place that would be
free and unbothered that day. Today they’d set aside for practicing
potioncraft with Miranda. So, once again down into the dungeons, and
perhaps this time it wouldn’t be embarrassing.
Although, as Sparrow saw Percival Bulstrode lingering around one of
the doors near their chosen empty classroom, there was some cause to
wonder if the day would not turn out to be annoying. Especially
since, as she and her crew drew near, he gave Sparrow a look like
he’d been waiting to say something,
"Go on," she muttered, "I’ll handle him, it’s
probably political shit."
But as everyone else entered the empty classroom, out from behind
Percival stepped Inigo Aguirre.
"Well met," she signed, "and I am surprised to see you
without Belladonna and Johnny. What business do you have with...this
tall fellow here?"
Percival chuckled, and signed, "Please, little bird, I know my
signs."
"So he can pick up on people trying to slip messages silently,"
signed Inigo. "He says." He rolled his eyes. "Look at
me, I’m a big scary conniving schemer, I can read you like an open
book, better watch yourself."
"Not answering my question," signed Sparrow. "What’s
the deal here?"
"You never gave me your answer about the slug club,"
signed Percival. "But in the meantime, my young friend here had
the idea that you could –"
"Teach them sign language?" signed Sparrow.
The two boys nodded.
"Great minds think alike," signed Sparrow. "So when’s
the next meeting?"
"Tonight," signed Percival.
Sparrow felt the blood drain from her face. "Do you – do you
want me to start tonight? I never managed to put a lesson plan
together, busy with a lot of other stuff, I’m really sorry. Are you
sure you can’t wait until the next meeting?"
"It’s only once per month," signed Inigo. "We’re
already beyond halfway through the school year, and I – people are
still muttering about trying to fix me and I’m getting
kind of scared."
⋄⋄ DAMN THEM, I THOUGHT THEY WERE LISTENING TO ME. ⋄⋄
"Most of them perhaps," signed
Percival, "but then, it only takes one, doesn’t it...and if
people believe you’re on a high horse and lording it over them,
there’s always more than a few who will deliberately neglect
anything you say. You did establish a rather high-handed reputation
at this school."
Sparrow winced. "Guilty as charged."
††††† SPARROW? WHAT IS THE MATTER NOW?
†††††
Sparrow jumped.
"Gotta rush," she signed. "Tonight, right? I’ll be
ready."
"Seven of the
clock," signed Inigo. "Good luck, and thank you very much."
Sparrow barely
even had time to sign a goodbye before she dashed into the classroom.
…
The potion they
had been practicing was Draught of Peace, the which Sparrow’s mind
was not fully on, preoccupied with how to even teach the subject of
sign language. And, as well, the presence of Miranda, which was more
intense than ever – not least because she was their teacher for
today, and unmerciful in her assessment of
their work. Nobody’s work was what Miranda would consider worthy
of an "outstanding" grade, or even an "exceeds
expectations", at least as the Ministry assessors were likely to
judge the work. Jocasta, Wren and Iphis’ potions certainly exceeded
Miranda’s expectations – they were just the right color, only
lacking in the proper consistency and aroma. Jill’s, slightly
darker than it should have been, Miranda was willing to say was at
least non-toxic.
And Sparrow’s
was...a bubbling mess of black sludge left over after
half of the mixture had turned to vapor in a moment, when Sparrow had
been drumming her fingers on the table thinking of lesson plans. So,
at the very least Miranda didn’t have to come around and go "tut
tut", when she was already shaking her head sadly from the other
side of the room.
"What do we
all think then?" said Sparrow. "Second attempt? Now that we know what we did wrong?"
"I would need
to requisition more Lacewing Flies," said Miranda. "Which
take a certain amount of time to breed, it’s not even the right
season yet, Professor Longbottom needs them, our supplies from
Hogsmeade are currently cut off...not exactly a good time to try
again."
"You’ve got
to have some substitutes in that greenhouse of yours," said
Jill.
Miranda threw up
her hands. "Oh, what a pity that the magical field disintegrates
plants and insects that attempt to pass through it! It’s almost as
if someone set it up that way, to avoid contaminating the magical
environment with invasive species. What a shame."
"Environment’s pretty well hornswoggled
already," said Wren. "But you’ve also got those seeds
down in the basement ready to go whenever, so whatever, not gonna
push it. Might as well try the potioncraft more when we’ve saved
Hogsmeade. I’d rather be in the library doing research anyway.
Who’s up for history of magic?"
The answer being
everyone, which surprised Sparrow, at least until she considered that
anything would be more interesting if someone besides Professor Binns
was teaching it. Such as, say, Iphis. And speaking of which – oh
rats, he and Wren were about to head out the door –
Sparrow caught
Iphis’ sleeve. "Little help?"
Months ago, Iphis
might have given Sparrow a stern look at this behavior, and perhaps a
cutting remark. But now he only smiled faintly. "I suppose I can
do what I can. Go on then?"
"Lesson
plans," said Sparrow. "Kinda of a rush, I’m teaching sign
language to the Slug Club starting tonight, you’re a better teacher
than me. Can you come and save my sorry hide?"
Iphis sighed. "I
have no desire to be around a majority-slytherin crowd. They...tend
to say things that hit me fairly hard, though they would not know
why, as I am not out to anyone but my own friends here.
I think if you meet them, you will come to understand why I find them
grating. Why you chose to teach them, instead of, I don’t know, the
Hufflepuff quidditch team, I have no idea. But I’m not a
Gryffindor, I don’t have to
be brave. So."
"Also, seven PM," said Wren. "Really bad timing."
"Don’t remind me," said Iphis through gritted teeth.
Sparrow coughed. "Dare I ask –"
"It’s when my transfiguration spell tends to wear off,"
growled Iphis. He sighed. "Look, just, don’t teach them like I
started teaching you, alright? Don’t say a damn word, it’s the
wrong way to do it. Immerse
them. Throw them into the deep end of the pool. Put those stuck-up
social climbers on the back foot for once."
"Do it for him," said Miranda, from where she remained at
her personal cauldron. "And do it for me."
"Rather
have those types on my side," said Sparrow. She glanced around.
Jocasta had gone, and Jill was now lingering in the doorway, reaching
a hand out to her.
But
– Sparrow turned back – there was Miranda, at her cauldron, and
there were questions for her, questions that could only be asked
alone. Sparrow turned again to Jill. ⋄⋄ I'LL BE ALONG, DEAR. DON'T WORRY, I'LL MISS YOU TERRIBLY. ⋄⋄
Jill giggled.
††††† WHEN DO YOU NOT? NO DIFFERENT THAN ME. DON'T BE LONG, LOVE, I MIGHT BE PINING AWAY. †††††
⋄⋄ YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO CUDDLE JO EVEN MORE TO MAKE UP FOR ME. ⋄⋄
• GET A ROOM, YOU TWO. •
Sparrow and Jill laughed, and Jill departed,
leaving Sparrow to turn back to Miranda – and to the girl’s
annoyed expression, as she was vanishing the residue in each
cauldron.
Sparrow winced internally, realizing that
everyone else had left without cleaning anything up. She moved around
the tables, sweeping salvageable ingredients back into containers,
vanishing the material that could not be saved. Miranda took notice
of this and raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing, and Sparrow
said nothing in turn.
Until, after they had finished storing the
cauldrons, Sparrow gently patted Miranda on the shoulder, causing the
girl to whirl around. "Yes?" she said in a clipped tone.
"What is it then?"
"Just wanted to talk," signed
Sparrow, "in a manner of speaking."
Miranda frowned. "This way?" she
signed. "Does something bother you so much you can’t talk
about it aloud? Is this about your worst nightmare?"
"It
might be about your
worst nightmare," signed Sparrow. "If you have one. But you
must, you did the eye thing, you tossed
ice at the fireplace,
your magic is leaking like everyone else’s...I thought, this is a
quiet way to talk. Discreet. Confidential."
"Oh
really."
Miranda shook her wand out of her sleeve, pointed it at a couple of
chairs, and wafted them over to her and Sparrow. "Sit."
Sparrow sat. "We’re
doing this now?"
"Did you not want to?"
"I mean, we ought to be studying after
all, I was going to suggest arranging something." Sparrow
sighed. "Assuming you even want to say anything? You didn’t
want to, back up in the Dragon Tower. You know what, I shouldn’t
have even asked. I’m sorry." She rose to leave.
Miranda dragged her back down to the chair.
"Incorrect," signed Miranda. "I am glad you asked. I
appreciate that I can entrust you with my secrets. I just didn’t
say anything in the Dragon Tower because there was no way to say
anything without outing Iffy, especially in front of Filch."
"That’s
fair." Sparrow hesitated, before signing, "Whatever’s
hurting you and stifling you then...do I even
need
to ask? Kinda seems obvious when I think about it."
"There’s more to the tale than whatever
you could piece together," signed Miranda. "But, you are
correct, we have studying to be getting to, and this is certainly not
the right place, even with your precautions for confidentiality. So.
Whenever you get done with the Slug Club, call on me, and I’ll tell
you where we’re going."
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "Surprise,
huh?"
"Dramatic
flair,"
signed Miranda. "Come on then, let’s be about our business."
She rose, and Sparrow followed.