Chapter Four - Felix Felicis
Although Allen and I haven't officially agreed to meet in the Room of Requirement the day after Halloween, I make my way down there at 4am, fairly certain that he'll be there waiting for me. I arrive and see immediately that I am correct. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he jokes as I seat myself on the table, and I smirk at him.
"All that glisters is not gold." I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs. His laugh is loud, harsh, and sudden, like a firework tossed into a silent room - it has a way of startling people, no matter how many times they've heard it. I, as always, jump when I hear it - but then I laugh too, both at my own joke and at how ridiculous I feel, startled every time I hear my best friend laugh.
"Right, right. Sometimes it's Felix Felicis! Think you could brew up some of that, some time?"
"Not for free - that stuff is better than gold, my friend." I punch him on the arm affectionately. He mockingly stumbles several steps, laughing again.
We joke around for a few more minutes before he asks the question that I know he's been thinking of this whole time: "I guess you and I both had the same thought about coming here, eh?"
"Yeah. I was thinking about the troll last night. How do you suppose it even got into the school? Aren't they really, really stupid?" I glance at him.
He shrugs and leans back against the table, blowing his too-long bangs out of his face. "Damned if I know. No way it could be an accident, though." He pauses. "You heard how they rounded it up?"
"That bit didn't reach me. Care to share?" I lean in attentively.
"Yeah, yeah…" He reaches up and tries to scrape his bangs out of his face. They've fallen back over his eyes again within two seconds. He growls his frustration before starting to talk. "Well, apparently some first-year girl from my house, thought she was clever enough to take on the troll on her own, snuck off and went looking for it."
I roll my eyes. "You're sure, now…that Gryffindor is the house of the brave…and not the suicidal?"
He fakes a punch in my direction. "Just shut up. I'm not responsible for the mental ones in Gryffindor, I speak for myself!" he scolds me before clearing his throat and continuing. "Well, apparently she was a friend of Harry Potter's. So he and some other first year went running after her, trying to stop her…and he wound up saving her a** by knocking out the troll with its own club."
I stare at him blankly. Then I burst out laughing. "That's a proper tall tale if I ever heard one!" I gasp around my laughter, "Don't tell me you believe that! A couple of first years take on a troll on their own, pah! I know Harry Potter survived against you-know-who, but he's still just a first-year student, an eleven-year-old kid - he's not a friggin' god!"
He rolls his eyes. "I heard it from Prudey, if that means anything."
"And the Weasel-Prude heard it from who, exactly?" I'm still laughing at this point. "It's bull if you ask me - some teachers probably caught them, and whoever that first year was didn't want to look stupid so she made it up."
He rolls his eyes. "Say what you want. Potter isn't just some first-year, he's Gryffindor's new seeker, I'm telling you - " He suddenly slaps his hand over his mouth. But I heard him.
"What? Harry's the new seeker? First-years aren't even allowed to try out for the team. How does that happen?" I grin slyly at him.
He stares determinedly at the wall.
"Alright, don't talk. But tell ya what, let Ollie Wood know that I'm open for negotiation, he should make me an offer before Nina does."
Allen looks like he just bit into a vomit-flavored bean from a bag of Bertie Bott's. He stares at me incredulously. "Nina's been a bad influence on you." he sighs at last.
"I'm kidding, Allen." I nudge him. He laughs again, and I almost fall off of the table.
"That's a relief! I was about to say, 'Is this really Elia, or has Nina somehow gotten ahold of some Polyjuice Potion?'" He shakes his head. "You win this one. Touché."
I giggle, attempting to regain my composure. When will I get used to his laugh? Six years as his friend and I still jump every time. Once I've gotten my composure back, I prop my chin in my hands and ask my newest question: "So seriously? Potter is the new seeker?"
"Yeah, Fred Weasley said something about an incident during the first flying lesson, didn't go into detail. But apparently he's really something on the Qudditch field...a real natural, they're saying."
I nod. "Better not let Nina find out...she'll pull the same thing she pulled on you, with some other poor clueless soul...and she'll go down in history as the girl who poisoned the boy who lived."
He snorts. "And most of the other members of the Quidditch team, at some point or another."
We end up sitting around in the Room of Requirement, just hanging out together, for the next couple of hours. It feels like it's been forever since we just kicked back and had fun like this. Life has been moving far too quickly lately, and it seems like between making illegal potions in secret, keeping up with the curriculum in our N.E.W.T.-level classes, and the chaotic start our year has gotten off to, we haven't had much time for just enjoying ourselves. Allen and I haven't gotten to spend time together like we used to, and our friendship has started to feel less fun and more business-like - and I've missed the fun we used to have together.
Allen is in the middle of a joke about two goblins, a Muggle, and a clumsy Dark Wizard in the Leaky Cauldron when he checks his watch and breaks off. "Hey, breakfast's gonna start in a few minutes. We should head down to the Great Hall." He pauses. "Don't...tell Nina about Harry Potter being the new seeker...please?"
I nod. "You can count on me." The first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor vs. Slytherin - is coming up soon enough. Whatever she doesn't know she'll find out when he steps onto the field. But I'll keep it quiet, both out of respect for Allen's wishes and out of a secret desire I carry to see Slytherin lose. I'd kind of like to see Nina's face when Slytherin gets clobbered, too.
Allen sighs with relief. "Good! You won't tell the Ravenclaw team either, right?"
"I won't. Not that it'll make a difference." I laugh. "First match is Gryffindor against Slytherin. Whatever advantage you've got from keeping it secret will be long gone by the time Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw rolls around. The thing is, it's the last match of he season, so we've got time to prepare." I lower my voice. "Wish you guys luck. And tell the team that your Ravenclaw pal is rooting for them."
He smirks. "You're as eager as I am to see Slytherin go down, then?"
"Gryffindor hates Slytherin. Ravenclaw hates Slytherin. Hufflepuff hates Slytherin. Hell, even Slytherin hates Slytherin - in Nina Javeris's case, at least." I put on a high-pitched, obnoxious voice to imitate Nina. "Like, oh my god, can someone please just kill all the Slytherins that aren't me? They're conceited, vain, self-centered bastards! Can someone poison the food that goes to Slytherin one night, and warn me so I won't eat it? I'd do it myself but if they saw me not at the table no one would touch the food, everyone knows how much I love poisoning people I hate!" I brace myself, preparing for Allen's laugh. It still causes me to jump - it's louder than usual, if that's even possible. Next thing I know, he's doubled over, howling with laughter, and has to grab my shoulder so as not to hit the floor.
He finally regains control over himself and straightens up, wiping tears from his eyes. "Alright." he grins, "I'll pass it on to Ollie. He'll let the team know."
"Thanks."
He smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulder. "Alright, then. Come on, let's head to breakfast."
He moves to start for the door, but I put my arm out in front of him. "Wait. There's something I wanted to talk to you about. A couple of things, really."
He frowns and lets his arm drop. "Alright..." He leans against the door and faces me. "What's up?"
"A few things." I have to stop for a moment to figure out which one to address first. "Well, first...I wanted to tell you...I am going to stop taking the Evigilo Mors. I don't know how I'll do it, or where I'll stay while it runs its course...but we can figure that out. I am going to stop. Will you help me?"
He stares at me blankly for a moment, as if trying to process what I said. Then his face splits into a broad grin. He swoops over to me and grabs me, hugging me so enthusiastically that he doesn't even seem to realize my muffled protests as he lifts me right off my feet. "Of course I'll help you!" he shouts in excitement. "I was so worried you weren't going to...of course I'll help you. Whatever you need, you can count on me."
"Great, Allen...please put me down?" I gasp.
"What? Oh!" He releases me and stumbles back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry about that, El, I get a bit, you know..."
I raise my hand. "Your excitement gets the best of you, and you forget to slow down. I know." I pause. "But there's something else..."
He nods. "I'm listening."
"Help me find out who my mother really was." I'm surprised by how firm my voice sounds when I speak. Inside I am shaking. But on the outside I am hard as stone, determined, ready to face whatever may come. "I didn't want to look for it, at first. But if I don't know the truth, I'll just keep being scared. I'll keep speculating forever. If I don't know, in a way, it's worse than finding out that the truth is something horrible."
He stares at me, every trace of smile vanished from his face. His expression is solemn, worry tinged with wonder. And when he speaks, his voice is low, his words slower than they normally come. "You're sure, Elia...that's what you want?"
"Only if I'm not alone in it. And I know I can trust you to help me." I look him dead in the eye, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice.
He surveys me silently for a moment before responding. "Alright. I'll help you find the truth. I promise."
Relief tugs the corners of my mouth into a smile. "Thank you."
He smiles. "What are friends for?"
We stand there in silence for a moment, smiling, before he speaks again. "You know, I think that Brett and Nina might be a good help in this one, too. If anyone will understand what you hope to accomplish it's Brett - we all know he loves truthfulness. Sometimes a little too much. But in all seriousness, his family works for the Ministry, he knows how to search their records and such. He could probably be a big help with this. And Nina...she's got the kinds of skills that I think could be really helpful in discovering something that others are trying to hide. Digging up secrets and then auctioning them off is her hobby, y'know?"
I chuckle. He's right. But..."How do I even explain this to them?"
"Well..." He grins slyly. "Do they need an honest, in-depth explanation? Or do they just need to know what you want from them, and why they should do what you want?"
I roll my eyes and smile. "That's true. I can tell Brett that I never got to meet her and want to know more about her, since she's my mom and everything. And Nina will do anything for the right price."
"Right. So..." He stretches and yawns. "Shall we be off to breakfast? You can probably take it up with them later today. Meet me here at midnight and tell me how it went. Need a comfortable place to hang out and talk and not be caught or overheard, alright?"
"Alright." I smile. "Let's go."
---
I approach Brett later that day. He's on his way to the Quidditch field for practice - being one of the Hufflepuff team's Chasers - and seems a bit distracted. He's muttering under his breath, something about flight formations and underhand passes, and is visibly startled when I say his name. Once he's recovered himself, he smiles. "Hi El. What's up?"
"I wanted to ask you a favor." I begin, "Don't have to do it now, I see you're on your way to the field, but I would appreciate if you could take me up sometime soon."
"Tell me what it is, if you can walk and talk at the same time. I'm going to be late." He picks up his pace, and I hurry to keep up.
"Alright. So, you know my mother died giving birth to me, right?" I say.
He nods, only half-listening. "Yeah, yeah. I do."
"Well, I never got to meet her, never knew much about her, never even saw a picture of her really...I was wondering if you could help me find out more about her. You know, since I never got to meet her and all?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"I know your family does record-keeping for the Ministry of Magic." I am very careful in my choice of words. "If you could pull a few strings and help me get access to her file, that'd give me a good place to start."
He nods. "We can talk more later. I've gotta get to practice, there's a lot of training to do before our first match in a couple of weeks. Playing against Slytherin, you know how that is. And we've all been given leaflets on how to avoid being poisoned by Javeris before the game. She's always pulling something, that b***h." His speech is even faster than his stride. I'm barely able to understand what he's saying. At that moment we reach the Quidditch field. He yells back over his shoulder, "But we will talk later, I promise! I'll do what I can!" and promptly disappears into the locker rooms.
I smile. Brett doesn't like lying, so if he's promising that he'll help me, he's going to do it. He won't back down. He never breaks his word.
As I start walking back to the castle, I feel relieved that I'll have Brett's help. But at the same time, I feel nervous. What can I offer Nina that she'll be willing to help me for? Do her charms homework? No, for something this big, she'll want more than a one-time favor. I'd need to do her homework for a year, or...
I stop dead in my tracks. It hits me at that one moment. I know exactly what I need to offer her.
I want the truth, and so does she. I'll offer her one truth in exchange for another.
It's risky, definitely. If Nina were offered a good price by someone else, there's a fair chance she'd let the cat out of the bag.
But I'm going to gamble on this one.
---
After dinner I follow Nina out of the Great Hall. She appears to be on her way down to the grounds when I catch up to her. "Hey, Nina! Come with me, gotta show you something."
She turns to look at me and grins mischievously. In the wake of Halloween, her hair is bubblegum-pink, and her purple lipstick and glasses chain are back. "I dunno, Elia..." She crosses her arms as she turns to face me. "What's in it for me?"
I lean in to whisper in her ear. "We're gonna have to go to the Room of Requirement, we need a safe place to talk without being overheard. As for the answer to your question..." I pause for dramatic effect. "I'll give you the full truth about what Allen and I do in there. And I've got a job for you, if you do it I'll give you the recipe to the invisibility potion up-front and the recipe to the Polyjuice Potion if you get something good off of it. Trust me, this is a good investment."
Her turquoise penciled-in eyebrows disappear into her bangs. "Color me intrigued now. You've got a deal. Let's go."
We've made two rounds in front of the room when she stops. "Out of curiosity. Why are you offering me the truth about you and Allen? You know I sell secrets."
"Well, you'll be the only one who knows other than him. If someone finds out I'll know it was you. And there's too much at stake here for you to sell me out. It's not in your best interest to betray me when you've got the use of the Polyjuice potion and all future payments from me on the line." I grin. "You may be selfish, deceitful and conniving, but you're not stupid. I know for a fact that you're smart enough to keep your mouth shut."
She smirks. "You know me well, Elia. And don't look down on those of us who put benefit before honor. We tend to reap the finer things in life, more so than those who try to look out for those on the bottom."
"We'll see about that." I sneer. And with that, we make our final pass. The door materializes, and we both enter quickly.
The room looks the same way it did when Allen and I met in here, when he confronted me with his worries about me. The couch in the middle of the room, the walls lined with Dark Detectors. The Sneakoscope starts blaring the moment Nina crosses the threshold into the room. She glares at it. "Oh, shut up, you." she says, "Elia knows how I am. Don't start sounding the alarm, she's well aware of it without your help."
I roll my eyes. "Move over." I tell her and whip out my wand, pointing it at the Sneakoscope. "Silencio!" I say, and the Sneakoscope continues to spin and flash red, but in mute. I grin at her. "What's the story?" I nudge her in the ribs with my elbow. "Your presence alone sent that thing into a frenzy, meaning you're planning something. And since we're the only ones here, someone told you to do something to me I'm assuming?"
She sighs. "Shield charm on the count of three." she says, "Then I can at least tell Scott I tried."
I grin. Daniel Scott is a Slytherin fourth-year who earned a detention from me a few weeks ago when I caught him trying to do graffiti on one of the school's portraits, a painting of a fat lady dressed all in pink. Of course, he's the type who would try to get even with me by paying Nina off to hex me. "Alright." I draw my wand. "Thanks."
"Three...two...one!"
I scream "Protegro!" at the exact moment she screams "Titliandus!" The hex comes flying at me, but hits the shield and goes no further. We lower our wands and I shake my head. "The tickling hex? Seriously? Is that really the best you can do? You're better than that, Nina."
She scoffs. "His call, not mine. That kid has no imagination."
"Do I need to pay anything to have you put an acne-producing potion in his food?"
"No, it's my pleasure. Just supply the potion, and the recipe." She grins and twirls her wand. "He's annoying, and he underpays me, too. I'll plant it for free."
The Sneakoscope has fallen still.
I grin. "Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way. What we came in here to talk about."
She nods, storing her wand, and shoots a glance around the room. "Comfy place, here. Is this what it looks like when you and Allen are in here?"
I shrug. "About one time out of three, when we're just in here to talk. I think you'll be more interested in what we do the other two-thirds of the time, though."
"Is that so?" Nina raises her eyebrows. "What's it like then? Big, fluffy bed? Mini-bar in the corner? Jacuzzi by the door?"
I groan and shake my head. "Come off it, Nina. Allen and I, we're just friends. No matter how much you fantasize about it, that's not what's going on."
She snorts, plopping down on the couch and pulling a case out of her pocket. "Suit yourself. Mind if I smoke? I'm rather a fiend for a Marlboro right now."
"A what, excuse me?"
She grins and shows me what's in the case - a neat row of cigarettes and a silver lighter encrusted with rhinestones. "Normally, I'd think wizards do everything better." she explains as she picks up a cigarette and pops it between her lips. "But Muggles happen to have mastered the art of the perfect cigarette. A pipe doesn't cut it for me, unfortunately." She glances at me. "So you don't mind?"
"Go ahead." I roll my eyes. "I don't really care."
"Thanks." She flips the lighter open, and the cigarette flares to life. The rhinestones glitter as they catch the light from the glowing-orange tip of the cigarette. "So, go on. Tell me. What does it look like when you and Allen are here?"
I think for a moment about how to answer. I point to the farthest corner of the room. "Over there, there's a closet full of potions ingredients." I say, "Everything you can imagine…forget about the potions supply closet available to the students in the dungeons, literally everything you can imagine. And then over here…" I pause and gesture to the area where the couch is presently. "…is a work table. Lining two of the walls are shelves full of tools for making potions. Scales, mortars, pestles, measuring cups, knives, you name it. One wall has a bookshelf full of books, recipes for potions. And there…" I point to the corner opposite where the supply closet would normally be. "…is a cauldron and a fireplace. There's a couple of chairs by the table, too. And there's a box of cleaning supplies, too." I glance at her. "Any guesses about what we do in here?"
She furrows her brow for a moment. Then she grins. "Well, obviously you're making some kind of potion. What type of potion is it? That's my question."
I take a deep breath. "There's a forbidden potion called 'Evigilo Mors' that completely negates the user's need for sleep. But the problem is, once you start taking it, you can't really stop. Well, I guess, you can, but it'll hurt like crazy…for a long time." I pause. "That's what we've been doing here. Every few days, we come up here to make it. I'm the one who's using it."
She stares at me incredulously. "You should go up to Flitwick and give that Prefect's badge back…if you're telling the truth here, you deserve it about as much as I do." After a moment's silence, she grins. "That's friggin' awesome, Elia! You know how to make potions like that? Damn, I underestimated you - and here I was asking for silly favors like charms homework from you? I should've been asking for forbidden potions all this time!"
I laugh, somewhat relieved. By her reaction, I can tell there's no way in hell she's going to sell me out - not when she's got a goldmine of potions genius at her disposal, not in a million years. "Yeah, so. That's the story."
Her smile fades. "So, what's the price here?" she asks. "You wouldn't tell me this stuff for no reason."
I think for a moment about how to explain it. Then: "I need your help with something. I need information on a person, she's not at Hogwarts, but I figure if anyone's good at digging up secret information, it's you."
She chuckles, clearly pleased by this. "Alright! Simple enough. Who's the victim, and what do you want me to dig up?"
"My mother. Her name is Eliana Shacklebolt. And, what I want to know, is anything you can get your hands on."
She frowns, seemingly uncertain. "I dunno, Elia…" She speaks very slowly. "I know, normally, I take a job, no questions asked, no answers required, and just do it. But…this once, I'm gonna break that rule." She pauses. "I don't know why you need me for this, why you can't just ask your dad or anyone else in your family. This feels weird for me. I mean, if you can explain it, and the story's good enough, I'll do it. But…I don't want to get involved in something too sticky, and I get the feeling this might just be a bit more stickiness than I'm comfortable with."
I sigh. "I'd tell you, but it's crazy…and I'm really not sure if I should share it with you. Kinda not used to you acting like you have a conscience."
She groans. "You think all I see is numbers? Price, risk, benefit? Let me tell you something. I am human, even if I have more of an eye for business than human bonding. And whether or not it shows, I do have feelings. If you tell me this, for collateral, I'll tell you one of my secrets. And if I in any way mess s**t up for you, it's your choice what you do with that information."
I stare at her. Is she serious? It is curiosity, more so than trust, that propels me to agree. "Alright."
She purses her lips and nods. "Okay, then. You can start, whenever you're ready."
I snort. "Fine." Then, I take a deep breath.
And speak.
"I guess I should start from the beginning. I never knew my mom. My dad raised me from day one. And it was always just me and him - never any other relatives. He told me since I was little that my mom died giving birth to me, and that's why I never met her. I always kinda went with it…but now that I think about it, how the hell is it plausible that a witch dies in childbirth?" I stop for a moment. How did I never see that? It's an obvious lie. And I never even questioned it. Why didn't I see it before?
Nina is blowing rings of smoke. "So that's it? You want to know because you want to know what really happened, since she clearly didn't die in childbirth?"
"Well…the full truth is more complicated than that." I blow a stray curl out of my face. "The night of the start-of-term banquet, I had this really weird dream. In it I was in Azkaban, in a cell with an older woman who looked a lot like me. She had my face, my hair, my hands. The biggest difference between me and her, besides age, was her eyes. They were brown, not like mine." Pause. "She said she was my mother, and that she's been waiting there for me for so long. It freaked me out, but I told myself it was just a dream. But then I had it again the next day…I was scared. She kept telling me I was the marked one, and it was my destiny to save her…I didn't know what to do…I prepared a dreamless sleep potion the next day…but the dream came back, again. And she said, 'You cannot run from me, I am your destiny. I will follow you as far as I need to. But I won't stop.' I couldn't believe it. I needed something else…it wouldn't go away even with the dreamless sleep potion…which meant it wasn't really a dream. It meant something more. That's what I was most terrified of. I had to stop myself from sleeping, somehow. I couldn't face it." I draw a deep, shaky breath. "I'm on good terms with Professor Snape. Because I'm so good at potion-making, see. So…I asked him if he could write me a note for access to the book 'Most Potente Potions' in the library's restricted section, if I could get some extra credit for choosing a few poisons out of there and coming up with antidotes. He agreed and wrote the note for me. I was looking for a potion that could negate the need for sleep, and I found it. Evigilo Mors. There was a warning on the page with it…'Drink not of the Evigilo Mors unless you wish to see the rise of Death, and cease not to drink Evigilo Mors unless you ready to face your own limits of pain.' I thought that the 'rise of Death' thing was just meant to scare off potential users, because we all know that no magic can raise the dead, and to my way of thinking the only thing I was afraid of was those visions. I wasn't afraid of pain. I ripped the page out and went to the Room of Requirement right away. I made my first batch that same day.
"A few days later I was drinking a bottle of it and Allen caught me. He was worried, of course…I finally managed to convince him to start helping me make it, if he was so worried for my safety. I told him it was a potion that prevented the user from ever needing to sleep. I didn't tell him, at first, why I was taking it. I didn't tell him at all until a couple of weeks ago. But since then I've started having visions of Azkaban, while I'm awake. They just suddenly hit me. It's scary…my mom, she was telling the truth…no matter what I do, she'll keep finding ways to come after me. I can't escape it. So I need to know the truth. Whatever it is, it seems like I'm facing it one way or another, so I need to know…then at least I can prepare for whatever horrible s**t I gotta face." I pause. "Nina, this is the longest I've ever heard you keep your mouth shut. Even in class you can't go this long."
Indeed, she hasn't even moved to speak this whole time - she's been staring at me intently the entire time I've been speaking. She sits frozen to the spot for a few seconds after I finish. Then, at last, she nods slowly and speaks. "I gotcha." Pause. "Well, then…you've got a deal. This is even crazier than I thought, but you've got me interested. I'll do what I can. Invisibility Potion and Polyjuice Potion in one deal? Whatever s**t this gets me into I can totally just disappear right away!"
I chuckle. "Alright then."
She grins, but moments later, a serious look has spread across her face. "So I guess now it's time for my collateral. Elia, do you know what the criteria for each of the four houses is? How our house is chosen?"
I frown. It's an odd question, and not what I expected. "Well, Gryffindor gets the bravest people, right? And then Ravenclaw gets the smartest ones. Slytherin gets the purebloods, And Hufflepuff gets…the rest?"
"That's what they say, isn't it?" She examines her fingernails. "Well, you're half-right on two of them, but on the other two you're so far off that it's hard to believe you're in Ravenclaw. Yes, each house has a defining trait. Gryffindor's trait is bravery, and Ravenclaw's is intelligence - you had those two kinda right. Hufflepuff's defining trait is loyalty - get it straight, Elia, they aren't the friggin' leftovers, the trait is loyalty. And Slytherin's trait…it isn't pureblood lineage, it's ambition.
"But even that is a gross oversimplification, right? What about people who are brave, and smart, and loyal, and ambitious? I daresay there's nobody who has just one of those traits. You said it yourself, I'm not just ambitious, I'm also smart. And you, you aren't just smart, you're also loyal and fairly ambitious. Your buddy Allen is brave, smart, and loyal. The Weasley twins I'd wager have some compatibility with all four. And Tonks, at the very least, would be clever in addition to loyal - you saw how many N.E.W.T.s she took, she was very bright, although her hands didn't show it, she was extremely bright. Hardly anyone has just one of those traits. So, how does the Sorting Hat decide which house we go into?
"The answer to that is, it decides based on which trait weighs most heavily into our decisions when there's a lot at stake. Like when you-know-who was at full power. Those from Gryffindor would be at the forefront of the opposition - they knew he was evil and wouldn't lie down for him, it was important to them to do what was right, no matter what it cost them. Those from Hufflepuff would be the majority of those who just lay low and tried to stay off his radar - because for the Hufflepuff, the well-being of their friends and family would come above all else. Many Slytherins saw his power as a means to their own ends, and joined him - which is why there's so many former Death Eaters who were from Slytherin. Ravenclaws would be divided - since they base their decisions in the smartest option, they could wind up anywhere, since each would draw a different conclusion about where it was best to be. Do you see what I mean here? Gryffindors based their decisions in their bravery. Hufflepuffs based their decisions in their loyalty. Slytherins based their decisions in their ambition. And Ravenclaws based their decisions in their intelligence. The defining trait isn't whichever one you have, or even whichever one is most prominent as seen by others - the defining trait is the one which weighs most heavily into your decisions. So, I'm a Slytherin because I have one ambition in life." She pauses. I can tell she's about to drop the bomb, and try to prepare myself. But when she does drop it, nothing could have prepared me.
"I'm not a pureblood, Elia. I'm a half-blood. Nobody else at Hogwarts knows it. My father had an affair with a muggle-born witch. I'm her daughter. I'm half-blood." Pause. "My father's uncle, Lawrence, was a Death-Eater. He hated muggle-born witches and wizards, wanted to kill them all. I will never forget the night when I was three years old, my father was taking me to my mother's house…we saw the Dark Mark over her house, and my father's face went pale. He ran into the house screaming for her. And she was dead on the kitchen floor. I saw her lying there staring into nothingness. It was my uncle, Lawrence Javeris, who killed her. He hated her, hated that my father had fallen in love with her…he told my father, 'If you try to marry that mudblood, your wedding day will be her funeral.' So he didn't marry her. But I still came along. My father told everyone that my mother was Aralyn Malfoy, she died a few weeks after I was born so nobody could ask her, and since he'd been friends with her some were none the wiser. But my uncle knew, because he could see it…" She laughs bitterly. "I have my mother's eyes. My father's smile, but my mother's eyes. He knew that I was not the daughter of Aralyn Malfoy, no matter what my father said - he knew where I really came from.
"Well, Lawrence wound up in Azkaban. And he's still there, alive. And I'm still here, with my ambition. My ambition is to kill him. To make him pay for what he did. I will do whatever I must in order to get there. I don't care who I have to step on, who else dies along the way, if I get shoved in Azkaban forever, even if I die in the process - as long as he dies by my hand. That's why I'm a Slytherin. It's not because I'm a pureblood, and don't you dare ever say that it is. It's because everything I do has that one goal in the end. I will kill him. Nothing else matters."
Nina's face isn't bright and mischievous, as it usually is. It is cold and hard as steel. And I am too stunned by her admission to react - to say anything, to feel anything, to even move. My very body is numb, trying to absorb this secret of Nina's. I finally manage to squeeze out a quiet, "Oh."
Her eyes are somewhere far off. But a moment later, I see them sparkling again. All at once, the cheeky grin is back in place, and she's re-lighting the cigarette which must have died out while we were talking. "So, about that invisibility potion. Gonna give me the recipe, or what?"
I laugh. The laugh is somewhat forced - too high, too loud, too harsh to be natural - but it's a start. "Right, right. I've got it right here. I was almost hoping that the truth would be enough to make you forget about it, but…"
She blows a puff of smoke in my face. "Can I sell the truth to plucky first- and second-years for five galleons a bottle? No, I can't. Hand it over."
I feign exasperation as I hand the scroll with the recipe on it, but it's really almost a relief to have the Nina I know back. The Nina whose only real concern is what's going to get her a few galleons, what she's going to sell next, and how to reap the largest profit, not the Nina who is dead set on the idea of killing her uncle, the Nina who never got over her mother's death, the Nina who is much deeper than I ever realized.
---
Midnight brings me back, once again, to the Room of Requirement. The room looks the same as it did earlier when I was talking to Nina in here, except the Sneakoscope is still, there is no smoke in the air, and it's Allen, rather than Nina, who is sitting on the couch. He smiles. "Hell is empty and all the devils are here," he greets me.
"Better a witty fool than a foolish wit." I reply, raising my eyebrow at him. "Haven't been waiting long for me, have you?"
He laughs - I disguise my startled jolt by pretending to check the lock on the door - and moves over to make room for me on the couch. "Not yet. But we'll see how quickly you get over here."
I snort and slide onto the couch next to him. "I spoke to Brett and Nina." I begin once I'm seated comfortably. "Brett agreed to pull a few strings and get my mom's file from the Ministry's record-keepers. And Nina's been enlisted as well."
"At what price?"
"The recipe for the Invisibility Potion upfront, and the Polyjuice Potion if she pulls up anything good." I smile. "Oh, and the knowledge that our clothes stay on in this room."
He frowns. "What?"
"Well, she knows we come in here together from time to time. I don't know how she knows it! She says nobody tipped her off, she's the only one who knows...I don't know how but I kinda feel like I don't want to know." I pause. "I just told her we're making potions in here. Not...hooking up or any s**t like that. She's not gonna spill what we're doing here when her benefit - any potions she might get from me in the future - is riding on it." I omit the fact that I told Nina a lot more than that, too. I get the gut feeling that telling him just how much Nina Javeris now knows would only be counterproductive.
He looks confused. "How the hell would she know about that?"
"I don't know - maybe one of the suits of armor saw us, according to her she's got deals with quite a few of them." I speculate. "But she hasn't told anyone we come in here, so I guess we're safe for now."
"Yeah, for now." he scoffs. "I trust Nina insofar as I know she doesn't mess up people's lives for fun, but if someone offered her payment for dirt on either of us, you know, there's that."
I am very glad, now, that I didn't tell him everything I've told her. I know she won't spill our secret, not with her own secret at stake. But I can't tell Allen that. "Well, only time will tell, right? End of the day, she's agreed to help us, and so has Brett. That's the big thing now."
He looks unsure for a moment, then sighs and nods. "You're right. I guess we'll just have to trust her this time."
I shrug. "So, that's out of the way. You wanna head out? We'll meet here to make more Evigilo Mors in a couple of days. We'll discuss the whole 'stopping' thing at a later date."
He snaps around and grabs my arm. "Wait." he says, and his voice - as well as his sudden movement - catches me off-guard. He looks a bit startled by his own haste as well. He pauses for a moment to recover himself before speaking. "Let's not go yet. I mean, what's the rush? No one's gonna find us here."
"Yeah, but you've got class tomorrow morning." I remind him gently. "I'll be awake regardless, but you? You need to sleep."
He thinks this over for a moment, then sighs. "You're right. I should get going." He pauses. "But, wanted to ask...the first Quidditch match of the season is coming up. Since we're not going to be on opposing teams, do you want to sit with me? We can 'boo' Slytherin together."
I grin. "Sure. I'll even cheer on Gryffindor a bit. And I'll bring my binoculars, too." Pause. "We'll work out some way to share them."
He smiles. "Alright. Brett might tag along, too, but since he's on the Hufflepuff team and his first match of the season will be against Gryffindor, I doubt we'll see the same kind of enthusiasm from him about cheering on Gryffindor."
I shrug. "Come whatever may, right?"
---
The morning of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match dawns bright and clear. At breakfast, I see Oliver Wood reminding Gryffindor's three Chasers to check their food carefully before they eat it and be suspicious of any random gifts of food arriving from home. I smirk. Oh, Nina. You have quite a reputation. I muse as I bite into a piece of buttered toast.
Indeed, over at the Slytherin table, I see the Slytherin team guarding their food carefully. One of the chasers, who appears to have received a parcel from home, is regarding the package suspiciously. Nina is ignoring them - her attention seems to be on Daniel Scott, who is digging into a bowl of oatmeal. I can tell from the delight on her face that by the end of the day, Daniel's face will be erupting with massive, oozing, painful zits.
She catches my eye and gives me the thumbs-up. One member of the Slytherin Quidditch team catches this and immediately panics. She sticks her tongue out at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. I smirk and finish the last bite of my toast before rising from the table and walking out to the Postal Tree.
For once I arrive before Allen does. He grins as he approaches. "This above all; to thine own self be true." he recites.
"Better three hours too soon than a minute too late." I reply, making a mental note to dig through one of my books of Shakespeare. I'm running low on quotes, and if Allen has one and I don't one day, I know I'll hear a goad about how Ravenclaws are supposed to be the clever ones. "You ready to head over?"
"Yeah. Sorry I wasn't early this time, got sidetracked by a conversation with the Weasley twins. They gave me something..." He pulls open the large pockets of his robes to show me their contents - his pockets are crammed with pastries that were clearly nicked from the kitchen. "For us, during the match. You brought your binoculars?"
I pat my clutch. "Got it."
He grins. "Great! Let's head over to the stands, get a seat before all the good ones are taken." He offers me his arm with a mocking bow. I roll my eyes and start walking towards the Quidditch field. A moment later he catches up and we make the rest of the walk side-by-side.
We are a few of the first people seated. Around the stadium I can see a few people hanging out in the stands, chatting and lying out on the seats, waiting for the rest of the school to arrive. I see a cloud of smoke hovering over one of the stands nearby and, at the base of it, Nina, smoking a cigarette before the game. I point her out to Allen. He shouts "Hey, Nina! Not poisoning anyone this time?" She flips him off, and once he's sitting again, I smack his arm, scolding him mockingly for being so rude. He holds his hands up and apologizes through his stifled laughter.
About an hour later the stands are full, the teams are entering the field, and the game is about to begin. The stands erupt into cheers as the players kick off from the ground and the Quaffle flies into the air. I always loved watching Quidditch when I was little. My local team never made it to the Quidditch Cup, but that never really bothered me - the flow of the game was simply mesmerizing to me. Almost hypnotic.
"Hey, Elia, what do you think Potter's doing?"
That's Allen's voice. I look around the field and notice suddenly that the Gryffindor seeker is nowhere in sight. I look up into the sky and see him hovering high above the rest of the game, just a speck in the distance. "He's probably just trying to stay out of the way of the Bludgers..." I begin, but then something odd strikes me: Why is he jerking around like that? I turn my binoculars up to him and frown. "What the bloody hell?"
Allen pokes me anxiously. "What? What is it?"
"It's...I don't know what he's doing...he's flying backwards...like zigzagging everywhere...if I didn't know better I'd say he wasn't in control of his broom..."
Allen gasps. "What?" He snatches the binoculars. "Oh my god, he's barely hanging on to his broom...this is bad. What the bloody hell is happening? Do you think this is Nina's work?"
I shake my head. "No way. Nina wouldn't do something like this. If she were going to sabotage his broom, she'd cut it up while it was in the shed. She never actually hurts anyone, she isn't like that. This isn't her style - if Potter falls from there, boy who lived or not, he's not gonna survive." A glance over confirms that Nina looks just as freaked out by Potter's loss of control over his broomstick as we are.
Suddenly, Potter goes flying off of his broom. I gasp, along with everyone else in the stands. I brace myself for his impact - but miraculously, it doesn't come. I look up and see him holding onto the broom with one hand. I can practically feel Allen holding his breath. Damn, this is not good! Hang on, Potter! I'm thinking as I watch him struggle to keep his grip. You survived against You-Know-Who...don't die here, dammit! You can do this!
And then, a miracle happens. He reaches up, grabs the broom with his other hand, and swings himself back up onto his broomstick.
Allen looks as stunned as I feel. "What the hell was all that?" he says when he finally manages to speak again.
"I have no clue, but that boy's just lucky it ended when it did! Otherwise he was a goner for sure!" I look down and realize that my knuckles are white on the edge of my seat. I release my grip slowly and touch Allen's shoulder. "He's alright. He's alright now. You can breathe now."
He bobs his head up and down. "I know, but...what do you suppose happened there?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. Just hope it doesn't happen again, I'll say."
He nods grimly. "Not much else we can do, right?"
The next few minutes of the game pass uneventfully. I watch the game with an unfocused gaze, but I'm unable to reach the meditative state that Quidditch usually brings me to again. Harry Potter has gone back to circling above the field like a hawk, and my gaze keeps drifting upwards from the field. What happened? The question keeps drifting back and forth before my eyes. But somehow I get the distinct feeling I'll never have an answer.
Suddenly, Potter goes into a steep dive, a streak of crimson robes speeding towards the Earth. I gasp, worried for a moment he's going to crash straight into the ground. But he pulls up at the last moment. I sigh with relief. Allen, however, is watching intently. "He's seen it! He's seen the Snitch!" he grins. "We're gonna win this!"
And then Potter has pitched forward onto the field and is on his hands and knees. I turn my binoculars down to the field and see that he appears to be choking on something. Allen grabs the binoculars and focuses in. "Does he have it? Does he have the Snitch?"
I shake my head and start to say "No, I think he's just about to be sick" but Allen lets out a whoop and pumps his fist in the air, screaming, "HE'S GOT IT! HE'S GOT THE SNITCH! WE WON!" and I grab the binoculars back from him, looking down and trying to figure out how Potter got his hands on it while about to pitch up his breakfast. Allen stops cheering for long enough to clue me in that the snitch somehow wound up in Potter's mouth. I'm a bit too impressed by Potter's luck to do much cheering. Surviving against you-know-who as a baby, holding onto that bucking broomstick, and catching the Snitch in his mouth? His blood is probably Felix Felicis - no other explanation for that kind of luck. I chuckle at the thought.