It was a somber and subdued mass of students that sat at the long tables for breakfast. The shock and thrill of the
previous evening was gone, to be replaced by hushed whispers, furtive looks and grim faces.
Until Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat upon the dais at the center of the hall, and said in a clear voice, “If I may have everyone’s attention?”
Not that McGonagall ever really needed to ask anyone to listen to her. But in this case, instead of the usual gradual die-down of chatter, all heads turned to her immediately.
“The events of last night are not the worst this school has ever experienced,” continued McGonagall. “They are, however, likely the worst any of you have ever experienced. I lay the blame fully upon myself, for being so long and often away from this castle, such that whatever fiend is behind this might have seen us vulnerable.”
Many of the students nodded at this.
“You have my word,” continued McGonagall, “that as long as I am here, I will do whatever is within my power to protect you all.”
At this, many heads turned in Sparrow’s direction, causing her to shrink a little in her seat.
And McGonagall was looking in her direction as well. “As for the magical and political aspirations that may have provoked this incident, I cannot comment on their practicalities.”
Cannot comment. Oh, that was a politician’s answer. Professors Budge and Clearwater beside McGonagall were both raising their eyebrows.
“What I can tell you is that while I have all confidence in Miss Jones to stand in your defense, I would like to remind you all that you are a castle full of Wizards, and that you are very well able to stand in defense of each other, if the matter comes to that. What marvelous shield spell Miss Jones has devised, you yourselves might learn, if you are able and willing. You are students, after all, who I trust are studying.” She gave the crowd a significant look, at which many looked sheepish, though there were almost none such at the Ravenclaw table.
But then many seemed to realize the implications of what McGonagall had said about Sparrow, and they were looking her way with eager eyes.
“I am only sorry that it has come to this,” continued McGonagall. “As for what your parents will think, I am sure their fearful and angry responses will soon arrive on the wing. I will be stressing to them all that I have told you. I will not be recommending that they pull you out of school, though if any of you should wish, it is not my place to stop the decisions you make with your families. Though from what I have heard of your responses the previous evening, you all seem more inclined to band together than scatter.”
There were many nods at this, and jaws set, fists clenched, arms crossed, hands held. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables between them had no students looking fearful.
“Then let us be on each other’s guard,” said McGonagall, “in determination, not in fear. Our primary mode of communication was attacked last night, but we will not permit this terrorism to silence us. We will stand together. Are we Wizards or are we mice?”
The first thing Sparrow could think was that such a question could not be rhetorical if it were coming from a master of transfiguration. But her thoughts were drowned out by a massive cheer from the Gryffindor table, followed shortly thereafter by the Hufflepuffs, then the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws in turn.
“Very good,” said McGonagall. “Now at last, you may tuck in.” She sat back in her seat, looking weary.
And so began the morning’s feast, with many students on either side of Sparrow asking after her shield spell. Which particulars she found herself unable to answer, because, as she was learning the hard way, wolfing down solid food after being on a liquid diet for a month meant that she was very quickly horking up all her food back onto her plate.
It was not a very good look for an ostensible Brave Defender, but at the very least it bought her some time to avoid speaking aloud the truth, which was that she still hadn’t really figured out how her shield spell worked. And then Jill was buying her more time and space, draping an arm over her and telling everyone else to please leave her alone for the morning, as she waved a wand to vanish the mess. This request caused many to shift their questions to Jill, asking if Lady Brave would be as valiant in their defense as Sparrow.
Sparrow was glad as well, this morning, that the rest of her friends, sans Jocasta, alas, had chosen to sit across the table from her, buying her a little more space. Though Cormac and Violet found themselves answering inquiries regarding their seeming closeness with The Mighty Sparrow, which was causing them some visible consternation. Miranda, by their side, was not so much fielding questions as giving people a cold look and daring them to speak to her, which none did.
Everyone’s attention was mercifully distracted by the appearance of Jocasta out of thin air. Immediately people scooted to the side to make room for her to sit beside Jill. She daintily set herself down, then leaned past Jill and grinned at Sparrow. "Having fun?"
Sparrow swigged
her pumpkin juice to clear the taste of vomit. "At least it’s
a fair warning for the rest of you," she growled, and she
elbowed Jill. "You get that, honey? I know you like to put away
a lot."
"I am hungry
like the wolf," said Jill, as she devoured her remaining plate
of scalloped potatoes.
So Sparrow had
been distracted from her ruminations, at least for the present
moment. But of the fellow sitting across the table from her, that was
a different story – Cormac had mostly been picking at his food,
even as he laughed with the rest. He and Violet, sitting pressed
together, were clearly holding hands below the level of the table.
Sparrow wondered if they’d ever stopped.
Nor, indeed, did
they cease to hold hands as they departed the table early, leaving
much food upon their plates, enough so that, as Miranda and Jocasta
stared after the two with odd looks, Jill took the opportunity to
filch their untouched sausages. Well, whatever those two were dealing
with, they certainly weren’t forthcoming with it. Which was, on the
one hand, understandable, Sparrow knew two people who were much the
same. And on the other hand, if it was leading those two to beetle
off without giving any indication of where they were going, well,
this was a pirate – privateer – crew, and that wasn’t going to
fly. "Midshipman Brown," said Sparrow, "where away?"
Violet halted, and
turned to Sparrow with an incredulous look. "Please tell me
you’re not going to actually lean into that."
"Arrrr,"
said Jocasta.
"Yarrr,"
said Jill.
Violet turned to
Miranda with a pleading look. "Miranda, please tell me you’re
not –"
"Ye said
‘aye’ with the rest of us," said Miranda. "Yer part of
the crew, matey."
Cormac
chuckled. "We’re just going to the library as usual. See you
all there. Ye swabs."
They all had a good laugh among them at that,
and Sparrow’s spirits were lifted a bit more, for the moment.
Still, as they
all sat in the library with Violet and Cormac, studying the
history of magic, Sparrow
could not shake her curiosity. For Cormac’s eyes had glowed with
everyone else’s. Something
was in his past – something as painful as anyone’s, something
stifling him, binding him, pressurizing him into leaking magic like
the rest of them. Something
to do with memory charms.
What it was beyond that,
Sparrow hadn’t any opportunity to ask at the library table, focused
as they all were on the Goblin-Elf war of 2025. Nor did she feel it
fitting to simply barge into Cormac’s mind with her questions.
So it was only until later in the evening, as
Cormac and Violet sat by the fire of the Hufflepuff common room, lost
in their studies, that Sparrow felt the time could be right to
approach.
She marched up to them, and they did not even
look up from the books in their laps. And then she faltered, not
quite sure what to say. "H-hey."
Violet glanced up at Sparrow, and waved a hand,
before returning to her book.
Sparrow tried again. "What are you two
studying this late?"
"Ancient
runes," said Cormac, finally looking up. "What do you need,
captain?"
Sparrow stood straight as an arrow and snapped
a sailor’s salute. "Ahoy there, matey! Thar she blows!"
She lost her rigid pose as she giggled. "Batten down the
hatches! Hoist the turnbuckles!"
Violet snorted. "At least you’re having
fun."
"But seriously," said Sparrow. "I
got stuff I want to ask you, Cormac. Can we talk in private?"
At this,
Cormac and Violet exchanged glances. Violet glared at Sparrow,
raising an eyebrow. "You want
to drag my partner
away from me, is that it?"
Sparrow winced. "Not exactly in those
terms?"
"We’re probably just going to dig up
buried treasure," said Cormac. "Don’t worry, dear, I
don’t think Sparrow will maroon me."
"Just don’t walk any planks," said
Violet, returning to her book. "Or, in your case, drag him into
any secret alcoves."
"I’m not Jocasta," said Sparrow. "I
am even more sexy. Come on, Cormac, let’s find a quiet
corner somewhere." She beckoned Cormac to follow.
But Cormac, as he stood, nodded to the common
room’s exit. "Got a better idea."
…
They had said nothing to each other on the
journey up one staircase and another, for all that Sparrow might have
wished to ask her questions immediately. As much as it was possible
to create a moving muffling charm, that took effort, and getting up
all these awful staircases was work enough, especially when they
moved and put the two on a longer path. And Cormac didn’t seem to
have anything to say, even in regards to light topics. Nor would he
say exactly where he was leading Sparrow; it was only that they were
climbing and climbing, and that was that.
It was only once they’d committed to the
seventh floor, and Sparrow had realized they were going around in
circles, that she felt she could say anything. "The Room of
Requirement? Seems a bit much, really, we could have just used my
own...okay, not strictly my own dorm room, I have to remember I’m
sharing with two people who could pop in at any time."
"And we can guarantee nobody will barge in
here," said Cormac. He strode down the south corridor once more,
coming to a halt before a door that hadn’t been there on the last
pass. "After you Captain." He opened the door and held it,
graciously gesturing for Sparrow to enter.
The Room of Requirement was, as ever, good at
reading people, for while Sparrow had not wanted to ask for more than
a couple chairs to sit down in, the chairs within the cozy little
room were high-backed comfy armchairs, soft and inviting, and they
sat before a roaring fire that was the only light. Perhaps Cormac had
been hoping for something resembling the Hufflepuff common room to
soothe his nerves.
He gestured for Sparrow to sit, before he in
turn set himself lightly down in the other chair, not settling back
as he kept his eyes on Sparrow. "So then, my friend, what
troubles you?"
Sparrow spluttered. "Wait, hang on, what?"
"You wanted to speak to me alone,"
said Cormac, "and I assumed it was because you had personal
matters you only wanted to talk about with a very old friend. Clearly
its’ personal enough that you wouldn’t even want my partner to be
involved. Though speaking of partners, I oughta ask if you’ve
talked with Jill and Jocasta about whatever’s eating you. Seems
like they’d need to know before me."
"No!" said Sparrow. "No, no,
Cormac, I’m so sorry, I’m doing this for you."
Cormac frowned in confusion. "Say what
now?"
"You did the eye thing," said
Sparrow. "The – the glowy eye thing. Twice. Something to do
with being threatened with memory charms, each time – but you
didn’t say anything about it when we all had our meeting with
Blaise and the dragons, so maybe you don’t want to talk about it
after all, but I thought maybe if we could talk in private you would
feel safer to speak."
Cormac harrumphed. "Sure. I always feel
better with you around, I’ll tell you that. But you also know what
it’s like to be able to talk about personal stuff with a partner,
and I’ve already talked with mine about what brings me
down."
"Ah," said Sparrow. "I see I’ve
been doing a lot of presuming here."
"Don’t sweat it," said Cormac.
"Just let me bring them in on this, they’ve got stuff to tell
you about too and this is actually a better location than the common
room." He closed his eyes, and breathed evenly. Sparrow could
see an orange glow peeking out from the line where his eyelids met.
Which, when she thought about it, was possibly something they all
needed to get a handle on, if it was an obvious tell that they were
using their weird psychic abilities. If they even could. Magic based
on the idea of high-pressure power leaking through the cracks in
one’s own soul did not seem like the sort of thing that would lend
itself to precision and discretion.
Cormac remained silent for some time. It left
Sparrow to wonder exactly what he’d been on about, calling Violet
his partner instead of his girlfriend. They’d certainly been
partners in academic study for a while now, and now partners in
invention – as well as intimate, as far as Violet was actually
willing to take such matters? But that did not bear intrusive
speculation upon, certainly not in such a serious moment.
Cormac at last opened his eyes. "Right. On
the way, and I revealed where the room is and all that."
"Alright. So what exactly is Vi –"
"Up bup bup!" said Cormac, waggling a
finger at Sparrow. "That’s the issue at hand, I’ll leave it
at that."
Sparrow frowned in confusion. "Okay...this
all just got even weirder. But whatever." She pushed herself
forward off the chair, and knelt on the floor, spinning to rest her
back against the front face of Cormac’s chair, leaning sideways
against Cormac’s legs. "I can wait for answers."
Cormac harrumphed. "What’s this about
now?"
"Figured it was more comforting,"
said Sparrow. "Instead of, you know, sitting in a huge fancy
chair before the fire, looking like I’m some old patriarch trying
to get you to marry my daughter, or something."
Cormac chuckled. "Or something. Maybe Count Dracula trying to sweet-talk poor Mr. Harker."
"Could do with something less formal in
here," said Sparrow. "Maybe a couple beanbag chairs."
She looked up to the ceiling hopefully.
"I don’t think this place can change
once you’re in it."
Sparrow giggled. "We could do with a
million galleons!" She held out her palms and looked up to the
ceiling with puppy-dog eyes.
"Now that’s not something you even
need," said Cormac, with a grin in his voice. "Especially
not in this complete mess of a world. What the hell do people use
their galleons for these days, when the muggle economy is minimal?
But I guess we’ll be getting involved in the answers in a few
years, thanks for that by the way."
"We can get involved deliberately or have
it all fall on us," said Sparrow. "Your choice."
The door creaked open. There stood a familiar
witch – and yet, subtly different now. Maybe it was something about
the firelight and the shadows. But Violet seemed to carry herself
differently, perhaps more confidently, or with more determination –
Sparrow recognized that sort of setting of the shoulders, she’d had
to do it so many times.
But even more so, when the girl stood before
the fire, and did something Sparrow had never seen her do – she
produced a hair tie from her pocket, and tied her long curly lavender
hair back out of her face, and for the first time, Sparrow could see
that the girl’s features were slightly more masculine than she’d
realized.
And, as Sparrow glanced at Cormac, she could
see he was grinning from ear to ear.
"Let us speak of my own matters first,"
said the lavender-clad witch, and sat before Sparrow. "To begin
with – What did you think my name was?"
"Vi –"
"Nope."
"Rumplestiltskin."
"Ooh, so close yet so far."
"It is a cultural reference of a kind,"
said Cormac, unable to hide the mirth in his voice.
"Well how the hell am I supposed to know?"
said Sparrow, and she crossed her arms in defensive petulance.
"Finnegan?"
"There’s one thing about that
that’s right," said Cormac.
"Is it something from Dickens?" said
Sparrow. "Lady Haversham!"
Both her friends shook their heads slowly.
"Getting colder," said Cormac.
"Uuuuuuugh!" Sparrow put her face in
her hands. "Stop with the cryptic shit and tell me."
"Iphis," said Iphis.
Sparrow raised her head. "I don’t think
I get that reference."
Now it was Iphis’ turn to facepalm. "There
are different sorts of nerds, it seems."
"Just put it more bluntly," said
Cormac. "Like you told me."
Iphis sighed, looking back up at Sparrow.
"Alright. Look. You remember back in January when you said that
your tits were toast if you stepped out the castle doors?"
Sparrow nodded vigorously.
"Well, I’d like it if someone burned
mine clean off. Because this entire business of human transfiguration
requires a small amount of will constantly in order to maintain,
thereby dragging my own magic down, and I can’t keep it up for more
than ten hours at a time. I’m getting better at it but – if I
could figure out something permanent, I’d be less tired at the end
of each day." At Sparrow’s look of bemusement, Iphis
continued, "I can put it even more plainly. As annoying as I
found the matter, you were correct to call me a midshipman.
Or...perhaps cabin boy, at my age."
"Wait," said Sparrow, "hang on,
I think I get it now." She looked at Cormac and jerked a thumb
at Iphis. "He’s your boyfriend."
"Partner," said Cormac.
"In crime," said Iphis.
"And love," said Cormac.
"And study," said Iphis.
"Same thing when it’s you," said
Cormac.
"Oh shit," said Sparrow. "That’s
why you hate going home to the muggle side of your family, when you
can’t do magic there. Because it feels horrible for months."
She grimaced. "Yeah, I can see how you’d be looking for other
solutions. Old Muggle surgeries –"
"Sadly long out of practice nor possible
with current standards of cleanliness," grumbled Iphis. "My
motivations for complaining about the dying of the light of Muggle
science were...more selfish than I let on."
"Permanent human transmutation then?"
said Sparrow. "I mean, I wouldn’t call it selfish, just, like,
understandably self-centered about yourself? Except...hang on."
Her mind flashed back to a conversation from many months earlier.
"You said something about wanting Wizards to reach the stars.
Permanent transmutation would help with that, wouldn’t it? You
wouldn’t have to worry about sourcing potion ingredients in space."
Iphis nodded.
"Then it’s not selfish at all,"
said Sparrow. "You want to make it easier for you to go on
expeditions for the sake of humanity."
Iphis raised an eyebrow. "Unless I simply
wish to loot artifacts from distant planets? And keep them in my
private collection, never for anyone else to see, while I gain the
knowledge of the heavens and leave all the world in ignorance."
"Oh yeah?" said Cormac. "You’d
manage that for half a day before you broke down and started telling
everyone about everything."
"Seconded," said Sparrow. Then a
thought came to her about a conversation from recent weeks. "Wait.
Miranda is in on this transmutation stuff with you. Is she...she must
be, of some sort." Sparrow winced. "Did we just out her by
accident?"
"Our fates on this matter are
intertwined," said Iphis. "She knew that for one of us to
come out would be to out the other. I would not have given you the
truth without her permission."
"And...how long have you been working on
this with her? How long have you been stuck in the closet?"
Iphis met Sparrow’s eyes, a solemn gaze. "How
long have I been oddly visible to you?"
"Since the first time I saw you. Oh my
God." Sparrow sat up from where she lay against the chair, and
moved to kneel before her friend. "Iphis, I am so sorry. All
this time you were keeping yourself stifled under wraps. Was it all
for the sake of your muggle family at home?"
Iphis looked pained. "It was all for
perfectionism, I fear. I had not even begun to truly learn
transfiguration at that point. I refused to reveal my true nature
until I could achieve the appearance I desired, or at least approach
it as closely as I could. One might call it cowardice –"
"I ain’t one who would," said
Cormac. "You were only going to come out when you were
comfortable, that was your call. ‘Cept to me for some strange
reason." He batted his eyelashes at Iphis.
"From the outset I could tell you wished
to be learned," said Iphis. "You wished to understand fact,
and the truth of the world, without flinching. I knew that with any
topic you would be curious long before you would be judgmental, if at
all. I’ve always been comfortable around you. How could I not trust
you with anything and everything?"
Cormac’s pale cheeks flushed. "Well, uh.
Golly. I mean gee whillikers." He chuckled nervously. "You
make a fellow feel special."
"Likewise," said Iphis. He rose to
his feet, and, moving to Cormac, took his hand to draw him to his
feet. The two of them embraced, then, resting their foreheads against
each other, eyes closed, light shining out from the lines of their
eyelids.
For a few minutes there was no more sound but
the crackle of the fireplace, flames dancing merrily, the wood not
burning down at all, as Sparrow watched. She looked back at her
friends, who were still entwined, still locked in that silent
conversation.
She
coughed, softly, hoping that might be enough to catch the attention
of either of them. But they did not move. Sparrow cleared her throat
a little louder. Still nothing.
Giving
up on gentility, She gave a rather pointed ahem,
which finally caused the both of them to raise their heads. They
blinked, as if awaking from a dream, and they both laughed, slapping
each other on the back, before turning to Sparrow. "Sorry,"
chuckled Iphis, "I guess there’s risks to this psychic
business, isn’t there?"
"I’ve
noticed," grumbled Sparrow. "But speaking of comfort.
Cormac, are you okay to talk about your own problems, now that we’ve
got Iffy here?"
Cormac
raised an eyebrow. "You thought of that nickname without my ever
telling you. Well, great minds think alike. And talking of minds."
He took Iphis’ hand, and led him to sit down at the fire with him,
beside Sparrow. "Talking of minds."
"A
precious thing," murmured Iphis. "A terrible thing to
waste, a tragic thing to lose – our most powerful tool, as
McGonagall said, and a keen mind is the most dangerous thing of all,
for from a mind comes all weapons, and all ways of wielding them."
"It
is all of who we are," said Cormac, as he stared into the fire.
"Though, if you consider the ghosts, it might not be all...just
nearly all. If you consider the dementors...certainly they’re
sucking away something that isn’t mind."
"The
other critical component, perhaps," said Iphis. "Which no
science of ours has yet clarified."
"But
as for mind," said Cormac, "What does it mean, that we can
go up to someone and just...erase bits of theirs?"
"It
means we are erasing bits of them," said Iphis.
"No
better than dementors," said Cormac. "Worse, really. It’s
not...illegal, or even frowned upon, to use memory charms. No revenge
allowed." He hunched his shoulders, and slouched before the
fire, as if under a pressing weight. "When McGonagall...when she
proposed to deal with us by erasing our memories. She
was threatening the destruction of far more than she knew."
“What
do you mean?” said Sparrow.
Firelight
danced in gleaming eyes. “Sparrow. Would you like to guess what my
name
is?”
“Rumplestiltskin.”
“Much
as I consider spinning straw into gold, no, that is not it. I will go
easy on you and give you a hint.” The sound of a singing bird
filled the room, a sweet warbling whistle.
“Wait,”
said Sparrow, “I’ve got it. Wren!”
Wren
laughed. “Good work.”
"I’d
recommend you be called Robin," said Sparrow, tousling Wren’s
hair, "if only because you’re a ginger. But my sister is
already named Robin so that’s taken." She gasped. "Wait,
does this mean –"
“Let
me tell you something about myself,” said Wren. “As I have slowly
come to understand, there are three things that matter most to me: my
learning, my work, and my friends. Gender doesn’t even fit into the
framework. Gender, I can put on and take off like a hat, but I am
throwing it off now. I won’t tell you what that means for my body –
I will handle that for myself. I will build myself, as I build all my
trappings and tools.” They grinned. “Maybe I’ll build some
wings for myself.”
“As
long as you don’t call yourself Icarus. You’re
not just doing wands, then?”
“I’ve
got so many plans,” said Wren, their eyes gleaming. “Wands are
one. I could do magical bracelets or necklaces or –”
“Getting
back to the main issue?” said Iphis.
Wren
coughed. “Right, right. Memory charms and all – I have come to
understand this matter about myself more fully over the course of a
year –”
“And
you didn’t want to tell me?” said Sparrow. “Me of all people!
Come on! And you already know I took meeting Blaise in stride!”
“I
wasn’t certain until a month ago!” said Wren. “And then we got
roped into this OWL business and got all busy and – and we’re
still busy but I can’t sit on it any longer. That egg must hatch!
Tweet
tweet chirp!”
“But
if the memory of many months is erased,” said Iphis, “or even the
memory of a year, and then replaced, with whatever nonsense the
memory charm comes up with – that egg might have sat for far
longer, eh?”
“That,”
said Wren. “And.” They put a hand over Iphis’. “I would lose
the time in which you came out to me, time in which I came to stand
with Sparrow’s cause, time in which I first delved deep
into the details of craft…time in which I have
tried to come to terms with that which I have lost."
"Lost,"
said Sparrow. "You mean your home back in Chicago? But you can
go back there right?"
Wren’s
eyes flashed orange. "Physically? Sure. The House of the
McKinnons remains. Socially? Home is gone."
"But
–"
"There
are parts of the story I didn’t tell you back at the Dragon Tower,"
said Wren. "Parts
that were...too painful to reveal to any of the adults. I wouldn’t
talk about this with Filch, or Longbottom. Not even sure I wanted
Blaise to hear it. I gave you the sugar-coated version."
Sparrow
put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. "Go on."
Wren
took a deep breath. "When Granny sent me away...she didn’t
just send me away."
"What
do you mean?"
"What
we learned from trying to re-establish contact with home," said
Iphis. "Last September. We sent an owl to a HAM radio operator
in Inverness, asking her to send a message to Johnny Clay in Chicago,
asking how he was doing. The response we got back from Johnny was
that he had asked around, but nobody knew anyone named Cormac."
Sparrow
gasped. "She didn’t."
Iphis
nodded slowly.
"It
must have been for their own safety," said Wren. "Probably
to keep any of those Goose Islanders from catching on to who’d
wrecked their shit. You know? Keep a war from starting."
"As
far as we know," murmured Iphis.
"I’m
so sorry," breathed Sparrow.
"I
oughta be," said Wren. "It’s my fault, after all."
"Dear,"
said Iphis, "we’ve been over this –"
But
Wren’s eyes now glowed bright orange, brighter than fire. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ I WAS FOOLISH, I WAS RECKLESS, I WAS HEEDLESS, I GOT MAGIC INVOLVED. I GOT MYSELF CAST AWAY, TORN FROM MY FRIENDS AND TOSSED INTO A STRANGE AND STIFLING LAND. ∫∫∫∫∫∫
≠≠≠≠≠
WREN,
FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, IF I’VE TOLD YOU ONCE I’VE TOLD YOU A
HUNDRED TIMES, IT WASN’T YOUR DECISION TO SEND YOU HERE. YOUR
GRANDMOTHER COULD HAVE EXILED YOU TO THE MEXICA, OR SOMETHING ON YOUR
OWN CONTINENT. I HAVE HALF A MIND TO THINK SHE WAS USING YOUR SLIPUP
AS AN EXCUSE. ≠≠≠≠≠
But
evidently Wren was not listening, for their eyes remained aglow.
Sparrow felt the air in the room growing a touch warmer and more
humid, as if the place was slowly becoming a sauna. She moved to
kneel between Wren and the fire, the oppressive heat sure to sear her
backside if she did not get this right – she stared into Wren’s
blazing eyes, holding their gaze.
There
was something in those eyes, some faint figure dancing like flame.
Sparrow took a deep breath. ⋄⋄WREN.
⋄⋄
∫∫∫∫∫∫
SPARROW?
∫∫∫∫∫∫
⋄⋄ YOU
CONSIDER WHAT YOU HAVE LOST, AND WHAT YOU COULD LOSE AGAIN. BUT TELL
ME, WHAT HAVE YOU GAINED?⋄⋄
∫∫∫∫∫∫ I
HAVE GAINED GREATER LEARNING, AND GREATER UNDERSTANDING OF MYSELF.
∫∫∫∫∫∫
⋄⋄ AND? ⋄⋄
∫∫∫∫∫∫STEADFAST
FRIENDS.∫∫∫∫∫∫
⋄⋄ AND? ⋄⋄
∫∫∫∫∫∫ STEADFAST
LOVE.∫∫∫∫∫∫
⋄⋄ LEMONADE
OUT OF LEMONS, DEAR FRIEND. BREATHE EASY NOW. YOUR LOVE IS HERE WITH
YOU. ⋄⋄
The
glow in Wren’s eyes at last faded. Sparrow hauled herself away from
the fire before her rump was roasted. "There," she said,
"see, it’s at least cozy here if it’s stifling, right?"
"And
as for your love being here," said Iphis, "So is mine. May
we never be parted." He flipped his hand up to clasp Wren’s.
"My best buddy for study."
Wren
released Iphis’ hand, choosing instead to scoot close to him and
throw an arm over his shoulder, leaning upon him. "My partner in
everything."
Sparrow
sat a little farther from Wren, out of the direct heat of the fire.
"Can we get back to the part where you two sent an owl to a
random muggle and violated the Statute of Secrecy?"
"Oh
like you care about breaking the law," said Wren.
"I
care about getting muggles involved before we’re ready," said
Sparrow. "You could have risked their memory getting
erased."
Wren
hung their head.
"We
need to be working on a better solution," said Iphis. "Something
that doesn’t risk innocent muggles. Maybe – hang on." He
rummaged around his pocket and drew out a book-sized Wireless. "Maybe
if we finally get this thing working we can figure out how to get it
to transmit an SSB signal, like a proper HAM Radio, for once."
"Yes
please," said Sparrow. "For God’s sake, take that poor
Muggle of the loop before they get got. And as for people’s
memories getting wiped, I think we’re going to need to have an
all-hands-on-deck meeting as soon as possible to decide on our
course." She rose, and stretched. "Things are going nuts
faster than I expected."
"You
were warned to expect an avalanche," said Iphis, as he rose in
turn, taking Wren’s hand and dragging them to their feet. "No
sense wasting a good night though. Come, my dear, let’s...have some
fun." He led Wren toward the door.
"Wait,"
said Sparrow, causing the two to halt and look back. "Iphis, if
this is a matter of asking after the matter of permanent
transmutation, you ought to be able to ask McGonagall if she can
help, right? Hasn’t she already got mad at us for leaving her out
of the animagus thing? We can’t keep insulting her by forgetting
her expertise."
Iphis
grimaced. "I’m not out to her yet."
"Wha
– then how – aren’t you getting help from Madame Abbot with all
this, then? With potions and stuff?"
Iphis
shook his head. "Potions come from Miranda."
"Never
met a better potioncrafter anyway," said Cormac.
"Not
much opportunity to find any other," said Iphis. "And yet…"
He gazed at the fire, with a faraway look in his eyes. "I could
live all the long long years of a Wizard, and still find none better,
and this is all with a few short years of knowing her." He shook
his head rapidly, tearing his eyes away from the fire. "Ah, she
wouldn’t be comfortable with me talking about her like that, would
she."
"Okay
fine," said Sparrow. "What about Jocasta? She already asked
you –"
"And
I already said no, it’s too advanced and too risky."
Wren
snorted. "Come on. Too advanced for the transfiguration
princess? Now you’re insulting her.
Maybe both of you can learn this shit together. Teach each other. You
know?"
"And
get Miranda on board," said Iphis. There was an eager gleam in
his eyes. "I...certainly would not mind playing the teacher for
part of this."
"This
is assuming you want to be out to Jocasta yet," said Sparrow.
"Um."
Iphis looked nervous. "She did help me learn the
temporary-transfiguration trick this year."
"So
you are out to her, then."
Iphis
shook his head.
"What?"
"She
just said transforming was cool." Iphis shrugged. "Didn’t
ask any other questions."
Sparrow slapped her forehead.
"That’s
what I did too," said Wren.
"And
you!" said Sparrow. "What about you, are you going to keep
hiding your name like it’s a nest way up in a tree?"
"I
have ideas about how to come out," said Wren. "I will let
you know when."
"Fine!"
said Sparrow. "Whatever! As if this day couldn’t have any more
twists! How should I be referring to you two among the public, then?
Should I just say Iphis is Cormac’s Girlfriend?"
"Humph,"
said Wren. "Maybe I want to be the girlfriend."
"Oh
no you don’t," said Iphis. "My turn. You get to be the
boyfriend."
"But
I was the boyfriend last time," said Wren. They pouted.
Sparrow
giggled. "Oh my goodness, it’s boyfriend and girlfriend, but
they switch! Who is who, and which is which?"
≠∫≠∫≠ WE ARE ONE. ≠∫≠∫≠
Sparrow stumbled backward, as the two departed.