A/N: I haven't been here in a while, this I know. Unfortunately, late last year I dropped my laptop, and am yet to have it replaced. I am truly sorry that my seventh year fic isn't being updated but since I dropped the laptop I've lost all my notes on it and am not sure what to do with it. Maybe wing it, will try.
This is a reworking and repost of my original story, A Tale of Winter, some minor changes have been made to this chapter, major ones in subsequent, and from chapter three everything will be new. I didn't like some aspects of the old story and this new plot I like much better. Hope you enjoy and forgive me for not updating anything in so long.
*****
"Revenge is a course best served cold."
*****
Chapter One
One week to the end of the term, and the morning of the last Hogsmeade visit for the year, winter finally came to Scotland.
Overnight, a light frost had settled over the castle and the surrounding area, bringing with it a faint mist that hung amongst the trees and in the mountains above. The trees, most of them bare from fall, stood stark, black and dark brown, their inhabitants having long deserted them. The sky was palest grey at dawn, no other sound could be heard other than the occasional owl or the wind, and the air was fiercely cold. As our group made its way down the main path to the village, it swirled about us, reddening all exposed skin, piercing my nostrils and making my eyes water.
Our chaperone this morning was Padma Patil, the Transfiguration teacher, who had actually been in the same year as my parents when they were at school. She was nice enough, but rather strict, and since she had already been used to my father, was one of the few new teachers who didn't spend every class singing praises of him or making me out to be something special. As we had prepared to leave the castle this morning she had levelled each of us with a glare and said, "I know it is cold this morning, so let's not make this difficult. If I tell you all it's time to leave, I want you to stop what you're doing and join the line back to the castle. We're expecting a storm some time today and I doubt that any of you would be able to find your way back to the castle through it alone."
And indeed this was the kind of day that one would prefer to spend indoors, buried under blankets with hot chocolate or curled up before the fireplace. Assuredly when I awoke this morning in my slightly freezing dorm, not one of us five girls wanted to move if just to open the curtains round our beds. But this was the only morning we had to do our Christmas shopping, and Rigel refused to let me stay behind.
"So Potter, what are you planning to get me this year?" he asked, when finally we began to see the first houses of the village in the distance.
At this, some of the other Third Years nearly took off at a start, but Professor Patil quickly herded them back, much to the amusement of the older students.
"Nothing, the usual… I actually have a list from Milo, but maybe I could get Mackenzie a substitute Christmas jumper, she hates the ones Grandma Weasley insists on knitting every year…" I replied absently, staring off at the mixture of dead and evergreen fir trees that lined our path.
It was not so hard to imagine, looking at it now, that in a few days all this would be covered in a fine layer of snow, which would progressively thicken as it got closer to Christmas. At home in Godric's Hollow the snow would invariably appear shortly before or much after Christmas, New Year's Eve for the latest. And no matter how little of it there was my father would always find some way to have the first snowman on the street.
"Oh, just so we're clear," said Rigel, jerking me out of my daze, blowing into his gloved palms. Already his cheeks and nose were magenta, the Malfoys' usually enviable pale complexion a curse in cold weather.
"But I did get you something, so you might just consider it."
I arched an eyebrow and looked across at him, sceptical, "You did? You actually got me something for Christmas?"
He shrugged, "Why shouldn't I? We've known each other since we were babies, I spend more time at your house than Malfoy Manor, and our parents work together. I think that entitles me to something like that…. And you better like it, when Grandmother learned I was searching about for gifts she insisted on buying something expensive."
"Did she know it was for Harry Potter's daughter?" I asked.
"Not a chance, the house elves know better," he replied, and then hastily added when I fixed him a look, "She'd take out her anger on them, not me."
I sighed and looked away, and then asked, "So, what'd you get your cousins?"
He looked ahead of us to the two red-haired girls near the front of the group, Hortense and Aisling Weasley. Hortense Joséphine was the daughter of Bill and Fleur Delacour, and though fourteen, was easily the prettiest girl in the entire school. What, with her long, wavy reddish-blonde hair, wide cobalt blue eyes, oval-shaped face, pale, clear complexion and petite build, she looked very much like a Muggle supermodel.
Aisling Selene, on the other hand, was tall and big-boned with waist-length fiery-red hair, bright azure blue eyes, a deeply dimpled smile and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She could be and was considered pretty in her own right, her parents, Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna, were good-looking people, but beside Hortense she looked rather plain.
Of course, beside Hortense everyone looked plain.
"Really nothing, Grandmother would have been suspicious, and she does not approve of the idea of more than one girlfriend," he replied.
"More than… but I'm not your girlfriend," I pointed out.
He sighed and put a long woollen-clad arm around my shoulders, drawing me to him, "Again, she doesn't know about you, and since we're not actually related, I have no qualms perpetuating the idea that the girl she bought that really expensive gift for was my girlfriend."
I shoved him off, trying to ignore how much I had just relished the extra warmth, "They'll have your head when they find out."
He laughed, (for as a rule, Malfoys do not snort) "I only have to get gifts for Hortense, Guillaume, François, Aisling and Carl, and that can be delivered from Honeydukes at any time. Uncles Charlie, Percy, Fred and George either do not have any children or are not speaking to us, and doesn't have any children. And I can't get anything for Milo-horrible name for a boy by the way, what was your father thinking?-and Mackenzie-does your mother know it means `son of the wise leader'?-because I'm a Malfoy and therefore we are now blood enemies of the Potters. You are an exception because, as I said before, we grew up together."
It took me a moment to find the flaw in his theory, but before I could show it to him, he said, "Ah Hogsmeade… let's go to The Three Broomsticks, I want butterbeer and the new wench minding the bar is hotter than the chocolate they serve."
The village of Hogsmeade, the only all-wizard village in all of magical Britain had not changed that much since the war. Granted, according to my parents a number of the shops that had been around in their day had closed or were burnt during and after the war, the important ones were still there. The Three Broomsticks, Gladrags Wizard Wear, Honeydukes' Sweet Shop, Scrivenshaft's and Madam Puddifoot's (unfortunately) were still the favourite and essential haunts of Hogwarts students. But now they were joined by a branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes-which replaced Zonko's Joke Shop-The Hostel of Ill Repute-which replaced the Hog's Head Inn with clientele to match-and a pet shop known as Maudling's Menagerie.
The menagerie was generally avoided by students though, as from the window one could clearly see that none of the "pets" looked too friendly or could actually be considered a legal pet.
As it was nearing Christmas, the entire village was swathed in fairy-lit and ornately decorated wreaths, garlands and boughs. A large Christmas tree had been set up near the entrance to the village from the school, and having been decorated with items from the stores of the main shopkeepers, it was now joined by a group of carollers who sang to all who passed them. But the most interesting decoration was along the main street where they had strung banners from side to side proclaiming Christmas greetings, and, it was rumoured, someone had set up jinxed boughs of mistletoe that trapped unsuspecting pedestrians until someone came along and kissed them free. All the way down those with us who were not discussing what they planned to get or hoped they were getting, were planning different ways to get trapped under or detect them.
Taking care to avoid these though, Rigel grasped my arm and dragged me off towards the pub. Already there was a crowd gathering, tracking the muddy ice and freezing air as they went in, their voices carrying a low murmur of conversation that rose to a roar in the small pub. The regular patrons looked none too pleased at the noisy intrusion, but there was little to be done about it. Before the war, The Three Broomsticks had had a reputation for being student-friendly, and since the war that had not changed.
I had to admit I was freezing myself, and a warm butterbeer would have been wonderful, but I was not at all keen on the idea of going in there.
I jerked my arm back, "Why don't we go to Madam Puddifoot's instead, it's crowded in here."
He looked at me as if I had grown a second head, and then snapped, "Are-you-insane? Madam Puddifoot's? It's already hard enough for my housemates to accept that we associate with each other at all; you want them to lynch me if they get the idea that you're my girlfriend? And another thing, Madam Puddifoot's is pink and frilly, Malfoys do not do pink and frilly."
"You're only half-Malfoy," I told him, coldly.
"Yes, but the Weasley half isn't keen on it either," he replied blandly and grasped my hand again. "Now come on, let's get something to drink."
It took us a full ten minutes then to get into the pub, so thick had the crowd gathered, and then nearly ten more to get a table. The students, who had filed in before us, took up every available seat and then some; they had even packed themselves onto some of the "presents" beneath the Christmas tree beside the fireplace. I scanned the room beside Rigel at the door and said, "I told you so."
He looked across at me and sneered, "We don't have to sit."
"I'm tired, we just walked all the way from the castle," I protested.
"You Potters, the whole lot of you just a bunch of big babies," he grumbled, and then stopped, apparently realising something.
I turned to look at him ready to retort, but then stopped at his expression, "Rigel… what are you-"
I was cut off when he snatched my arm, marched me to the best table in the pub-the one beside the fireplace where a group of Third Year Hufflepuffs had gathered-and said, "Get up."
They, and I, looked at him surprised, and then they scoffed, "What for?"
He pulled the cap from my head, and stood back as if presenting a priceless work of art, "Magnolia Potter, you know her, Harry Potter's daughter, beloved first-born?"
I made to protest, the words were on the tip of my tongue… but before they could come out the four students abruptly stood up and offered us the table.
I found my voice then, and stumbled through a protest, "Y-you don't have to… Rigel is just a git, we'll go sit at the bar…."
"No, it's okay," said one of the four, a girl with a head of the longest, thickest set of curly red hair I had ever seen. (And I know the Weasleys, so that's saying something.)
"Yeah, we were just sitting around anyway… we've already had our drinks…" said another, Anand Nagra, a boy I knew from Care of Magical Creatures. And really the only reason I remembered him at all was because he, of the entire class, and possibly in the class' history since Professor Hagrid took over, actually enjoyed it.
And before I could say any more they hurried away, whispering to each other. I immediately punched Rigel in the arm.
"Hey, what was that for?" he demanded, glaring at me.
"For being a git, how could you just do that?" I hissed, while guiltily slumping into a chair.
"Well, I couldn't very well use the Malfoy or Weasley name, could I? Malfoys are shunned nowadays, thanks to Grandfather the name is mud, and Weasleys, well, you know the story; unless you're Aisling or Carl it won't do you any good. And anyway, you should be proud of your name," he said, taking a seat beside me and looking around to see if there was a waiter of some kind.
"I am," I said, exhaling slowly. "I just don't like using it to get my way."
"Well then I hope you don't mind if I do," he replied, and then handing me my cap, stood again, "Now give me a moment here to get us some drinks, unfortunately even though it would get us a seat, your name can't get us service."
I watched him depart with a sigh. Rigel Edmund Malfoy, the fifteen year old son of Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, though he had never met his father, nor his father known of him, in some ways was just like him: arrogant, manipulative and thoroughly spoiled.
I unwound my scarf and then undid the first three buttons of my parka. The heat from the fireplace was already making it feel stuffy and suffocating, and though I was sure it was impossible, I felt quite near heatstroke.
At the bar Rigel was happily chatting up the pretty witch, no doubt seven years his senior, while she made up our drinks. She seemed just as eager to let him, tall and broad-shouldered like Uncle Bill and Uncle Ron, he had piercing grey eyes, high, almost chiselled cheekbones, an oval face and sleek, fine Weasley-red hair. It was a mixture of his father's and Aunt Ginny's features, and what a beautiful combination it had created. If it wasn't for the unfortunate Malfoy name (something which he had only adopted when he arrived at Hogwarts), I had overheard many girls say, he would actually be unabashedly fanciable.
He turned back to me then with a smile, and I saw the witch's expression change as her eyes fell on me, first to distaste and then to surprise as something clicked in her mind.
That happened often.
Like Rigel had said, I was Harry Potter's daughter and I had my father's eyes. My siblings and I had been and were kept well out of the spotlight by our family, determined that we would not spend an eternity being gawked at, but I had been cursed with my mother's bushy hair, though it was black, and my father's, and by default, grandmother's almond-shaped bright green eyes. I had no scar, I wore no glasses, I had taken my features from my mother and paternal grandmother and was clearly a girl, but somehow they still made the connection.
He made to come back to our table, she tapped him on the arm and called him back, and when he finally sat with me again I saw that she had given him a plate of sandwiches.
He sat down with a grin, "It pays to know a Potter in this place. Look, free sandwiches."
I couldn't complain about that.
*****
Half an hour later, we were out of The Three Broomsticks and walking briskly through Hogsmeade village's main street. The weather had changed for the worse, the pregnant gathering clouds above had darkened to slate and the wind blustered icily. It whipped the banners above the street relentlessly, threatening each with forceful expulsion. But the people below were in barely less danger as it cut across faces and through robes like particularly viciously sharp daggers. We both wanted nothing more than to be within one of the warm shops again. We were practically running to Honeydukes' Sweet Shop, and as we went I tried to read Milo's list.
"A packet of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, a blood flavoured lollipop-clearly for a prank-the Tooth-flossing String Mints our grandparents love, one of those new Three-Day Flavour Ten-Metre Chewing Gum Reels… why didn't he just say buy the entire shop?" I asked, reading it over in shock. "Mum would never forgive me for this…."
Rigel looked over my shoulder at it, "He's ten, when you were ten you liked candy too, let's go. Remember I have Christmas shopping to do there too."
I turned to glare at him, but he looked absolutely serious, "What? You thought I was kidding? Hortense is high-maintenance, Guillaume and François are like Milo, they only care about two things: Quidditch and candy. Aisling's… okay, so I don't know what she likes but she spends a lot of time with Hortense so that couldn't possibly end well, and Carl… well, he's more like his mother innit, so I can't possibly find something weird enough for him. Candy it is."
"I can't wait for Christmas morning, they're going to crucify you," I replied.
He shrugged, "I'm used to it. Uncle Ron in particular can't get past the `Malfoy' in me. You'd swear my father had done something awful like kill the headmaster…." When I glared at him again, he protested, "He didn't actually do it, it was that Snape bloke. The most he did was insult your mother, fight with your father and Uncle Ron, and then hide for the war."
I looked away as we approached Honeydukes, and again, unsurprisingly, it was packed. Through the store window, where tantalising displays of various types of chocolate, cakes and fudge could be seen, I could clearly count twenty students surrounding the main counter alone. There was more room than The Three Broomsticks, but still it would take over an hour to get through to pay for what we bought.
You would think this wasn't our third Hogsmeade visit for the term.
With the doorway free, Rigel easily marched us into the shop, took two sweeping glances about the room, and then began to make orders to one of the attendants behind the counter. I looked at him for a moment and then wandered off on my own. I would not get Milo everything he asked for, but I could at least get him some of the less harmful stuff.
That is, less harmful to me.
But I was not alone for long. As I stood at a display peering in at a set of Gummy Worms, Bears and Snakes that actually moved, ("Feel them slither down your throat!" ick, blech and yuck) someone came up on the other side of the display and said, "Don't you find that a tad disturbing?"
I replied at once, "Yes, those worms look a little too real. And even though I think they're like Chocolate Frogs I think somebody could choke… if they didn't lose their lunch first…."
The person smiled, I could see it through the glass though I couldn't see their face, and said, "I wonder though, couldn't they find something less disturbing to make?"
"You mean unlike the long-existing exploding bonbons, Canary Creams and the blood-flavoured lollipops? Sometimes wizards come up with the weirdest things," I said.
This time the person stepped away from the glass to reply, "But what would the vampires have?" and I gasped, finally recognising them.
It was Connor Romulus Lupin, the son of two of my father's closest friends, Remus Lupin and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin (who expressly preferred for us to call her "Aunt Tonks" or just plain "Tonks"). Connor was a Fourth Year like Rigel, but the two didn't speak much, if at all, and we rarely saw him at the Burrow or at Godric's Hollow. As a matter of fact, though we attended the same school and were in the same house, I only saw him on occasion in the Great Hall.
It never really occurred to me to ask why either.
He was a tall boy and, according to some photo albums, as handsome as his father should have been in his youth… if it wasn't for his monthly condition. His hair was shoulder length, like most boys including Rigel wore it nowadays, and dark brown. He had a slightly muscular build, a round face and a very disarming, dimpled smile which he only seemed to use when he called me "Maggie", a nickname that he and he alone, used. (Everyone else, except Rigel, calls me "Lillie") But his eyes, unlike both parents, were steely grey-blue, and coupled with his long dark eyelashes and hair, he sometimes drew some of the attention Rigel craved.
Unfortunately, with his Metamorphagus mother and werewolf father, he also earned almost as much derision as Rigel occasionally (by which I mean "rarely at school") received for his Malfoy name.
"Connor!" I nearly cried out, "I haven't seen you since… since Hallowe'en."
I know it was silly, again, we were in the same school and the same house, but he grinned at me, and said, "And you Maggie… I haven't seen you since the first Quidditch match, Ravenclaw nearly gave us a trouncing, didn't they?"
"I know, it was embarrassing," I replied with a slight grimace.
He laughed, "You know, you should really join the team, they need new Chasers, desperately."
I shook my head, "I can't, I don't really like Quidditch and the prospect of getting up on a broom just for the sake of getting hit by a Bludger doesn't appeal to me."
"Who said you would get hit, that's what the Beaters are for. Isn't that the position Malfoy plays?" he asked.
"I just know I'll get hit, I play like my mother… and besides Rigel is in Slytherin, it would look rather odd if he was trying to defend me instead of his own team-mates…. Of course there's always Milo…" I replied.
"Tell me you're joking, now he plays like your mother, and that's just chess, do you really want to put him on a broom?" he asked, looking grim. "At this point it looks like all the Quidditch talent in your family went to your nine year old sister."
I paused, surprised: he knew Mackenzie's age?
"Well don't look so shocked, my father insists on sending you all cards and gifts… not to mention your birthdays are always newsworthy to the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly," he said, laughing again.
I blushed and looked to my feet, embarrassed, "Oh yeah… but it's just that… well, we haven't seen much of you…. I didn't know you knew anything about us down there…."
He shrugged, "We live in the North, near the most forested area my parents could find…. So anyway, what are you doing here…? I mean, apart from having a shufti?"
I was still a bit red as I said, "Shopping, well, Rigel's shopping, I'm just looking around for now…. Milo gave me a list though, and I seriously doubt I'll buy him all the things he wants. It's just all candy."
"Well, I don't blame him for stocking up, Honeydukes has some of the best sweets in all Britain and it looks very much as if we're all in for some of the worst winter weather in years. Did you get your letter yet?" he asked.
I looked at him confused, "Letter, what letter?"
He quickly clarified, "My Mum sent me a letter this morning saying that I'm going to have to spend the winter break at school. They've called out all their best Aurors on some top secret special assignment, and since my Dad's… you know (I knew, goodness after the Second War the whole of Wizarding Britain knew) then I'm going to have to stay here. She said your Dad was among those named for the assignment."
"Oh…" I replied, regarding his explanation for a moment. "But our Mum's an Unspeakable; I'll probably be going home anyway…. And either way I would end up at the Burrow eventually."
"Oh right," he said, as if now remembering this little fact, and curiously looking a bit disappointed.
"Why aren't you going to the Burrow then? I know Mrs Weasley would be very happy to have you, she's planning on taking us all in one year," I asked.
"My mum's worried about room," he said, clearly lying, which puzzled me. Aunt Tonks surely knew that if Mrs Weasley wanted us to fit, we would, and comfortably. He continued, "And besides, I want to stay at school; there are parts of it I haven't seen-"
"There you are, I was looking all over for you," called someone suddenly, cutting him off.
I turned away from Connor to see Rigel stalking over to me waving a long roll of paper I expected to be his receipt and sporting a triumphant grin on his face.
He had actually done it; I couldn't believe him, every one of his actual blood cousins receiving nothing but candy. I was right about what I said earlier, he was a git.
When he saw Connor behind me though, he stopped and for a moment something dark crossed his expression. It just as quickly disappeared, and he came over smiling, "Oh hey Connor, shopping too?"
"Yes," said Connor, with a false brightness that suggested he was also less than happy to see him. "Last Hogsmeade visit before Christmas you know…. But I'd done my shopping around at the last visit, now it's just to pick everything up."
"Oh? Then I guess we're going to have to leave you to it, aye? Magnolia and I have only just started, I thought we could afford it, you know, waiting around to last minute? But everything's so pricey now; it's putting a strain on even lazy, spoiled rich kids. Guess we'll take your economical example next year, might save us a few quid," he replied.
My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he, as half-Weasley, had just said what he did. I don't think his father even, according to what I could deduce about him, would have said something like that.
But Connor appeared to take nothing from it, and turning to me, said, "In that case… bye Maggie, see you at lunch or something."
I gave him a smile; he nodded to Rigel and then left. When he was out of sight and earshot I punched Rigel in the arm again.
"Hey," he exclaimed, "What was that for?"
"How could you just say that? How could you? You of all people should know better, should never…" I hissed angrily, trying to keep my voice low in case Connor was still somewhere about.
Rigel though, continued to feign innocence, "What? Are you implying that I was trying to offend young Lupin? My, how arrogant you've gotten. I should have never suggested that idea of using your name to get what you want; it seems to have given you a swollen head…. But we really should get going, maybe we should go check Gladrags, I know there's some stuff in there I want to get. That is, seeing that you are determined to disappoint Milo then…."
"You can't possibly expect me to buy him all that candy…" I said, giving up on arguing with him… for now.
He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew a shrunken package, "I didn't, that's why I did, now let's go."
And with that, he grabbed my arm again and propelled me out of the shop.
*****
When at last it was time to go back to Hogwarts, some four hours later in the mid-afternoon, Rigel and I were both carrying several heavy over-stuffed shopping bags and lighter purses. I had managed to convince him that he could not possibly give his cousins candy alone, and he had ended up forcing me into a series of impulse purchases that only stopped when a student came rushing into Scrivenshaft's and announced, breathlessly, "Professor Patil says it's time to go back, the storm's here!"
The cold this time was blistering. Despite the charms and Chap Stick my grandmother had sent, I was sure I could still feel my skin drying out and my lips cracking painfully. Rigel's face was nearly lost beneath his dark green and pale grey scarf, and each step he took seemed to take a tremendous effort. Everyone was having difficulty moving in fact, the advancing storm's preceding winds apparently attempting to batter all into submission before the rain came, but as Rigel was the only one with me, it was only him I could see.
Not a moment too soon though, the gates of Hogwarts Castle appeared on the hill above us.
I wanted to run at once, but I couldn't get my legs to respond until we were finally through them and the first semi-frozen droplets began to fall. Rigel somehow worked an arm free though, brought it up under mine and dragged me forward until we all stood again in the covered courtyard from which we had departed. And we nearly fell over as we came to a stop in the courtyard with the others, just as the freezing rain came down behind us.
Inside the castle, as we had left it, it was warm and full of life and light. A few days ago the Christmas decorations had begun to go up in earnest, after weeks of being contained to classrooms, and now every hall boasted brightly decorated Christmas trees, boughs of holly, garlands and wreaths. Every where one went nowadays they could hear someone humming a Christmas tune under their breath, meals in the Great Hall began to include some Christmas favourites and students, teachers, ghosts and house elves alike began to appear wearing some loud or ridiculous season-themed item.
Rigel absolutely refused, saying that Malfoys didn't do silly Christmas frippery. When I asked him where he got this information, as he seemed to have a never-ending list of "Malfoy don'ts" he claimed there was a handbook. I have yet to see it.
Just as we got into the warm and cheerily decorated main hall then, I spied Connor walking away in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower. He didn't look as if he had been among those who had just rushed in, but he had clearly been outside in the last few minutes. He was wearing a thick woollen winter cloak with something that looked like a comic book sticking out of the pocket.
I tried to call him back, not entirely sure what I was going to say when I did, but was stopped when Rigel suddenly turned me to face him and began to unwind my scarf from my face.
"Hey, hey… what are you doing?" I asked, awkwardly, still clutching my purchases.
"We're indoors now, do you want to roast in this thing?" he asked, in turn.
"Well, no… but I can do this myself," I replied.
"I want to help," he said lazily, and continued until the scarf hung loose round my shoulders. Then he took a moment to examine my face and grimaced slightly, wrinkling up his nose like his Malfoy grandmother.
"What?" I asked, nervously. Whenever he made a face like that looking at me, he made me feel very self-conscious, worse even than being stared at as Harry Potter's offspring.
"Nothing… it's just… well… the weather's not nice to you… maybe you can clear it up when you get into your room," he replied.
I rolled my eyes, and said, "Bye Rigel."
He grinned at me then and replied, "Bye Potter, do look out for those stairs as you go… and the wolf cub if you see him, he was looking a bit hungry in Honeydukes."
I glared at him, "You disgraceful git!"
He shrugged and turned away, "What? He was in a sweet shop."
The Fat Lady grimaced too as I finally got to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
"Oh dear, what happened to you?" she asked, dropping a ruffle of her pink frilly dress.
"Yeti, there's a storm out there," I replied.
She swung open to admit me, "Well you should be careful dear, you look awful."
I kept my grumble of protest low as I stepped through, ambled over to a sofa and sank heavily into it. But I wasn't allowed to enjoy finally sitting down for long. As my hand dropped onto my side something crackled in my pocket-Milo's packet of sweets-and with a sigh I rose and headed back out the portrait hole again to the Owlery.
Halfway down the corridor I was greeted by a rather harried-looking horned owl, dripping puddles from its perch on a suit of armour. It was Oscar, the family owl, and in his beak were the remains of what was possibly a letter from home. As I stopped looking up at him surprised, he dropped them at my feet, shook off his feathers and flew off. I guessed I was supposed to figure out what the letter said on my own.
Luckily that wasn't a problem for a witch. I simply went back to the Common Room and repaired the letter, and there read, to my horror, the same thing that Connor had told me in Honeydukes.
Dear Magnolia,
I know that you like to spend your holidays at home but I am afraid that this year you can't. Your father and I have been enlisted by the Ministry for a special mission to Eastern Europe. Your brother and Mackenzie are going to your grandparents in Nice, and since you constantly complain about it, I thought that you might want to remain at school?
Mrs Weasley is in Romania, by the way.
Love, Mum
But before I could wallow in my grief I was interrupted by someone else plopping down unto the couch I had taken before the fireplace beside me. And they said as I made to move over to give them room, "Hey Maggie, I take it you just got your letter."
I sat up again to find Connor seated beside me, in a worn old grey jumper and his uniform trousers. His face was now a healthy rose, warmed by the fire burning low before us, and he was smiling. I could not see what there was to be happy about.
"Yes, I'm stuck here too," I replied, unhappily.
"Oh it shouldn't be too bad, this is Hogwarts, and since your father rid the world of the `almighty and immortal Dark Lord Voldemort' what could possibly happen?" he asked, still cheery.
I shrugged, unable and unwilling to come up with an answer.
But soon enough we would all know what could.
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