And as I sort now, ponder war
And whether hate’s worth dying for.
I'm not much of a poet, but I'm rather proud of my song, and it's pretty vital to the story. Chapter five is written, so it won't belong before it's posted!
Chapter Five: A Warning Song by Calico
Chapter Five: A Warning Song
Tzipporah stared nervously at the students milling around her as she stepped into the lantern light of Hogsmeade Station. The older ones were strolling off the train in groups, most of them conversing in English, others in languages that Tzipporah did not know. Then a deep, guttural voice rumbled from just outside the lanterns’ glow.
“First-years and new students! Over here! First-years! New students!”
A short man with a bald head and a prominent hunchback lurched into the light, beckoning and shouting. Tzipporah and Millie forced their way against the tide of older students heading in the opposite direction.
“M’name’s Ogg,” grunted the man who had called them over. “We’d better be going now, don’t want to be late.” Without further explanation he took off into the darkness. Tzipporah and Millie followed along with the rest of the students. While most of the children behind her seemed her own age, Tzipporah noted that two dozen or so were older, and most definitely not pleased to be there. I suppose their parents sent them here to keep them safe, thought Tzipporah. I’d be upset too, if I had to switch schools so suddenly.
Ogg led them around a copse of trees, and Hogwarts castle bloomed into view against the blue-black sky. Its lights, bright and breathtaking, were reflected in the glimmering lake before them. A few dozen small boats lay anchored in the shallows, seemingly awaiting their arrival.
“Four t’ a boat, now,” was all Ogg grunted before he climbed into his own vessel. Tzipporah and Millie were shunted this way and that as students scrambled along the banks.
“Look, there’s room over there,” Millie pointed, and dragged Tzipporah towards a boat with two girls already in it.
“Can we come in here?” Millie asked the girls in the boat. They stared at her with blank, uncomprehending eyes. Millie turned to Tzipporah.
“Try asking in…what language do you speak again?”
“German, Yiddish, and Hebrew.” Not that I think they'll help much, she thought.
“Try that first one, then,” prompted Millie.
“Do you speak German?” Tzipporah asked the girls in her native tongue. One of them continued to stare, but the other responded in slow, halting German.
“I learned some in school,” she said. “I am Rosa Neuman, from Poland. This, I think, is Annika Ursulov, but I cannot understand much of what she says, she only speaks Russian.”
Millie prodded Tzipporah’s arm, pointing at the boats already drifting out onto the water. Hastily, Tzipporah turned back to Rosa.
“May we come in this boat with you?”
“Yes.”
Tzipporah nodded to Millie, and they got in. As Rosa pulled Annika over to make room, Tzipporah caught the look of mute fear on the face of the silent girl. Tzipporah could hardly bear to think how terrible it must have been for her. It was hard enough for me, and I speak English, she reflected. I can’t imagine getting through today without understanding anything people were saying.
The voyage across the pitch-black lake was shorter than Tzipporah would have thought from the span of the water. She supposed it was because of the spectacular presence of Hogwarts castle, from which the students could not draw away their gazes. The white stones of the walls shone silver in the moonlight, and the jeweled windows blinked like wise eyes at the awestruck children beneath them.
Without warning, the boats scraped bottom and Ogg motioned for them to step out onto the shore. Tzipporah pulled a rather green-faced Millie to her feet, and they followed the crowd up a gentle hill until they were standing on a flat plain of grass, the Hogwarts grounds spreading all around them. No more than a hundred paces away stood the doors of Hogwarts, thrown open in welcome so that golden light seeped out onto the dark grass.
“Ah, professor. Here th’are, sir,” Ogg said to a tall, thin figure making his way across the grounds, its face cast in shadow. But Tzipporah recognized him anyway “ it was Professor Dumbledore.
“Good, good, Mr. Ogg, I’ll take them from here.” Dumbledore turned to face the students as Ogg lurched away. “Do come along, the feast awaits you!” With a cheery smile, Professor Dumbledore strode back towards the school, the students trailing tiredly.
“I’ve had enough of this walking,” huffed Millie in Tzipporah’s ear as they neared the castle doors. “But I guess it’s better than those boats. Laird, but I am knackered.” Tzipporah gave a small smile which she meant to be sympathetic, but came out more amused. I can see I have a drama queen for a friend.
Dumbledore led the students up the stairs and into an enormous entrance hall lit by floating candles.
“Now we’ll just wait here while Mr. Ogg retrieves the Sorting Hat.” Dumbledore turned and twinkled his blue eyes at the very small-looking students before him. “In a moment each of you will have a very ancient hat placed on your head, which will decide your house. Please do not be worried,” he added, noticing the terrified looks of some of the students. “It is a very simple process. Ah, are they ready, Sir Nicholas?”
Several people screamed as a pearlescent man with an ostentatious ruff glided through the nearest wall and nodded at Dumbledore.
“Ogg has just set up the stool and the hat, Professor. Everyone is waiting.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Sir Nicholas.”
The ghost gave another nod and vanished through the wall. Tzipporah, who had been clutching her Star of David pendant in fright, turned to Milly, and was shocked to see her nonplussed expression.
“Millie,” she whispered. “That was a ghost.”
“I know,” said Millie, examining her fingernails disinterestedly. “Gloomy old hardchaws, aren’t they? I’ve got a great-great-uncle that’s a ghost. He lives mostly in me attic, but on holidays he comes down to wail at us about how we’ve forgotten our ancestors and such. What? What are you goggle-eying me for?” Millie had finally noticed Tzipporah’s shocked expression.
“Never mind,” Tzipporah muttered, rubbing her pendant. Hogwarts is definitely going to take some getting used to.
With a bang Dumbledore threw open a pair of heavy oaken doors and ushered the new students through through. The Great Hall was brimming with chatter, though the noise level dropped as the new students filed between the tables, their faces pale and apprehensive. I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, Tzipporah told herself, trying to hide her agitation. Nothing bad can happen. Without thinking, she began to mutter the words to the v’ahavta under her breath, seeking comfort in the familiar Hebrew phrases. She bit her tongue, however, when Millie twisted around to ask her what she was saying.
“N-nothing,” Tzipporah mumbled, and wondered whether she should have just told Millie it was a Jewish prayer. I’m sure she’d understand, Tzipporah thought. But I can tell her later just as well as now.
Before Tzipporah knew what had happened she was standing at the front of the Great Hall in a line of students, waiting, it seemed, for something to happen. She followed the gazes of the older students to a dirty, pointed hat slumped upon a rickety stool just a few paces away from where she stood, and began to watch it as well. Then, to her astonishment, a rip near the hat’s brim opened wide like a mouth, and, in a clear, ringing voice, it began to sing.
Since the start of this dear school
I’ve sat and sung upon this stool
My job, you see, is to proclaim
The house to which I’ll add your name.
For those of greatest derring-do
It’s Gryffindor you’re suited to
This boldest house is the best known
For being quest and battle-prone.
And as for sweetest Hufflepuff,
Hard work and goodness are enough,
For the founder’s kindly heart
Would let no student e’er depart.
Ravenclaw is for the bright
In wit its students show their might.
Their thirst for knowledge can’t be stopped
And in class they’re seldom topped.
Shrewd Slytherin of the silver-green
Is for those devious and keen
Its students have most cunning brains,
And secretive this house remains.
Into these houses I will now place
The students before my patchy face
But heed my words of warning too
For all our futures rest with you.
Both worlds are as of now divided
And by our hate we have been guided.
But if we stand, friends, side by side
We’ll overcome the power of pride.
So join, O Hogwarts, hand in hand
Be not idle “ take a stand!
For curses made beneath one’s breath
Will lead to hatred, then to death.
Listen, listen, close to me
To one who has seen history,
And as I sort now, ponder war
And whether hate’s worth dying for.
As the hat’s final words echoed through the silent hall, the soft rumbling of whispered voices began to rise like a storm wave, until at all of the tables the students were speaking with their neighbors, their comments full of confusion, alarm, and scorn.
“Both worlds?” Millie quoted in Tzipporah’s ear. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Tzipporah replied quietly, and shivered. The hat spoke of death “ but the war cannot reach here! So far from Vienna, and still I’m in danger! What would Tateh say if he knew?
It was not until a wizard at the teacher’s table sent off a few firecrackers that the tables fell into silence, although it was a tenser one than before. Professor Dumbledore got up from his seat and, with a wave of his wand, conjured a long roll of parchment in midair, which he caught nonchalantly as he strolled towards the line of new students. Then he began calling names, one by one.
“Binx, Terrence!”
A rat-faced boy stepped up to the stool and sat down. Dumbledore placed the sorting hat over his blonde hair, and it almost immediately shouted out “
“SLYTHERIN!”
The table along one side of the hall erupted in cheers as Terrence scuttled off to find a seat, a smirk on his thin face.
“Deplumbe, Jean-Paul!”
The boy who stepped out of the line this time looked deathly white, until he nearly tripped over his own feet getting to the stool “ then he turned red. The hat took a long time to decide on his house.
“HUFFLEPUFF!” was the hat’s final decision.
“Durmond, Clarice!”
Clarice was also pale as she sat down upon the stool, but her mouth was set with grim determination. I hope I look half as composed when my name gets called, Tzipporah thought to herself, watching as Dumbledore let the hat drop over Clarice’s brown bangs.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The table on the opposite side of the hall from the Slytherins burst into applause as they welcomed a now smiling Clarice to her house. Tzipporah thought she looked more relieved than anything else.
Dumbledore continued calling names for a quarter of an hour “
“Falken, Adlar!” and “Falken, Adolfina!”
“RAVENCLAW!” and “RAVENCLAW!”
“Garion, Gaelle!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Irmigard, Felda!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!
“Jurgen, Alfonzo!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“ it seemed the list would never end. Then, just after “Laos, Meg,” had been sorted into Slytherin, Tzipporah’s ears pricked up again.
“MacDougal, Millie!”
With a toss of her red hair, Millie stomped forward with her chin raised, seating herself upon the stool as though it were a throne. Tzipporah thought she saw Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle as he set the hat down on her head.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Millie skipped triumphantly to join her new table, grinning as she took a seat beside Clarice. Tzipporah watched interestedly to see what Millie’s reaction would be when she saw Edward Potter, who sat a few seats down on the opposite side of the table. Moments later Millie caught sight of her enemy and, looking positively furious, began whispering to Clarice.
“Morley, Phyllis!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Tzipporah couldn’t help feeling sorry that Phyllis was not in Gryffindor with her other new friends. But Phyllis didn’t seem to be upset; Tzipporah saw her shrug at a crestfallen Clarice as she walked across the hall to the cheering Hufflepuff table, where she was hailed by a knot of other first-years.
The line of new students dwindled as Dumbledore neared the end of the alphabet. To her horror, Tzipporah felt the flutterings of fear in her stomach as “Platt, Mischa,” joined the Ravenclaw table. Only three letters to go…
All too soon she heard her name.
“Stein, Tzipporah!”
Clenching her fists to stop her hands from shaking, Tzipporah walked what felt like a thousand steps towards the stool and sat down. The last thing she saw was Dumbledore’s encouraging smile before the hat dropped over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.
“Ah, let’s see…” said the hat inside her head. “You’ve got brains in here, my girl, and a heap of secrets too. Perhaps Ravenclaw, or Slytherin…”
Tzipporah felt a stab of longing as she thought of Clarice and Millie at the Gryffindor table. I won’t go anywhere without my friends!
“Oh, you won’t? So it’s Gryffindor you’re after…” the hat remarked, sounding amused. “Well, you’re brave and loyal, as well as bright, so I don’t see why not. If your heart’s set on that, then it’d better be “
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The last word rang through the hall, and the Gryffindor table clapped and cheered as a beaming Tzipporah practically ran to join her friends.
Nothing, she thought as Millie gave her a delighted hug and Clarice scooted over to make room, can be better than this moment. And indeed, it was to be one of her happiest nights for quite some time.
End Notes:
I know not much happened here, I just needed to get Tzipporah sorted, and start setting the theme for this book...hopefully the hat's song was enough of a clue. Anyway, here's an excerpt from chapter six:
A swastika? A muggle symbol, at Hogwarts? What can it mean?
“Zippie, are you okay?” Millie asked, catching sight of Tzipporah’s face. “You look about ready to faint.”
“Do you know what that symbol means?” Clarice asked eagerly.
Tzipporah remembered what her father had said to her over a year ago, when Tzipporah had brought home a German newspaper she had found in the street. He had told her that the day the swastika came to Vienna would be the day they left.
Tzipporah knew exactly what the swastika meant: death for the Jews, for herself.
And now the swastika was at Hogwarts. How is it possible?
“Zippie?”
Tzipporah emerged from her memories to find the four other girls staring at her in concern.
“No,” she lied. “I don’t know what it means.”
Chapter Six: Symbols and Lies by Calico
Chapter Six: Symbols and Lies
Tzipporah fully intended to tell Millie and Clarice that she was Jewish at the feast, but promptly forgot her resolution when food appeared magically on the platters before her. Carefully avoiding a plate heaped with pork and a bowl of seafood paella, Tzipporah made to reach for a slice of roast beef when she realized, suddenly, that she had no idea if it was kosher. She had always avoided pig and shellfish, as Jewish law demanded, but she had never thought that coming to Hogwarts would mean giving up meat altogether.
Well, if I must, I must. Tzipporah set her jaw resolutely and helped herself to salad, fried rice, and several bread rolls with butter, muttering the blessings under her breath.
“Mmm, try the steak, Zippie!” Millie spewed, her mouth full of red meat. She passed the platter to Tzipporah, who put a piece on her plate and began to cut it up. When Millie wasn’t looking she hid the pieces in her napkin.
The plates soon cleared to be replaced with an array of luscious desserts. Tzipporah sampled several ice creams and an excellent treacle tart, but discovered nothing to rival Maria’s apfelstrudel. It’s just as well, Tzipporah thought, pushing away her half-finished tart. It will make Maria’s cooking taste all the better when I go home.
Sleepily, the first years followed a prefect girl up what seemed to be hundreds of staircases and corridors until at last they reached the portrait of a fat lady. Upon a word from the prefect, the portrait swung to let them all clamber through a hidden hole into a warm, fire-lit common room. The prefect led them up a staircase to a large room with eight beds and left them to get settled. Tzipporah had just enough energy left to pull on her nightgown and crawl beneath the deep scarlet blankets before she succumbed to her dreams.
Tzipporah dreamt of Vienna “ its cobblestoned streets and loud marketplace, its parks and gardens, its sparkling green canal. She awoke once, in the dead of night, to find that she had been crying in her sleep, but could not remember why.
The next morning dawned steely grey. By the light from the window Tzipporah checked to see that her roommates were all still asleep before murmuring the Yotzer Hame’orot, the morning blessing, facing, as best she could tell, to the southeast where Jerusalem lay. Then she pulled her new robes from her trunk, donned them, and tied her hair into a knot at the top of her head, from which curls obstinately escaped.
“M-morning, Zippie,” Millie yawned as she caught sight of Tzipporah, fully dressed and reading her Defense Against the Dark Arts book in bed. “Give me a moment, and then we can go down to breakfast. Have you seen me trunk?”
“I saw you push it under your bed last night,” said Clarice, who had clearly been woken up by the voices around her.
The two girls got dressed in silence until Millie stubbed her toe and let out a stream of Gaelic curses, which awoke the rest of the sleepers.
“Sorry, Rosa, Annika,” Millie said as her two fellow Gryffindors rubbed their eyes groggily. The other three girls sharing the room exchanged glances and flopped back onto their pillows.
“Those are the Johnson cousins,” Millie whispered to Tzipporah, pointing at the three occupied beds. “We tried to talk to them last night at the feast, before you got sorted, but they keep to themselves.”
When Clarice, Rosa, and Annika were ready the five girls went down the common room, wondering aloud how they would ever find their way to the great hall. Luckily, a second year named Minerva McGonagall, who wore a tartan bow in her hair, was kind enough to show them the way. But upon reaching the entrance hall they were stopped by a mass of students, all of whom seemed to be crowding forward to see something in the middle of the floor.
“Clarice, go see what it is,” Millie prompted the smallest girl. Clarice nodded and darted through a knot of Ravenclaw fifth-years before they even saw her, weaving nimbly towards the source of the commotion. Within minutes she was back with her friends, her expression one of incomprehension.
“There’s some kind of symbol painted on the floor,” she reported. “I don’t know what it means. No one seems to, except a few of the muggle-born foreigners. They keep going up to touch it, and talking to each other in a different language.”
“What language?” Tzipporah asked.
“I dunno.”
“Can you draw the symbol?”
Rosa handed Clarice a scrap of parchment and a quill, and Clarice sketched a small replica of the symbol. Tzipporah saw it and felt the blood drain from her face.
It was a swastika.
A swastika? A muggle symbol, at Hogwarts? What can it mean?
“Zippie, are you okay?” Millie asked, catching sight of Tzipporah’s face. “You look about ready to faint.”
“Do you know what that symbol means?” Clarice asked eagerly.
Tzipporah remembered what her father had said to her over a year ago, when Tzipporah had brought home a German newspaper she had found in the street. He had told her that the day the swastika came to Vienna would be the day they left.
Tzipporah knew exactly what the swastika meant: death for the Jews, for herself.
And now the swastika was at Hogwarts. How is it possible?
“Zippie?”
Tzipporah emerged from her memories to find the four other girls staring at her in concern.
“No,” she lied. “I don’t know what it means.”
At that moment one of the professors pushed his way to the center of the hall, Ogg lurching along behind him with a bottle labeled Magical Mess Remover. Other professors began shooing the gawking students into the great hall. By the time Tzipporah and her friends reached the place where the swastika had been, the floor was polished clean again. Tzipporah walked across the spot with a sinking heart.
I can’t tell my friends that I am a Jew, she thought sadly. If there is this kind of hate at Hogwarts, it wouldn’t be safe. How do I know they would still want to be around me if they knew the truth? It will have to be a secret.
While her friends were distracted with filling their plates, Tzipporah quickly removed her Star of David necklace and dropped it into her pocket.
~~~~~~~~~
“Hurry up, Zippie!” shouted Millie from the entrance of one of the greenhouses, the pink gigglebloom behind her ear clashing horribly with her hair. Beside her, Clarice stood immersed in her Herbology book, unaware that a long black vine was slowly entwining itself around her ankle.
Tzipporah pulled her wand from her bag, hastily running through the short list of spells she had learned in the last three weeks. Then she squinted in concentration and aimed at the vine.
“Cenderio!”
Red sparks burst from the end of Tzipporah’s wand, shooting directly at the ebony plant. She grinned proudly as the vine retreated into the moist gloom of the greenhouse. Blessed are you, Adonai, for the magic you have given me. I don’t know how I ever lived without it!
Millie was laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Clarice’s face, drawing stares from the first year Ravenclaws who were waiting with the Gryffindors for the start of the lesson.
“Are you all right?” Tzipporah asked as she put her wand away.
“Y-yes,” Clarice stammered. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice….and that was German Blackroot, one of the most dangerous vines in Europe! If you hadn’t spotted it, Zippie “”
““ you’d be plantfood,” finished Millie. “Good thing Zip pays attention, unlike some people who spend all their time reading.” Clarice blushed and jammed her book back into her bag. “Aw, I’m just codding. But seriously, Clarice, you ought to spend more time having fun. And you too, Zippie. You’re both always studying in the evening. Why don’t we have ourselves a girl’s night this Friday? We can paint our nails “ a third year taught me the spell to do it by magic “ and share secrets, and all the rest. I bet Annika and Rosa would come too…”
Annika and Rosa, although they still often ate and studied with Tzipporah, Millie, and Clarice, had quickly become best friends. They communicated in a complicated language, midway between Russian and Polish, which baffled the rest of the first-years, including Tzipporah. At that moment they were in fact jabbering near the greenhouse door, oblivious to Clarice’s near catastrophe.
“I suppose we could have a girl’s night,” agreed Clarice. “We’ll just do our homework on Saturday. What do you say, Zip?”
Tzipporah was trying to hide her panic. That Friday was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. She had planned to sneak down to the lake after dinner to hold her own solitary service. I can’t have a ‘girl’s night’ on Rosh Hashanah! It would be sacrilege beyond anything I’ve done yet. How can I get out of it?
Why don’t you just tell them the truth? suggested a small voice at the back of Tzipporah’s mind. You don’t know that it will change anything.
No. It isn’t safe.
Tzipporah thought fleetingly of the Star of David pendant lying hidden in her trunk, along with the small tin candlesticks and prayer book her father had given her to use at school. Each Shabbat since she had arrived she had had to wait until her fellow Gryffindors were asleep before creeping out of bed to light the candles and sing the blessing in the only private place she could find “ the girl’s toilet.
As for daily prayers, Tzipporah woke up early to mutter them quietly to herself before her friends awoke. In the evenings she would murmur them in bed before she fell asleep, her words mercifully contained behind the scarlet hangings.
Then there was the problem of her father’s packages. Tzipporah had bought an owl when she and a servant had gone to buy her school equipment in Kishefberg, the only wizarding town in Austria. Now Dr. Stein was using Sove, as he had dubbed the bird, to send Tzipporah weekly loaves of challah and a pair of candles for Shabbat. These deliveries were difficult for Tzipporah to explain to her friends.
“My father is a baker,” she had lied. “He sends challah because it is my favorite. The candles are because he is afraid I will study too much with too little light and ruin my eyes. I told him he was being silly, but he won’t listen.”
“If you say so,” Millie had shrugged. Then she had torn off a large portion of the challah, munched a bit, and washed it down with pumpkin juice. “Laird, but this is good! Clarice, try some with the juice….”
And so each Friday morning the girls devoured the challah and pumpkin juice, never knowing or guessing its significance.
“Zippie? What do you say to Friday night?”
Shaken from her thoughts, Tzipporah tried to form a plausible excuse.
“Sorry, I’ve…promised to help Fonzie Jurgen with his Defense homework. Maybe another time.”
“Fonzie? Hmmm, well, you can’t get out of it without breaking his poor heart, then…I guess we can do it on Saturday.” Millie didn’t seem to mind the change, but she gave Tzipporah an appraising look as they entered the greenhouse.
Tzipporah had trouble concentrating on Professor Barwick’s lecture on Flooshing Swonker trees; she could feel Millie’s eyes boring into the back of her head, as if trying to decipher her thoughts, and couldn’t help wondering whether she might actually succeed.
End Notes:
So...things are picking up, aren't they? If you're thinking that a swastika is totally out of place at Hogwarts, don't throw a fit - all will be explained in due time.
Next chapter look out for Tzipporah's first attempt at celebrating a Jewish holiday within Hogwarts - Rosh Hashana!
Chapter Seven: Rosh Hashana by Calico
Chapter Seven: Rosh Hashana
Tzipporah had little trouble convincing Fonzie, a freckly Gryffindor first-year, to agree to tell anyone who asked that she was tutoring him on Friday night. It was commonly known that Alfonzo Jurgen was completely smitten with the bright, black-curled Zippie Stein, and that she felt nothing more than friendship for him, if of a slightly exasperated nature.
“But what are you really doing?” Fonzie had questioned her, after spluttering and blushing his way through a promise that he would do whatever she asked.
“I’m not going on a date with anyone, if that is what you’re getting at, Fonzie.” Tzipporah had rolled her eyes at him, making Fonzie blush even more under his freckles. Honestly, this boy is redder than kashrut wine, Tzipporah had thought. I don’t know what I ever did to make him like me so much.
Millie and Clarice, it seemed, had some ideas as to what Tzipporah had done, and deemed it necessary to share them with her at dinner on Friday evening.
“Obviously it’s because of your glorious curls,” Millie had grinned at her as she sliced up her ham. “Nobody’s got hair like yours.”
“That’s not true, Millie. There are at least four other girls in Gryffindor with curly hair.” Tzipporah spoke calmly, spearing a boiled potato with her fork.
“But yours is the longest, and the prettiest,” said Rosa longingly, scowling at her own frizzy tresses. “I’d give anything for hair like yours.”
Tzipporah chewed her potatoes, deciding not to tell her friends yet again that her hair was hardly the miracle they considered it.
“I think Fonzie must like you because you’re so good at Defense against the Dark Arts,” Clarice slipped in. “He definitely admires your wandwork. I heard him talking to Edward Potter about that alohamora charm you used on Daisy Hinkman’s stuck trunk lid. He kept saying ‘She’s brilliant, she’s brilliant!’”
“But we all learned that charm! Any one of you could have done it,” Tzipporah argued.
“Not me,” said Annika, stirring her mutton stew morosely. “I cannot pronounce so many of the spells. Vot a difficult language English is!”
“You’ll get it soon enough, Annika,” Rosa soothed her. “Your English is already loads bett“”
“Zippie, why don’t you ever eat any meat?” Clarice cut in quietly.
Millie looked confusedly at Clarice. “Where did that come from?”
“I’ve been wondering for a long time, only I kept forgetting to ask. Why don’t you?”
Tzipporah felt her face getting hot. She hadn’t anticipated this kind of confrontation. I didn’t think they’d noticed…
“I…I just…” Tzipporah could think of nothing to say. Her mind was a perfect blank.
“I think I understand,” Millie interjected. “You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you?”
“I “ yes. Yes, I am.” Tzipporah could have sighed with relief at Millie’s assumption. Adonai, I promise I’ll say a prayer for this tonight.
“A vegetarian?” Clarice raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“I don’t believe in the killing of animals,” replied Tzipporah, continuing the lie. It pained her beyond expression to tell falsehoods to her friends, but her fear would not let her do otherwise. Clarice dropped the subject, and talk resumed about Fonzie, spellwork, and Annika’s abysmal pronunciation. Between Millie and Clarice, how am I ever going to keep my secret? Tzipporah couldn’t help but ask herself.
After dinner Tzipporah bid her friends goodbye in the Great Hall and headed in the direction of the library. Then, just after the portrait of Mildred the Mistaken, she stopped and tapped the wall, which opened up to reveal a secret stone-paneled tunnel that she and Millie had discovered during their first explorations of the castle. Several minutes later Tzipporah emerged in the now deserted Great Hall, only slightly cobwebbier than before. Cautiously she stalked toward the front doors and glided out onto the grounds, which were already shadowed with sunset.
I’m allowed to be out, Tzipporah reminded herself. It’s not even six o’clock, and curfew is at eight thirty. I couldn’t get in trouble even if I was seen. Still, Tzipporah felt like she was doing something wrong by sneaking out alone.
After crossing the ever-darkening grasses Tzipporah settled under a small beech sapling at the edge of the lake, carefully removing the candlesticks, matches, and prayer book from her bag. She steadied the candlesticks between the roots of the beech tree and lit the candles, letting her voice just barely rise over the sound of the waves as she sang the blessing. Then she opened her book and began to pray, losing herself in the familiarity of the Hebrew words and the orange glow of the twin flames.
An hour passed; the candles became two creamy pools of wax, finally hissing into smoke as a faint wind off the water blew them out. Tzipporah sighed and closed her prayer book, wishing more than anything that she could continue to sit by the lake, frozen in that moment forever.
Adonai, forgive me for the lies I’ve had to tell my friends, Tzipporah prayed silently. I can’t think of any other way, but I’m sorry all the same because it is a sin.
Unwillingly her thoughts turned to her mother as she watched the gentle rippling of the lake water; before her mother’s death she and Tzipporah had always gone to watch the boats on the canal just as the sun set. L’shena Tovah, Mameleh. If only you were here to celebrate with me. But it makes sense that you went on. Millie said only cowards stay behind as ghosts, and you were never afraid. I wonder if you ever sat under this beech tree when you were at Hogwarts. I wonder who will sit under it after me…
Stars littered the sky by the time Tzipporah stood to leave. But as she began her walk back up to the castle, she caught sight of a strange movement at the corner of her eye.
Someone was flying out on the quidditch pitch. It was now too dark for Tzipporah to tell who it was, and she felt sure that the flier would not recognize her either. Still, she thought it might be best to hurry up to bed, just in case.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
From his height on his broomstick, Edward Potter couldn’t help noticing the figure making its way from the lake to the front doors. By the light of the ascending moon he could see long, bouncing black curls. Tzipporah Stein, he recognized at once, and grinned. Friend of my sworn enemy Millie MacDougal, crush of little Fonzie Jurgen…I wonder what she’s doing? Curious, Edward had half a mind to fly down and ask her. But he could see the girl was trying for secrecy, so he resisted the urge. Next time I see her out here I’ll ask her, he decided. Then, with a wild whoop, he turned a triple loop in the air, his mind already back on the quidditch tryouts he was practicing for. Little did he know that “next time” would be sooner than he expected.
End Notes:
Sorry this chapter was so short, it was originally part of the last chapter but it was too long so I split it. Coming up in chapter eight we have Sukkot. Obviously Tzipporah can't build a sukkah, but that doesn't mean she won't try and find a way to sleep beneath the stars. And who knows? Maybe a certain quidditch-playing Gryffindor will be out there that night too...
Chapter Eight: Beneath the Stars by Calico
Chapter Eight: Beneath the Stars
Time passed more quickly than Tzipporah could have imagined. She still often dreamed of Vienna, even occasionally had nightmares about it, but Hogwarts was already beginning to feel more like home. Some nights she even slept soundly, thoroughly exhausted by her lessons and homework.
Tzipporah was, without a doubt, the best Defense Against the Dark Arts student among the first-years. Not only did she have all the spells in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 down pat, but she had also looked up more advanced hexes and jinxes in the library out of pure curiosity. Tzipporah had never been in a duel, but she had gained a reputation for her wandwork nonetheless; none of the first years, not even the Slytherins, dared to tease or challenge her.
Charms and Transfiguration were also among Tzipporah’s strengths. She excelled in classes involving a wand. But when it came to memorizing anything besides an incantation Tzipporah was hopeless. Herbology and Potions were both difficult for her, and the dates and names involved in History of Magic were worse. As for Astronomy, it was nothing sort of nightmarish. Mathematics had never been Tzipporah’s strongpoint, and the complicated star charts turned her mind to mush. Still, with a lot of studying, and some help from Millie and Clarice, Tzipporah was getting through her work with passing marks.
Before Tzipporah knew it, Sukkot arrived. The harvest festival had always been one of Tzipporah’s favorite holidays, since her father usually took her to a cottage in the country for the week preceding it. On Sukkot they would build a sukkah “ a little makeshift shelter of sticks, decorated with hanging fruit “ and sleep inside it. Tzipporah loved lying beneath the stars until dreams overtook her, and knew she would miss it terribly at Hogwarts.
“Zippie, isn’t that your owl?” Clarice pointed out as they sat eating breakfast on the morning before Sukkot.
Sove landed beside the milk pitcher and brandished the letter on her leg, her outstretched wing knocking Millie’s bacon to the floor.
“You bowsie bird, get away from me plate!” Millie grumbled, pushing the owl away; Millie was not a morning person. In an attempt to remove her owl from harm’s way, Tzipporah proffered her hand and Sove stepped onto her wrist, orange eyes fixed reproachfully on the still very crabby Millie.
Tzipporah untied the letter from Sove’s leg and smoothed it flat. It was from her father:
Dearest Tzipporah,
Maria and the rest send their love. Your friend Channa also asked me to pass along a greeting. All is well at the office, although I have lost some of my gentile clients to non-Jewish doctors, but as that happens every so often I am not troubled by it. You mustn’t worry for me, meydeleh, as I know you always do. I am quite well taken care of here. Rabbi Herzl often drops by to sit and talk with me, and I do not want for care.
Tzipporah stopped reading, feeling reassured. He’s right, I did worry about him, she thought. But if the Rabbi is watching over him I will not be so afraid. Freed from some of her anxiety, Tzipporah went back to reading.
I do not wish to alarm you, but the tidings from Germany are becoming more serious. There is reason to believe that Herr Schuschnigg, the Austrian chancellor, is caving to the demands of the German dictator Hitler. We do not know how long he can resist the Nazi threat to the south. But you mustn’t worry for me, meydeleh. I promise you, I will be gone from Vienna before the first swastika flag enters it.
Again, I send my love. I will be thinking of you when I sleep in the sukkah tonight. This year I have not gone to the country, as it would be too lonely without you. But I will build a sukkah in the backyard. I trust you have found a way to uphold the tradition as well.
Love, Tateh
Tzipporah folded up the letter and slipped it carefully in her bag. It isn’t right that I’m not trying to celebrate Sukkot. Even Tateh is, and our backyard is the size of a bathtub! Tzipporah stirred her lumpy grey porridge with distaste, feeling guilty. Well, I can at least eat more festive food. She swapped the off-color sludge for a cup of fruit salad and delightedly tucked in.
“Oh, Merlin! It’s…it’s horrible!”
Tzipporah’s head jerked up so fast that she accidentally sent a piece of cantaloupe flying off the end of her fork. Sove caught it in her beak and gave a satisfied hoot.
“What’s wrong?” Rosa asked; Tzipporah, Millie, and Annika were also listening intently. Clarice laid her copy of The Daily Prophet on the table for all of them to see; there was a black and white moving photograph of a street of buildings in flames.
“Vot is happening in this picture?” Annika asked, her voice low with fear. “Vot is causing this burning?”
“The article says it’s a dark wizard named Grindelwald. He’s been growing in power for years, and now that he’s strong enough he’s begun his…master plan.”
Heart beating dreadfully fast, Tzipporah asked the question they were all thinking.
“What is his master plan?”
“To force the muggles into subservience under wizards and witches. To make them slaves, or else kill them.” Clarice gestured to the photo of the burning buildings. “This was a muggle neighborhood in a city in Bulgaria. He burned three whole blocks to the ground, for no reason other than hate.”
“Is that his symbol?” Rosa asked, pointing at a design on the page: a triangle containing a circle and a vertical line.
“The Ministry believes so. He charmed the smoke above the buildings so that it formed that shape.” Looking pale, Clarice turned to the styles section and hastily immersed herself in an article about the newest cut of dress robes.
First Hitler, now Grindelwald, Tzipporah thought bitterly. It seems that there are madmen in both the muggle and wizarding worlds.
Suddenly the words of the sorting hat’s song returned to Tzipporah.
“‘Both worlds are as of now divided’,” Tzipporah murmured.
“What was that?” Millie asked through a mouthful of eggs.
“I figured out what the sorting hat meant by ‘both worlds.’ Don’t you remember? He meant the muggles and the wizards. Both worlds are on the brink of war.”
“But why would the hat bother mentioning a muggle war? It would never affect us,” Millie said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Tzipporah wasn’t so sure. If the swastika could come here, who’s to say the whole of Hitler’s war can’t? Dear God, please don’t let it come to that!
~~~~~~~~~
An idea for celebrating Sukkot came to Tzipporah while she was sitting in History of Magic that afternoon. Thankfully, Professor Binns was so deaf he didn’t hear her gasp of inspiration. Millie and Clarice, however, had fully functional ears, and twisted in their seats to look at their friend.
“What is it?” Millie whispered. “Did you fall asleep and have a nightmare? I knew we should have bunked off this class…”
“Honestly, Millie, we can’t skip classes!” Clarice hissed. “And I’m sure Zip didn’t fall aslee“”
Unfortunately, Professor Binns’ vision was much better than his hearing. Tzipporah tried to indicate with her eyes that he was glaring in their direction, but to no avail. She felt a thrill of horror at the thought that Binns might set them all detentions, which would keep her from attempting her plan, but instead he took five points from Gryffindor and resumed his lecture on the Centaur Wars of 1296. Normally Tzipporah would have felt awful for losing house points, but that day she needed a free evening more than anything. Even better, by the time class ended Millie and Clarice seemed to have forgotten Tzipporah’s unexplained gasp.
It wasn’t difficult for Tzipporah to steal away after dinner on the pretext of visiting the owlry. Once again she used the secret tunnel near the portrait of Mildred the Mistaken to reach the deserted entrance hall and get out onto the grounds. The evening air was brisk but not too chilly; it was still early in October, and the trees in the distant forest retained most of their gold and scarlet splendor. The Gryffindor colors, Tzipporah thought with a smile.
Curling up beneath the canopy of the beech sapling by the lake, Tzipporah unfolded her winter cloak from her bag and swept it around her shoulders. She also fastened her Star of David pendant around her neck; she hated hiding it, but only allowed herself to wear it on holidays, as a special treat. Then she wiggled into a spot between two large roots and rested her head against the mossy ground, staring up beyond the wrinkled leaves.
This isn’t a sukkah, she thought, but I can at least see the stars.
Tzipporah smiled and began to sing the shehechiyanu prayer, her eyes brimming with starshine. Less than an hour later she was asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Edward Potter hadn’t meant to stay out flying so late, but time had run away with him. Before he knew it, he had less than ten minutes until curfew, and the whole of the Hogwarts grounds to cross. Deciding to take the shortest path above the lake, Edward steered his broom towards the great glimmering stretch of water and shot off into the darkness.
He had just reached the opposite shore when a bright silver flicker caught his eye. The flash was so similar to that of a glinting snitch that Edward looked down without thinking, prompted by a seeker’s instinct. What he saw nearly made him fall off out of the air.
There, nestled under the lone tree at the edge of the lake, quite obviously fast asleep, was Tzipporah Stein. Edward would have known those curls anywhere.
Dipping lower to the ground, Edward hovered a few feet above the dozing girl, utterly bemused. What can she be doing out here, alone and asleep? Surely she didn’t do it on purpose! But she does have her cloak with her, and she looks comfortable enough. It doesn’t make any sense, though!
Then something else occurred to him. Didn’t I say I’d ask her what she was doing the next time I caught her out here? Making up his mind, Edward glided to the ground and dismounted. When he reached Tzipporah, however, he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, or to call out. All he could do was stare.
Tzipporah had fallen asleep with a smile on her lips and her curls spilling out in gleaming coils across the roots of the tree. A star-shaped pendant gleamed at her neck, casting the bright silver glow that Edward had seen from the air. He felt his stomach give a funny sort of leap as he examined her peaceful porcelain face, and hurriedly scrambled back onto his broom. Before kicking off, Edward looked back at the sleeping figure and sighed. It didn’t seem right to leave her there, but for some inexplicable reason he felt that waking her would be the wrong thing to do.
Next time she’s out here under that tree I will ask her what she’s up to, Edward swore, angry with himself for his unreasonable fear. With a kick more forceful than he’d intended, he sped off into the night, resisting the unexplainable urge to look back.
End Notes:
What major (well, technically minor) Jewish holiday is coming up next? Chanukah, of course! Eight nights of candles and prayers...that means eight chances to get caught. Can Tzipporah get through this holiday without anyone discovering her secret?
By the way, I know I said in a review response that I wouldn't post again until June, but I mean, come on, how much do AP tests really matter in the long run?
Chapter Nine: Chanukah Revelations by Calico
Author's Notes:
Keep in mind - "Tzipporah" means bird in Hebrew. Not that Millie or Clarice would know that, but I thought it made a nice connection. And now that I have you thoroughly curious...read away!
Chapter Nine: Chanukah Revelations
“Zippie, wake up “ presents!”
Tzipporah opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She could hear her dorm-mates unwrapping their Christmas gifts, the rustling and ripping punctuated by exclamations of joy and groans of disappointment. Tzipporah got out of bed in time to see Clarice’s nose wrinkle as she held up a luridly pink sweater, which seemed to have been bought in a muggle shop.
“Mum never listens when I tell her I hate pink,” Clarice groaned. “And it must have been expensive too. This is cashmere, for Merlin’s sake! What was she thinking?”
Not expecting any presents, Tzipporah sat down across from Clarice and watched her unwrap a box of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans from Millie, a charm bracelet from Rosa and Annika, and more costly muggle clothes from her parents.
“Oh, Zip, it’s wonderful!” exclaimed Clarice when she opened Tzipporah’s gift. Tzipporah had spent two galleons (converted from Austrian schillings) on a pygmy Flooshing Swonker tree; Herbology was Clarice’s favorite subject. “Thank you!”
“It was nothing,” Tzipporah said as she carefully selected a Bertie Bott’s bean from Clarice’s box.
“What did you get for Millie?” Clarice asked, making a face and spitting out the bean she had been chewing.
“A self-spelling quill with an extra long-lasting charm,” Tzipporah replied with a smile. “You know how indecipherable her essays always are.”
Clarice laughed, then looked around Tzipporah, as if searching for something.
“Why don’t you open your presents?”
“Hmm?” said Tzipporah, still choosing a bean and not really listening.
“Your presents.” Clarice looked at Tzipporah as though she were behaving oddly. Tzipporah turned to look behind her at the foot of her bed. A pair of gifts was indeed waiting for her. Tateh already sent me my Chanukah present. Who can those be from?
“I didn’t expect…” Tzipporah broke off, confused.
“What, did you think Millie and I would just forget about you?” Clarice stood up, walked over to the pile, and tossed Tzipporah a small box. Tzipporah opened it with fumbling fingers.
Inside was a polished silver ornament in the shape of a soaring bird, its outstretched wings detailed with intricate feathers. Tzipporah held the tiny figure in her cupped palm, filled with awe at its exquisite delicacy.
“Did you buy this?” she whispered to Clarice.
“I did, and then Millie got her brother to put a charm on it. Watch!”
Clarice whipped out her wand and gave the bird a gentle tap. Immediately it leapt into the air and glided in a circle around the room before landing gracefully in Tzipporah’s hand and freezing once more.
“It’s…it’s amazing,” was all Tzipporah could say.
Too bad it will never hang on a tree.
Clarice seemed to be trying to gauge Tzipporah’s reaction, her eyes fixed intently on her friend’s face. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, Tzipporah got up and hugged Clarice warmly.
“Thank you so much. It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Clarice appeared to be satisfied. After Tzipporah had opened her other gift, which turned out to be a beautifully illustrated book on Defense Against the Dark Arts from Rosa and Annika, she and Clarice went down to breakfast. Tzipporah thought she might have been imagining it, but it looked like Clarice was watching her more closely than usual, although she hadn’t any idea why.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, do come to the great hall with me, Zippie,” Clarice begged a few hours after breakfast. “Jolene Hywel’s just been down there and she told me it looks a dream!”
Tzipporah shut her astronomy book with a satisfying thump; she had been studying for the last hour and was quite willing to take a break.
Tzipporah felt her breath catch in her chest when she and Clarice poked their heads into the great hall. Since breakfast that morning it had experienced an unbelievable transformation. Twelve spruce trees stood towering above their heads, bedecked in candles, tinsel, and glass orbs (each of which, Tzipporah discovered, contained a tiny glowing fairy). The spicy fragrance of the tree boughs mixed with the scents of Christmas dinner to form an intoxicating perfume. The walls were adorned with streamers of red, gold, and green, and piles of silver crackers already sat waiting upon the house tables. Tzipporah had to admit it was splendid, but at the same time she missed the sight of a glowing menorah and the smell of frying oil.
Upon request, Dr. Stein had not sent Tzipporah any traditional Chanukah foods after she had insisted that latkes and sufganyot (potato pancakes and jelly doughnuts) would not travel well by owl post. He had, however, sent a heap of chocolate gelt and a wooden dreidel; the former she had given away to her friends, calling it “muggle candy”, while the latter was now hidden in her trunk with her candlesticks and prayer book.
Dr. Stein had warned Tzipporah that coming home for the holiday break would have been too difficult to manage, not to mention dangerous. Vienna was still free from German control, but no one could predict for how long. When Tzipporah had told Clarice that she was staying at Hogwarts, her friend had insisted on remaining as well. Millie had tried to stay too, but had been forcefully removed by her mother on the last day of term and would not return until New Year’s Day.
I wish there was just one thing to remind me of the holiday at home, Tzipporah thought as she watched Professor Barwick levitate popcorn strings onto the nearest tree.
“Mmmm, I smell a Christmas ham.” Clarice sniffed the air and turned to Tzipporah. “Even a vegetarian can’t resist that!”
Tzipporah gave a small smile. “Trust me, I can.”
As the girls walked back up to Gryffindor tower, Tzipporah lifted her own spirits by reminding herself that Chanukah began that night. It was now too cold for her to visit the beech tree at the edge of the lake, but she had decided to at least light the candles and sing the prayers in the girl’s bathroom for the next eight nights. With so many people gone for the holidays Tzipporah was not afraid of being interrupted.
~~~~~~~~~
Christmas dinner was, as expected, delicious. Tzipporah eschewed from all the meat, but found it more difficult than usual to resist the enticing aroma of the brisket platter. It’s not kosher, it’s not kosher, Tzipporah reminded herself whenever she felt her resolution slipping, and would hastily put another green bean into her mouth.
“Zippie, the Johnson cousins invited me to sing carols with them after dinner in the common room. Want to come?” Clarice asked. “I can teach you all the English ones if you don’t know the words.”
“No, thanks. I need to study astronomy for a bit this afternoon. I’m still having trouble putting Jupiter’s moons in the right places.”
“Oh, come on, Zip, it’s the holidays! You can study when lessons start again. Even I’m not bothering, and you know how much I care about my marks.”
“No, really. I can’t sing anyway. I’d just ruin the caroling. Go on without me.”
Clarice gave Tzipporah a disappointed look but pressed her no further. After dinner Clarice joined the Johnson cousins while Tzipporah trekked up to the unoccupied dormitory with her astronomy book, struggling to forget the suspicion she had seen in Clarice’s eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
That night, after the breathing of her roommates had turned to gentle snores, Tzipporah crept out of bed and grabbed her bag containing her menorah, candles, and prayer book. Making sure not to wake any of the other Gryffindors she tiptoed down the stairs and into the girl’s bathroom.
Minutes later Tzipporah had lit the shamas and the first of the eight candles, which cast dim, flickering shadows on the tiled walls.
“A-a-men,” Tzipporah sang as she finished singing the last of the three blessings, her voice lingering over the last note. Sadly she recalled the first magic she had ever experienced, a magic somehow deeper than anything at Hogwarts: hearing the sound of her congregation singing the prayers when her parents had brought her to her first service. Singing in the synagogue was perhaps the thing she missed most about Vienna, apart from her father.
Echoes of Tzipporah’s final note were still reverberating against the bathroom walls when a noise issued from the doorway. Tzipporah knew what was coming only a second before it happened.
Clarice, wearing a robe over her nightdress, walked into the bathroom with her wand tip lit. She and Tzipporah stared at each other for a few moments by the combined light of the wand and the menorah, neither one knowing what to say.
“I knew you could sing,” Clarice said, finally breaking the silence. “I knew there was another reason you wouldn’t sing carols with me.”
Tzipporah didn’t know how to respond to this.
“So this is what you’ve been hiding, then.”
Here we go. Tzipporah gulped but stood her ground. “And what do you think ‘this’ is, exactly?”
Clarice looked unsure. “I don’t know. But Millie and I have thought for a long time that you had a secret you weren’t telling us. You’re always sneaking off when you think we’re asleep, or mumbling things to yourself. And the bread and candles your father sends once a week “ it’s all connected!” Clarice paused, seemingly amazed that her usually quiet voice could be so sharp. Tzipporah was surprised too; she had never thought her friend possessed that kind of force.
“All the nights you’ve gone missing from the dormitory, and never eating meat, and not expecting presents on Christmas…And now this!” Clarice gestured at the menorah resting on the edge of the sink. “You can’t deny you have a secret anymore, Zippie. So you’d best tell me what it is.”
Tzipporah looked down at her feet, hastily taking stock of the situation. She’s right, I can’t hide it now that she’s caught me. But what will happen when she knows?
“I guess I don’t have a choice, then.”
Clarice waited, her eyes fixed on Tzipporah’s downcast ones.
“I’m Jewish.”
Tzipporah waited for the blow to come. The gentle laughter caught her by surprise, and she looked up at Clarice warily.
“Is that all?” Clarice was smiling a relieved sort of smile. “Honestly, that’s what you’ve been hiding?”
Tzipporah nodded. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Oh, Zippie.” Clarice sighed. “You didn’t really think Millie and I would care about something like that, did you? I thought you knew us better than that.” Then her brow creased, and her countenance became a little harder.
“But I can’t believe you lied to us like that, Zip. How can we trust you after this?”
Tzipporah was having trouble locating her voice.
“Millie and I trusted you with loads of secrets. I even told you I have a crush on Prescott Longbottom.” Clarice blushed for a moment before resuming her tirade. “We both told you tons of other embarrassing things. We thought you’d told us everything as well, but now I find you didn’t “ you kept something huge from us. How do you think that makes me feel? It isn’t fair at all!”
“Not fair?” Tzipporah couldn’t make herself talk above a hoarse whisper. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. I had to hide my religion because if it was known what I was I would be hated, and scorned, and mocked. That sign on the floor of the entrance hall the first morning we were here, do you remember it? Do you? It was a swastika, Clarice! Do you know what a swastika means for Jews? Death!”
Tzipporah broke off, her face flushed with emotion. Clarice stared, wide-eyed, as she continued.
“I had to hide. Oh, Clarice, I was so scared, you don’t understand. I wanted to tell you and Millie, but after that first day, I just couldn’t…”
Tzipporah put a hand to her cheek and wondered why it came away wet. Tears dripped into her mouth, tasting of salt and sadness and fear.
“Oh, Zippie.” Suddenly Clarice’s arms were around her, and they were both crying. Somewhere in the back of her mind Tzipporah wondered why that was.
“Zippie, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Now I know, and we’ll tell Millie when she comes back, and it will all be fine. Stop “ stop crying.”
Tzipporah smiled weakly. “I’ll stop if you’ll stop.”
“Agreed,” Clarice gave a watery giggle.
They stood there in the bathroom for some time more, talking as the Chanukah candles melted down to colorful stubs in the menorah. When the light finally went out, Tzipporah and Clarice lit their wands and ascended to Gryffindor tower, still discussing the various aspects of being a Jewish witch.
Just as Tzipporah was climbing back into bed she heard Clarice gasp.
“What? What is it?”
Clarice looked at her apologetically.
“I just realized “ Millie and I got you an ornament, but you won’t ever have a Christmas tree! Oh, I feel so stupid!”
Tzipporah laughed.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
And with that, Tzipporah drifted off to sleep, feeling happier than she had done for a long time.
End Notes:
So the secret's out...to one person, at least. But as 1938 arrives Tzipporah will have other problems than this one. Grindelwald and Hitler are gaining power, Vienna - and Tateh - are in danger, and tragedy will strike. From this point on the wars take on a greater role in the lives of Tzipporah and her friends as the violence reaches even within the walls of Hogwarts.
Chapter Ten: The Spy in the Snow by Calico
Chapter Ten: The Spy in the Snow
I do love the snow, Tzipporah reflected as she rested her elbows on the windowsill in the Gryffindor common room, having completed all of that night’s homework. Beside her, Millie sat feverishly scribbling a potions essay, sending drops of ink flying in all directions, while Clarice penned a letter to her parents. Tzipporah turned away from the snow-swathed grounds and watched with lazy interest as Edward Potter mock-dueled Prescott Longbottom in front of the blazing fireplace, rooted on by a circle of older students.
Tzipporah joined in the cheer that went up when Edward executed a particularly good leg-locker curse, causing Millie to lose interest in her essay, glare viciously at her enemy, and then raise her eyebrows at her friend.
“What’re you cheering him for, Zippie?”
“It was just a fine bit of spellwork, that’s all,” said Tzipporah, turning back to the window and the view of the frozen grounds.
Urged on by Clarice, Tzipporah had immediately told Millie her secret when she returned for the start of term. She had been rewarded by a rather unpleasant and very loud telling-off, during which “I’ll never trust you again!” was uttered quite a number of times. Millie had then refused to talk to Tzipporah for three days, forgiving her only after much pleading by Clarice, and was still being rather short with her.
Clarice rolled up her completed letter, tucking it into her bag as she turned to Millie. “Are you done with that essay yet? I could go for a game of Exploding Snap.”
“No, me explanation about moonstone properties still isn’t quite “”
Millie broke off as Annika burst through the portrait-hole, speaking with more confidence than Tzipporah had ever heard her use. It took her only a moment to realize that this was because Annika was talking in Russian, and because she was shouting.
Annika’s face was bright red with fury as she stalked across the common room and flopped into a chair beside Tzipporah.
“What happened?” Clarice asked in a hushed voice.
Still shaking with rage, Annika tried to find the words in English.
“I meet a boy in our Charms class who speak Russian, and ve talk after the lesson. It is so nice to talk all in Russian again! And it is good, until he tell me he is Ukrainian, and ask me vhere I am from. So I tell him Moscow, and he begin to shout at me ‘You and your government make slaves of my people!’ and I shout back that I do not. And then I try to come back here to get away and he follow me. And I am so mad! I never do anything to Ukrainians. Vhy so much hating? Vhy?”
Annika began to sob, her words in Russian again. Clarice, always the first to offer comfort, sat down next to her and tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but Annika pushed her away gently and stood up.
“Haff you seen Rosa?”
“She’s in the dormitory,” Clarice said, pointing up the stairs.
Annika nodded her thanks and ran out of the common room, still murmuring incomprehensibly.
“How awful,” Clarice said, after Annika was out of earshot.
“Well, if the Russians really did enslave the Ukrainians, then she deserves it, doesn’t she?” said Millie mildly, finishing her essay with a flourish.
“Millie, how can you say such a thing?” Clarice gaped at her.
“Easily!” Millie flamed up. “I can’t ever forget how me people, the brave Irish, were oppressed by the English, and this Russian business sounds just the same.” She looked pointedly at Edward Potter, who was now chatting with his friends by the fire.
But that’s wrong, Tzipporah thought indignantly. This is exactly what the sorting hat warned us against, this division by hate. She had half a mind to say something to Millie, but bit back the words at the thought of starting another row so soon after she had been forgiven. Ah, well, perhaps she’ll figure things out on her own.
But as she watched Millie glower at Edward Potter, Tzipporah thought she might be expecting too much of her hot-headed, grudge-holding friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~
At breakfast the next morning, Sove soared in bearing a package containing the customary challah and Shabbat candles, and a letter from Dr. Stein. Millie and Clarice fed Sove bits of the bread and let her drink from a goblet of pumpkin juice.
Tzipporah, meanwhile, was busy with her father’s letter. It read:
Dear Tzipporah,
Tidings are darker still since I last wrote you. I have been forced to send Maria and the other servants away, as I cannot pay them any longer. All of my gentile clients now go to non-Jewish doctors, and my Jewish patients have so little money that they can barely afford food, let alone doctor’s fees. Many of them have lost their jobs. I treat them just the same, but I will not deny that times are hard. Austrian sentiment has swung towards the Nazi party, and Chancellor Schuschnigg has agreed to meet with Hitler in the next week. I fear he has not enough strength left to resist his commands. We must pray for him, and for Austria.
Your friend Channa and her family have fled to France. Her father, I believe, obtained false passports for them all with the help of a gentile friend. With their light hair and complexions they had less trouble than I have had trying to buy a boat ticket. Yes, meydeleh, I am making plans to leave Vienna. It will not be safe for much longer, and as much as I love this city I am not willing to die for it. Someday I pray we shall both return without fear for our lives.
Write to me more of what you are learning about magic. Your letters are a wonderful distraction when all seems to become unbearable. If I am able to get a boat ticket I may not be able to write for some weeks, so do not be alarmed if you do not hear from me.
A happy Tu B’shvat to you, meydeleh.
Love, Tateh
Tzipporah folded the letter, squinting against the tears that prickled behind her eyes. He’s leaving Vienna, she thought. I’ll never go home again.
Even the sound of Rosa’s intake of breath couldn’t break her stream of miserable thoughts. Distantly, she heard Clarice ask Rosa what was wrong. Tzipporah turned to look at Rosa and saw that her face was deathly white.
“It’s…my mother.” She held a letter in her trembling hands; some of the ink seemed to be blurred by water-stains. Unable to speak, she held out the letter to Clarice, who took it gingerly and began to read, her eyes slowly widening.
“I forgot a book in the common room,” Rosa mumbled. “I’ll meet you in Transfiguration.” She got up and stumbled out of the great hall, weaving like a drunk.
“What does that letter say, Clarice?” Tzipporah asked. I will not think of my own problems when my friends need me, she resolved.
“It’s from her aunt. It says…it says…oh, Merlin…”
“Go on, then!” Millie pressed impatiently.
“Yes, sorry.” Clarice scanned the letter, her mouth hanging open in horror. “It says Rosa’s mum went with some of her neighbors to offer help to a nearby muggle village that was attacked by Grindelwald. They thought he had gone, and wanted to help the injured, and the ones who had lost their homes and families. But Grindelwald came back while they were there and starting attacking them too. Most of the witches and wizards are dead.” Clarice’s voice broke, and she handed Tzipporah the letter, unable to go on.
“Grindelwald took a few of the witches and wizards captive, including Rosa’s mother,” Tzipporah forced herself to say. “He’s taking them to the prison he’s built in the east.”
“Nurmengard,” Clarice whispered. “I read about it last week in the Daily Prophet.”
Clarice, looking like she was barely holding back her tears, put a comforting arm around the silently crying Annika. Millie, however, had a hard, determined look on her face, like someone about to enter a battle.
“She needs us right now,” Millie said firmly.
“Haff we got time to find her before Charms?” Annika snuffled. Millie checked her watch and nodded.
“Let’s go, then.” Clarice stood up from the table, then seemed to remember something. “Zip, what did your letter say? Is everything okay at home?”
Tzipporah spoke quietly. “My father’s leaving Vienna. The Germans are coming soon, and when they do all the Jews will be rounded up, maybe killed.”
“Oh, Zippie.” Clarice squeezed Tzipporah’s hand. “You’ll get back there someday. I know you will.”
“Yes.” Tzipporah stopped halfway up the staircase, staring down at the hall below her, which was mobbed with students walking to class early. If she didn’t look too hard, it could have been a busy, bustling street in Vienna’s Jewish quarter.
“Hey, isn’t today a holiday for you?” Millie asked, clearly worried by Tzipporah’s sudden lapse of attention. “That one you told me is about trees?”
“Tu B’shvat. Yes, it’s tonight.” Tzipporah had almost forgotten.
“Want us to come with you to celebrate?”
“No. I think Rosa needs you more right now. Stay with her tonight.”
Clarice nodded her acquiescence. Together she, Tzipporah, Millie, and Annika set off for Gryffindor tower to find Rosa and offer what comfort they could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A full moon beamed brightly overhead as Tzipporah beat a path through the waist-high snowdrifts between her and the beech tree by the lake. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? she thought in frustration as she was forced to stop for the tenth time and adjust her cloak. The spell she had put on her boots seemed to be keeping the snow out of her socks, but her uncharmed scarf wasn’t doing as much good for her face. Already her nose felt red and raw from the wind, and her hair was frozen stiff. Why does that beech sapling have to be the only tree on these grounds?
After many slips, trips, and Yiddish curses, Tzipporah found herself at the foot of the familiar beech tree by the lake. Muttering a quick prayer of thanks, she rested her forehead against its trunk, thinking of the many times she and her mother had celebrated Tu B’shvat together in the Prater Park.
Trees can speak to the soul, her mother had said. You must love the trees, meydeleh, for they are God’s children just as much as we are. Then she had always laughed her rich, bubbling laugh and kissed the nearest tree before kissing Tzipporah on top of her head.
Tzipporah grinned at the memory, momentarily forgetting the cold. Mameleh might even have kissed this tree when she was here, she thought. So wonderful was this idea, and so beautiful were the tree’s spreading boughs in the silvery moonlight, that Tzipporah threw her arms around it and kissed it.
“Snogging trees, are we?” said an amused voice behind her.
Tzipporah nearly jumped out of her skin. Spinning around in shock, she was just in time to see Edward Potter emerging from out of thin air. He seemed to have pulled off a cloak, but she knew he hadn’t been standing behind her moments ago. Or had he?
“What are you doing out here?” Edward asked, with a half-smile. Only the hazel eyes behind his glasses betrayed any sense of apprehension.
“I might ask the same question of you, Potter.” Tzipporah didn’t know where this cool retort came from, but she could feel her icy face blushing beneath the frostbite. He just saw me kiss a tree! A sudden heated anger pulsed through her frozen frame as she pulled her wand from her pocket. She could not remember ever feeling so embarrassed, or so furious. What right does he have to be out here spying on me?
Regretting that he had startled her, Edward took out his own wand and used it to cast a warming spell on himself and Tzipporah. To his surprise this only served to increase Tzipporah’s wrath.
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” she said icily, folding her cloak tighter around her and beginning to walk back in the direction of the castle. Edward stared after her for a second, then snapped into action.
“Hey, wait up!”
Tzipporah whirled around. “Why should I? You were spying on me!”
“I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t…”
Tzipporah waited for him to finish. When he did not, she gave an impatient “ach!” and continued walking, kicking a path through the untouched snow.
Edward stopped walking, not knowing what to say. He had, in fact, followed Tzipporah entirely for the purpose of spying on her. He hadn’t been able to resist when he had seen her creeping across the entrance hall from under his invisibility cloak.
“Look, I’m not going to chase you, okay?” Edward called out. Up ahead, he saw Tzipporah pause, listening. “I didn’t mean to spy, I just wondered what you were up to. Don’t get mad!” he said quickly, as Tzipporah bristled. “I won’t do it again. But if you ever want to tell me the secret you’re hiding, I’ll be around.”
Edward turned and walked back to the tree to wait for Tzipporah to get a ways ahead before following; he knew her reputation for defensive spells and didn’t fancy being on the receiving end of one of her infamous jelly-legs curses.
Up ahead, Tzipporah stumbled through the snow, her black curls a riot in the whipping wind. And to think I cheered him on this morning, she thought, disgusted with herself. I’m beginning to finally see why Millie hates that Potter boy so much!
End Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I looked forward to writing it since the story began, but it was strangely difficult to get right. The whole kissing-a-tree thing was a little throwback to my favorite book as a kid, Walk Two Moons, by Sharon Creech.
Anyway, now that Edward knows something's up, what will he do? Just to whet your appetites, I'll tell you this: the next chapter is titled The Detention, and anyone who's been paying any attention at all should know who the detentionees will be.
Chapter Eleven: The Detention by Calico
Chapter Eleven: The Detention
Tzipporah awoke the morning after her confrontation with Edward Potter to discover that Rosa was not in her bed.
“Her auntie came and took her home to Poland for a little while,” said a dispirited Clarice as she and Tzipporah walked to breakfast; they were both early risers, unlike Millie, who was still asleep. “I’m worried, Zip. What if in prison Rosa’s mum gets k “”
“Don’t say it,” Tzipporah snapped, her eyes squeezed shut. I know what it’s like to lose a mother, she thought, desperately hoping that she wasn’t about to cry. I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain upon my worst enemy. Well, perhaps Potter…
Tzipporah opened her eyes and saw that Clarice was looked at her cautiously, as though expecting her to lash out again. The remorse Tzipporah felt bubbling in her stomach did not help her mood much, and neither girl spoke until they reached the great hall.
“Why is Edward Potter staring at you?” Clarice asked hesitantly after several minutes of tense quiet. Tzipporah’s head whipped around, her eyes blazing; Edward was indeed watching her, but looked away hurriedly when she caught his eye.
“I’ve no idea,” Tzipporah said coldly, turning back to her untouched scone. “I don’t feel well, Clarice. I think I’ll go to the hospital wing.”
Before Clarice could speak Tzipporah was on her feet and heading for the entrance hall. But she had barely gone ten steps when a light hand fell upon her shoulder, forcing her to stop.
“Tzipporah, are you alright?” asked an irritatingly familiar voice.
“I’m absolutely fine, Potter. What do you want?”
Tzipporah glared at the thin, bespectacled boy in front of her; Edward, however, refused to be cowed, especially in front of an avid audience of Gryffindors.
“Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry again about yesterday. But are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re awfully pale.”
Tzipporah rolled her eyes and made to stalk off, but Edward blocked her path. Patience exhausted, Tzipporah pulled her wand from her robes, pointing it directly at Edward’s heart.
“Miss Stein!” exclaimed an angry voice from behind her. With a sinking feeling, Tzipporah turned to face Professor Bainbridge, the dour Astronomy teacher.
“Five points from Gryffindor for spellwork in the great hall,” said the professor to Tzipporah, who was glaring at the ground, struggling to control her fury. She couldn’t believe her ears when she heard Edward speak up again.
“But she didn’t even cast a spell, professor!”
Professor Bainbridge raised his eyebrows.
“Mr. Potter, I suggest that you and your friend go back to your table and sit down, before you get yourselves into any more trouble.”
As the professor walked away, Tzipporah rounded on Edward, her gaze so piercing that he actually took a few steps back.
“I don’t need you to look after me!” Tzipporah hissed. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Fine!” Edward shot back. “That’s fine by me! Next time, I’ll let you get in trouble! But this wouldn’t have happened if last night you hadn’t been “”
“SHUT UP!” Tzipporah screeched in terror. Would he actually say ‘kissing a tree’ in front of the whole school? she thought, panicking.
“Miss Stein, Mr. Potter, detention!” said Professor Bainbridge; Tzipporah hadn’t even seen him come back over. “The both of you will come to my office tonight at seven o’clock. Now get back to your seats, or else leave the entrance hall if you cannot restrain yourselves.”
Tzipporah’s face went very, very pale. For a moment, Edward thought she might faint. Then she turned and ran out of the hall, her black curls bobbing behind her. As he watched her race up the stairs, Edward felt despondency overcome him. Now I’ve really botched it, he thought as he left the hall, deaf to the shouts of his friends still sitting, confused, at the Gryffindor table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madam Pomfrey could find nothing wrong with Tzipporah, but as the girl was very white and seemed close to tears, she thought it best to let her stay and rest. After the nurse retreated into her office, however, Tzipporah ripped back the sheets of her bed and began to pace the floor of the hospital wing, unable to banish her wild, tormenting thoughts.
First Potter catches me kissing that tree, and now I’ve got a detention with him! How did I get myself into this mess? I must be the most miserable girl at Hogwarts…
Tzipporah changed her mind on this last point when her friends came to visit that afternoon during break.
“What’s the news?”
Annika spoke stuffily, as though she had only just stopped crying. “Professor Dumbledore told us after Transfiguration that we haff no chance getting Rosa’s mother out of Nurmengard until Grindelvald has been defeated, and he is the most powerful vizard in the world! He is never going to be defeated!” Annika’s composure broke as tears began to flow down her cheeks. Clarice put an arm around her and tried to look brave, although Tzipporah noticed her eyes were suspiciously red.
“Rosa’s going to stay with her aunt for just a week, then she’ll come back,” Millie finished over Annika’s sobs. “She’s going to have to live with her now, during school holidays, because her father died in the Great War.”
Tzipporah stood silent, feeling horrible. I can’t believe I’ve been so selfish. All day I was thinking about Potter, when I should have been praying for Rosa!
Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Annika behind to administer a Calming Drought, so Millie, Clarice, and Tzipporah were forced to set off for Astronomy without her. Tzipporah prayed quietly as she walked, chanting prayers for the strengthening of Rosa’s soul and the protection of her mother. Millie and Clarice whispered “amen,” then continued to walk in silence.
Upon reaching the classroom they took seats and dutifully opened their books, but Tzipporah knew that her friends, like her, had minds too full to listen to Professor Bainbridge’s dull discourse on the constellation Sagittarius.
It is almost as bad as losing my mother all over again, thought Tzipporah. Almost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Edward could not fail to notice the despondent expression upon Tzipporah’s face that night in the Gryffindor common room. He himself wasn’t very pleased about that evening’s detention “ it meant he was missing Quidditch practice “ but he could tell that the first-year girl was much more upset than he was. She and her friends sat isolated in a dark corner, quills hanging listlessly over their untouched homework as they spoke in gloomy murmurs.
As Edward watched the dreary group Millie caught his eye, and for a moment Edward thought she was going to whip out her wand and curse him, so deep was the hatred in her eyes. Steeling himself, Edward got to his feet and walked over to the enemy camp.
“It’s about time for our detention,” he said lamely. Tzipporah nodded, not looking at Edward, and got to her feet.
“We’ll bring your things upstairs for you, Zippie,” said Clarice.
“Good luck,” offered Millie, before glaring pointedly at Edward, who tried to look unfazed.
“See you tonight,” Tzipporah muttered. Without waiting, she walked out of the common room through the portrait hole, forcing Edward to run to catch up with her in the corridor.
“I’ll bet you a galleon she’ll jinx him before the night is out,” said Millie as the portrait hole closed.
“Oh, she wouldn’t!” Clarice exclaimed, biting her lip. “Would she?”
“Vot are they fighting about, anyway?” Annika wondered aloud.
Millie shrugged. “Who knows? It hardly matters. I’m just glad she seems to have finally figured out that he’s an evil toerag.”
Simultaneously the three girls looked to the portrait hole, all of them wishing they could see Tzipporah and Edward through the thick stone walls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Ah, good. You’re on time,” said Professor Bainbridge, barely glancing up from the stack of essays on his desk. “You will be polishing the telescopes in the Astronomy tower as your punishment. I will inspect your work in the morning, so be sure that you are thorough.”
Professor Bainbridge pulled a bottle of Magical Mess Remover and a pair of rags from a desk drawer and handed them to Edward and Tzipporah.
“I expect you will finish by midnight at the latest,” said the professor, already looking back at the essays. “Now get moving. And I don’t want to hear any more shouting matches.”
Tzipporah left the office hurriedly, Edward right behind her.
“Whew, Bainbridge is a right old codger, isn’t he?” said Edward as they walked; the silence was becoming excruciating. Tzipporah gave him an empty, detached look and did not respond. It seemed to Edward that even her curls had lost some of their bounce. Did I really cause this? he couldn’t help asking himself.
“Look, Tzippor “”
“Potter, I’m not in the mood for more apologies, okay? Let’s just get this detention over with.”
“Alright.”
The two Gryffindors reached the Astronomy tower and made their way to the cabinet containing a hundred or so large brass telescopes. Edward tried the cabinet door. It was locked.
“Alohamora!”
Tzipporah’s spell sent the door banging open; it hit Edward squarely in the nose, knocking his glasses to the floor.
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Here, let me,” Tzipporah gibbered, dropping her wand in shock at what she had done. I didn’t mean to hurt him, the stupid git…
Edward put a hand to his sore nose, rubbing it as though he couldn’t believe what had happened. Then, to Tzipporah’s amazement, he smiled.
“I think that was plenty of revenge for my spying, wouldn’t you say?”
Tzipporah crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at Edward. I just hit him in the nose and he’s smiling? The boy must be crazy.
“Well, we’d better get started on these telescopes,” said Edward lightly, retrieving his glasses and Tzipporah’s wand, which she took without thanking him. Edward picked up a telescope from the cabinet and carried it to a table. Tzipporah made to do the same and felt her muscles protesting against the weight of the telescope; she could not lift it.
“Need a hand?” Edward offered from his seat at the table.
If I don’t let him help me we’ll be here all night, Tzipporah thought resignedly.
“Yes, please,” she grumbled, and watched as Edward lugged a second telescope to the table and set it down beside his own. Then they picked up their rags, sprayed Magical Mess Remover on their respective telescopes, and began to polish.
After a half hour of scrubbing Edward could no longer keep up his smiling façade. Tzipporah refused to be cheered by his constant stream of merriment, barely allowing herself to laugh at his jokes and stories. To make things worse, the large tower windows looked out upon the Quidditch pitch, where his team was practicing without him. It made him wish he had never tried to help Tzipporah. Why did I even bother? She obviously hates my guts, like her friend Millie. Edward sighed, gazing longingly out the window, and abandoned his attempts at cheeriness. He continued to sigh at intervals for the next few minutes, something that Tzipporah could not fail to notice.
It’s my fault he’s here in the first place, she thought a bit guiltily. It was his fault as well, but mostly mine. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. And he really is trying to apologize, in his own way. The least I can do is do the same.
“I’m “ I’m sorry I made you miss your Quidditch practice,” she said quietly, making Edward jump in surprise.
“Um, thanks. But it wasn’t your “”
“I shouldn’t have been “”
“Really, it was all my “”
Edward gave an embarrassed laugh and looked at his feet. Tzipporah could feel her cheeks reddening as their mumbled apologies fell off into an awkward hush. Then “
“Is Quidditch…I mean, is it fun?” Tzipporah asked.
“Fun?” Edward grinned. “Quidditch is wild, amazing. The feeling of being up there, in the air, free in every direction “ it’s the best feeling there is.”
Tzipporah smiled; it reminded her of those nighttime flies she’d used to take above Vienna in her sleep, before she’d known she was a witch.
“Flying must be really hard, though.”
“Yes, I guess so,” said Edward. “Learning the moves is difficult at first, but once you get them it’s all about flying without thought, because you don’t have time during a game to think about executing a turn or a twist. You have to be watching out for the other players, and the Bludgers, and the Snitch “”
“Hold on, what are Bludgers and Snitches?” Tzipporah interrupted. Edward looked aghast.
“Haven’t…haven’t you seen a Quidditch match before?” Tzipporah shook her head. “You mean you haven’t come to one single match this year? There have been four already, and two with Gryffindor playing!”
Tzipporah looked away from Edward’s indignant eyes, feeling foolish. She had, in fact, spent the time during the matches studying with Clarice; she had never liked Muggle sports much, and hadn’t thought Quidditch would be any different. She was quickly reconsidering that, however.
“Well, I’ll just have to explain it to you, then.” Having gotten over his shock, Edward now seemed quite keen on telling Tzipporah everything he knew about his beloved game. “We’ll start with the seven players and their positions…”
And so the detention passed, the number of telescopes left to be polished slowly deteriorating until they were all spotless and gleaming on the shelves. But Tzipporah and Edward were still talking as the sun set outside the window and the candles around the walls lit themselves, bathing the tower in a warm yellow glow.
“And then the seeker, Thompson, caught the snitch from right under McCafferty’s nose, and won the Cannons their first ever World Cup!” Edward finished with a victorious grin as though he, not Thompson, had achieved this miracle. Tzipporah laughed out loud, as unabashedly delighted as Edward.
At the same moment, Edward and Tzipporah seemed to realize that their chore was done, and so they locked up the telescopes and left the Astronomy Tower, heading for the Gryffindor portrait hole without breaking off their conversation.
“Quidditch sounds incredible,” Tzipporah sighed as they passed a portrait of a fat gray pony. “If only…”
“If only what?” Suddenly Edward wondered if he had gone too far “ for the past few hours they had been discussing Quidditch, the way friends might have done. But would Tzipporah really confide in him?
“I…” It looked as though Tzipporah was having the same qualms as Edward. Can I really trust him? Are we friends now, or was this just for tonight? Does our camaraderie end the moment we reach Gryffindor Tower?
“I’d…I’d kind of like to play Quidditch myself now, after hearing so much about it,” Tzipporah admitted, taking a chance. “But I don’t have a broom, and besides, I’d never make the team.”
Edward thought for a moment, then said, “I could help you.”
Tzipporah frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I could give you Quidditch lessons. You could borrow my friend Prescott Longbottom’s broom. That is, if you want to.” Edward looked as though he had just bowed to a hippogriff and was waiting to see if it would bow back.
This is the only way I’ll ever get to play Quidditch, thought Tzipporah, weighing her options. I can tell Edward no, and we’ll stop talking, stop being friends, if that’s even what we are…or I could say yes, and learn to fly…
“How’s Wednesday?”
“What?”
“I said, how is Wednesday, for the first lesson?”
Edward shook his head vigorously before replying, as though to clear it.
“Wednesday’s perfect. Six o’clock then?”
They had reached the deserted common room. Somewhere above my head, Millie is asleep. What will she say when she finds out that I’m learning Quidditch from the son of Admiral Potter?
“Six o’clock it is,” said Tzipporah, and skipped up the stairs to her dormitory, leaving Edward standing below her, grinning, it seemed, for no reason at all.
End Notes:
So Edward and Tzipporah are (sort of) friends...hmm, how will that work out?...
Coming up next chapter is Passover, which, as you may know, sometimes falls in March. Imaginary chocolate frogs to anyone who knows what happened in Austria in March 1938!
Chapter Twelve: Matzah and Mistakes by Calico
Chapter Twelve: Matzah and Mistakes
“Heads up!”
Tzipporah spun in midair just in time to see a scarlet ball zooming right for her face. With a neat swerve she darted out of its path and caught it with both hands, laughing aloud at the shocked look on Edward Potter’s face.
“I thought for sure I’d gotten you that time,” Edward said as Tzipporah tossed the Quaffle back to him. “I’ll bet if you tried out for Veruca Williams, my captain, she’d let you on the team, at least as a reserve Chaser. You’re already better than I was at the beginning of this year.”
Tzipporah tried not to look too smug at this praise. Quidditch feels even more amazing than Edward said. I can’t believe I didn’t try this before. Grinning impishly, Tzipporah grabbed the Quaffle from Edward’s arms and soared, spiraling, upwards into the indigo sky. After a moment Edward’s superior broomstick caught up with the battered old model she had borrowed from Prescott Longbottom, but she executed a sudden loop that sent her gliding in the other direction.
“I give up!” shouted Edward, panting slightly, after five minutes of tailing the elusive Tzipporah. By Merlin, the fact that she can outdistance me on that old Silver Arrow must mean she’s got talent. “Let’s stop, it’s getting too dark to see.”
The two Gryffindors met on the ground a moment later; Tzipporah dismounted with the grace of a natural flier and handed the Quaffle to Edward, who would return it to the Gryffindor changing rooms later. Together, they began to walk back up to the castle where dinner awaited them.
“Hungry?” asked Edward as they neared the lights of the front doors. “I know I am, after the paces you put me through tonight.”
“Yes, I am. But all I’ve got to look forward to is more matzah.” Tzipporah sighed; it was only the fourth day of Passover, and already she found herself drooling over the forbidden bread, rice, and cakes on the Gryffindor table. But I shouldn’t complain, Tzipporah reprimanded herself. These holiday traditions, along with my prayers, are all I have left of home.
“What’s matzah?” Edward asked, and Tzipporah froze, searching desperately for a lie.
“It’s Austrian,” she said hastily. “Here, there’s some in my bag.” Tzipporah took out a box, from which she pulled a long, thin cracker-like square of matzah. Breaking off half for herself, she handed a piece to Edward, who took a tentative bite.
“It doesn’t…there’s not much flavor,” said Edward, trying not to sound too critical. I hope she doesn’t jinx me for insulting her traditions, he thought worriedly.
Tzipporah laughed. “That’s because it’s supposed to be eaten with horseradish or charoset. One it bitter, the other sweet. You can try them both at dinner, if you want.”
“Sure," said Edward. "I’d love to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t wait for this week to be over,” sighed Clarice quietly, glaring at the piece of matzah Tzipporah offered her. “I miss the challah.”
Tzipporah munched her meager supper and did not answer; she rather missed leavened bread too, but it wouldn’t do to say so “ it would only weaken her resolve further. Clarice didn’t know it, but she had come close to sneaking a treacle tart the night before at supper, only just stopping herself at the thought of what her father would have said if he’d known.
“Hey, this isn’t half bad!” exclaimed Edward, spreading more horseradish on his matzah and taking an enormous bite. “What’s it called again?”
“At home we say khreyn, or maror.” Tzipporah watched in fascination as Edward ate the last of her horseradish with apparent enjoyment. “I’m surprised you like it, actually. Most people find it too spicy.”
“Well, it does clear the sinuses,” Edward admitted. Tzipporah smiled, but it lasted only a moment. From across the great hall, Millie was glaring at her and Edward.
“Uh oh,” muttered Clarice, following Tzipporah’s apprehensive gaze. “I’ll go talk to her, shall I? She’s just being overly dramatic, as always." Tzipporah was not at all relieved by this. “I’ll meet you in the library,” Clarice called as she picked up her bag and hurried over to the infuriated Millie, steering her out of the hall before she could send any curses down the Gryffindor table.
“Still hates me, doesn’t she?” said Edward quietly. It wasn’t really a question. But as much as it pained him to know that his friendship with Tzipporah caused her so much stress, he was thrilled that she kept coming back. He and Tzipporah had been practicing Quidditch together for more than a month now, and although he often observed her pleading and arguing with Millie on his behalf, she never once mentioned ending their friendship. Evidently she refused to be disengaged due to her friend’s prejudices; he had to admire her for that kind of strength. Not that I need any more evidence of her steel, Edward reminded himself. Tzipporah’s obviously brave if she’ll spend multiple nights on the grounds alone, and pull all those stunts on a broom!
Tzipporah ground the remains of her matzah into crumbs, feeling downhearted. Why can’t Millie just let her anger at Edward go? Doesn’t she see how nice and funny he is? Where does her hate come from?
Suddenly Tzipporah’s flow of thought was broken by the unexpected arrival of Sove. The exhausted owl swooped low over the heads of the staring students, landing heavily beside Tzipporah’s plate. Bound to Sove’s leg was a short scrap of parchment, which seemed to have been scrawled in great haste. Tzipporah knew that owls seldom came during meals other than breakfast, so it was with a sense of dread that she broke the wax seal of the letter and began to read.
Tzipporah “
The worst has happened. The Germans have taken our Austria. Even as I write I listen for the sound of SS men at the door; it will not be long now before they come for me.
Do you remember the Heldenplatz Square, where you used to walk with your mother when you were very young? That is where Hitler came to make his speech of blood and death to the cheering Austrians, who greeted him with flowers and applause. Truly Austria is not a home for us Jews any longer.
Maria has agreed to hide me in her apartment for as long as she is able, and I hope that I shall last this war there, or perhaps escape to the west in secret. Prey for me, meydeleh. I will send more letters when I can. Do not write to me, it is too dangerous for us both. I do not think the Nazis could reach you at your magic school, but I will not take the risk.
With all my love,
Tateh
Tzipporah stared blankly at the letter in her white hands, uncomprehending. Surely there is some mistake? Surely this is a joke? Tateh must have escaped! He cannot be trapped! He cannot die!
He will not!
“Tzipporah?”
Edward’s voice was concerned, his expression confused. As though in a dream, Tzipporah felt herself walking away from the table and out of the great hall, abandoning her bag and her supper, as a horrible numbness clouded her mind. With only a moment’s hesitation, Edward followed.
Tzipporah could feel the tears brimming behind her eyelids, but would not let them fall until she was alone, completely alone. Finding the familiar tapestry of Mildred the Mistaken, she entered the cobwebby passageway and lit her wand. just as someone called out, “Wait!”
Tzipporah turned to see Edward right behind her, wand-tip alight.
“Will you please stop running away? I only want to help.”
Silently she looked down at the letter in her hands, then handed it to him. While he read, she allowed the tears to fall freely.
What have I just done? wondered a small, fearful corner of her mind. But the choice had been made, and all Tzipporah could do was stand, and cry, and wait.
“Oh, Tzipporah.” Behind his spectacles, Edward’s eyes were wet too. Striding forward he wrapped his arms around Tzipporah in a strong hug, letting her sob on his shoulder, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the passage.
After several minutes Tzipporah was sufficiently calm to stem her tears. At the same time, the two children seemed to realize that they were still holding one another and broke apart, feeling awkward.
“You really don’t care that I’m Jewish?” she whispered, not daring to look up at Edward.
“Not one whit.”
Tzipporah’s dark eyes brightened. Hesitantly, she smiled, and Edward smiled back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
Tzipporah shook her head. “No. I just want to think. Will you stay?”
Edward nodded and put an arm around her shoulders.
The minutes lengthened, but Tzipporah felt no desire to move from where they sat in the shadowy passageway. Only one thing tugged at her otherwise calm mind, one thing she needed to make absolutely sure of…
“Edward?” Her voice was tight with fear in a way that Edward had never heard it before; usually she was so vividly animated, so brave.
“Yes?”
“Will you promise me something?”
Edward grinned. “Sure.”
“You can’t tell anyone that I’m Jewish, okay?”
Edward looked at Tzipporah quizzically. “Alright. But I don’t see what the big deal is “”
To his alarm, Tzipporah tore away from him, suddenly looking upset.
“I knew you’d say that. I knew you’d say, ‘It’s no big deal.’ But it is, Edward, don’t you see? Don’t you know what they might do to me if they find out?”
“Who, Tzipporah?”
Tzipporah paced back and forth across the passageway, twirling a curl around her finger in agitation. “That’s just it. I don’t know. It’s the ones who drew the swastika that first morning of term, the ones who follow the Nazi beliefs. The trouble is, I don’t know who they are. But if they find out there’s a Jew at Hogwarts…”
Edward caught Tzipporah’s arm, stopping her mid-pace, and turned her so that they were facing each other again. “I won’t let them get you,” he swore.
“Then don’t tell my secret,” she repeated stubbornly.
“I promise I will never tell your secret, Tzipporah Avigail Stein,” Edward affirmed. “Never.”
Outside the hidden passageway, a Ravenclaw fifth-year stood with his ear pressed to the tapestry, a twisted smile on his lips. He had heard something that would interest his mates, something that would bring new vigor to their nightly meetings. With one finger the boy stroked the swastika tattoo on his muscled forearm, already forming a plan in his mind. The little Jewish girl was as good as theirs. Before suppertime tomorrow she would wish she had never come to Hogwarts.
End Notes:
In chapter thirteen we reach the climax of the story - I won't say any more than that.
Chapter Thirteen: Betrayed by Calico
Chapter Thirteen: Betrayed
The next morning when Tzipporah awoke, she sat up in bed, closed her eyes, and prayed. She prayed for her father, hidden in Vienna; for Rosa’s mother, imprisoned in Nurmengard; and especially for Millie, whose intolerant fury seemed to have been strengthened by Tzipporah’s new friendship with Edward. Adonai, keep us all safe, she thought. It feels as though nobody is safe anymore.
“Where were you after supper last night, Zippie?” Millie asked as she combed her fiery hair. “Clarice and I waited for you in the library for ages.”
Tzipporah stopped buttoning her jacket and tried to think of an excuse. I can’t tell Millie I spent the whole evening with Edward, she’s livid enough as it is. So what do I say?
“Zip? You alright?” Clarice looked curiously at her friend’s torn expression.
“I’m just hungry, is all.”
“Let’s go to breakfast, then,” Millie said, “I’m starved.” Glad to have avoided an interrogation, Tzipporah followed her friends down the spiral staircase and into the common room.
Almost immediately Tzipporah knew something was wrong. The common room, usually so loud late on a Saturday morning, was crowded but eerily quiet. The silence had that odd quality of a conversation quickly terminated when the person whom it is about enters the room. Tzipporah looked around at her fellow Gryffindors, dread weighing her down like a stone. None of them would meet her eyes.
Catching sight of Fonzie Jurgen sitting in a nearby armchair, Tzipporah hurried over.
“Fonzie, why’s everyone so quiet?” she asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence. To her dismay, Fonzie lurched away from her, scrambling to the edge of his seat and looking petrified.
“Keep away!” he screeched, his skin milk-white behind his freckles. “Don’t touch me! And don’t take out your horns!”
“My what?” Tzipporah gasped, incredulous. “Fonzie, what is going on?”
“Don’t you know, Jew?” said a brittle voice behind her.
Tzipporah spun around and found herself facing a pair of fourth-year boys with leering smiles. They were a good three heads taller than her, and had their wands pointing at Tzipporah’s head. She wasn’t surprised when one began to speak in German.
“So, little Jew, thought you’d just come to Hogwarts and hide what you are? Thought you’d blend right in with us good Christians, did you? Well now the secret’s out, scum, and I’m gonna teach you to keep to your place! Fodius!”
Pain cut down Tzipporah’s cheek as the Stinging Hex swiped across her face, leaving the skin blotchy and red. Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach, but beneath that stewed terror. How did everyone find out my secret?
The Gryffindors around the room began to move when they saw the hex hit Tzipporah full in the face, whether to help or harm her she didn’t know. Not waiting to find out, she drew her own wand and screamed “Stupefy!”
Her first attacker was blasted off his feet and fell in a heap by the fireplace. Before his mate or the Gryffindors had time to look back at her, Tzipporah had escaped through the portrait hole, Clarice and Millie right behind her.
“Who told them?” Tzipporah panted once she and her friends had found an empty classroom to hide in. “Who was it?”
Clarice and Millie exchanged anxious looks.
“Well you know it wasn’t us, Zippie,” Millie said loudly. “Even though you have been acting like a prat, hanging out with that Potter all month, I’d never be a traitor. I’d never tell your secret.”
I’d never tell your secret. I will never tell your secret.
“Edward,” Tzipporah breathed. “It was Edward.”
Millie stared at her friend, exasperated. “You told him? Even after I warned you? Oh, Zippie!”
Tzipporah shook her head, forcing back the tears that prickled underneath her eyelids. I can’t believe he would do something like that…but no one else knew.
“What do I do?” she asked helplessly. “Everyone will have heard by now.”
“Zippie, they can’t all react like that!” said Clarice, looking angry. “We didn’t! And I’ll bet most of the Gryffindors didn’t feel the same about you as those two fourth-years. More people will be on your side than you think.”
But Tzipporah shook her head. “Look at Fonzie. You both know how fond he was of me before, and then he heard what I am and…” She could not bear to reiterate the awful superstitions about Jews he had screeched at her. He really thought I had hidden horns? Foolish, idiot boy.
“Let’s go to Dumbledore,” advised Millie. “He’s the Deputy Headmaster, after all. He’ll know what to do.”
“He’d probably bring me to Headmaster Dippet, and I’ll get sent home,” said Tzipporah thoughtlessly, then she flinched as she remembered the letter she had received from her father the day before. I don’t even have a home to go back to.
“Zippie? What is it?” Clarice asked, watching as the misery on her friend's face deepened. “There can’t be…worse news?”
“My father’s in hiding now. The Nazis are in Vienna. So if I have to leave, I’ve got nowhere to go.”
“He will not make you leave Hogwarts!” Millie insisted. “Dumbledore won’t let him! Come on, Zippie, we’re going right now to figure things out. We can’t hide in this classroom forever.”
The truth of this statement prompted Tzipporah to follow her friends into the corridor and down a staircase to Dumbledore’s office. As they walked, Clarice and Millie shot anxious looks at Tzipporah’s pale face, but did not say a word. They knew it would do no good.
The three girls made their way down to the first floor, Millie leading the way while Clarice kept watch behind them. Tzipporah couldn’t help trembling as they passed the doors to the great hall. They must all know by now, she thought desperately, listening for the sound of her name over the chatter. Even if Dumbledore doesn’t care that I’m Jewish, they won’t want me around causing trouble. They’ll make me leave just to keep the peace.
“Dumbledore’s office is just around that corner,” Millie said, pointing down the long corridor. “Do you want us to come with you?”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
With a plunging of her heart Tzipporah turned slowly to face the speaker. Half a dozen students stood before her, their wands raised lazily, wide grins on their faces. The gang was comprised of three Ravenclaws, a Hufflepuff, and the two Gryffindor boys Tzipporah had fought in the common room less than an hour ago. Despite their different houses they had the appearance of a strongly bonded unit, which was further intensified by the fact that they all had blond hair, blue eyes, or both.
Tzipporah didn’t need to look for the swastikas tattooed on their arms or sewn onto their wristbands to know that these were Muggleborn German witches and wizards, trained by the Hitler Youth long before they had ever known about Hogwarts. Chin raised in futile defiance, Tzipporah made to reach for the cypress wand in her pocket.
“I don’t think so, little Jew!”
A Ravenclaw girl disarmed Tzipporah with a mad laugh, snatching her wand from the air the way a toad gulps a fly. Tzipporah felt Millie and Clarice move protectively to either side of her, clutching their own wands. Clarice was shaking very slightly, but Millie looked raring to go.
“Keep out of this, you two,” sneered the tall, broad-faced Hufflepuff boy. “You needn’t be hurt for the sake of this scum, if you’re good Christians.”
Millie spat at the boy’s boot; his sneer turning to a grimace, he shied away angrily.
“Have it your way, then. Crucio!”
Tzipporah closed her eyes, expecting the pain to come, but it never did. Instead, she heard a loud grunt and a rumbling thud as something hit the far wall, and felt the wooshing of a spell as it missed her curls by a wandswidth.
“Run!”
That voice was achingly familiar. Tzipporah opened her eyes.
Edward Potter was dueling the two Gryffindors at once, while Prescott Longbottom and Phyllis Morely battled the Hufflepuff. Farther down the corridor, Rosa and Annika had ganged up on the Ravenclaws, and a dozen other students Tzipporah didn’t know were sprinting down the corridor to join the battle. Eager to help, Tzipporah grabbed her wand from where it had fallen on the floor and aimed at one of the Gryffindor boys.
“Tzipporah, you have to run!”
Tzipporah turned in time to see Edward crash to the ground, hit by a jet of red light. A deep rage filled Tzipporah, blossoming out from the center of her chest, until she felt she would burn with the force of it. How dare they attack my friends? How dare they attack Edward?
“Wingardium leviosa!”
The force of Tzipporah’s spell sent both of the Gryffindor boys shooting into the air, where they cracked their heads on the ceiling and went limp. At almost the same time Millie, Clarice, and Prescott Longbottom managed to Stun the Ravenclaw girl. The rest of the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuff, catching sight of their fallen comrades, spun on their heels and fled up the corridor, cursing in German as they ran.
Tzipporah got to her knees where Edward lay, feeling for a heartbeat. To her immense relief, she found that he was breathing normally, though he would not wake.
“I think he’s been Stunned,” said Prescott calmly, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek. “Don’t worry. Madam Pomfrey will sort him out.”
“Zip, you all right?” Millie asked; in spite of her torn robes and mussed hair, she could not have looked more pleased with herself. “We really showed those damn Nazis, didn’t we?”
“It would seem that you have.”
Dumbledore’s soft, solemn voice made them all jump. In the small portion of her mind not occupied by worries about Edward, Tzipporah wondered what was going to become of her now.
“Miss Stein, if I might see you in my office, please?” Dumbledore gestured to a door a few paces down the hallway. “Mr. Potter will be well taken care of, I can assure you. Come along.”
Not daring to look up into those piercing blue eyes, Tzipporah followed Dumbledore into his office, leaving her friends, rescuers, and the fallen behind her in the silent corridor.
End Notes:
Unfortunately, there are rediculous stereotypes out there about Jews having horns, etc., and they still exist today. I wish I could say I made it up for fictional purposes, but I didn't. Coming up next chapter is some, but not all, closure to this story. Then there'll be the epilogue, in which a lot of things I've been hinting at will become clear.
Chapter Fourteen: The Coming of the Wars by Calico
Chapter Fourteen: The Coming of the Wars
“Please sit down, Miss Stein.”
Tzipporah lowered herself into the spindly chair opposite Dumbledore and tried to be calm, tried to stop imagining all the terrible magical punishments she might be about to face. Or worse, the nonmagical ones. I’ll be sent away for sure, and the Nazis will get me, and…
Dumbledore interrupted these thoughts with a question.
“Would you care for a lemon drop?”
“A lemon drop.” Tzipporah stared, dumbfounded. “A lemon drop. Professor, I’ve just been attacked, by Nazis, at Hogwarts. I thought things would be different here, safer than Vienna…but not even my friends were safe.” She choked off, picturing Edward, sprawled on the ground, motionless. “I want to know what’s going to happen next “ I can’t stand not knowing!”
Dumbledore did not look angry at this outburst. If anything, he was more solemn than before.
“If the truth is what you desire,” he began with a sigh, “then you shall have it. War is what will happen.” Dumbledore pressed his fingers together at the tips and gazed over them at a silent Tzipporah. “War in both worlds, muggle and wizarding. And I do not believe that the conflicts are unconnected. For a great number of years I have feared this; now that the time has come we must do what we can to face the evil, and eventually defeat it. I have plans, measures set against the enemies of peace. There is much for us to do “”
“How can I help?” Tzipporah interjected. “I want to fight evil! I want to destroy it! Please, sir, I have to!”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “My dear Miss Stein, I think it would be best if you see to your studies first. When you have completed your education we can return to the subject of fighting evil.”
Tzipporah frowned. “But I can’t just stay here knowing that a war is going on, and doing nothing to stop it.”
“Then pray.”
Tzipporah knitted her eyebrows. “But I won’t be praying to your god. Doesn’t that matter?”
“I believe that no prayer goes unanswered, and that all gods are one god,” Dumbledore replied. “Your prayers will do good as long as they are sincere. That is all that matters.”
Dumbledore smiled and proffered the lemon drops once more. Tzipporah took one this time.
“Now, Miss Stein, on to other matters. I am aware of your father’s circumstances and have made arrangements for you this summer. You see, a number of wizarding families are willing to host students that cannot return home, and I have taken the liberty of adding your name to the list. I think you will find your assigned family very amiable. Do you have any objections?”
“No, sir, except…who is the family, exactly?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “The Potters.”
Tzipporah was unable to suppress a smile.
“I think they’ll do very well, sir. But I need to know “ what is going to happen to those…those Nazi students?”
Immediately Dumbledore’s eyes turned icy cold. “They will be punished, severely. I think suspension until the end of the year will do them good, and afterwards they will be given a choice: Either they can put aside the teachings of Hitler, or they can find another school of magic. But I am sure Headmaster Dippet will agree that Hogwarts will not tolerate such hatred and violence.”
“Sir? What do I tell the others? The ones that just found out that I’m Jewish? I don’t know how to explain anything.”
“That is for you to decide,” Dumbledore said. “But when the time comes to face them, I think you will be surprised how little explaining you will need to do.”
Tzipporah got to her feet, feeling somewhat better. “Thank you, professor. May I go see Edward now?”
“But of course.”
As she shut the door behind her, Dumbledore called out once more.
“Oh, Miss Stein, I nearly forgot. From this point onward the meats sent to the Gryffindor table will be kosher, so there is no need to abstain. We've had to begin ordering them specially from a wizarding deli in Prague. I do hope this will make mealtimes easier for you.”
Unable to find the right words, Tzipporah simply beamed. Judging by the way Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at her, he understood perfectly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tzipporah spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing with her friends and rescuers, waiting for Edward to regain consciousness. Madam Pomfrey had been unable to awaken him by magical means, but promised that he was in no danger.
“His body is resting, that’s all,” she had told them. “Why don’t you lot get some lunch? He may not wake until evening, anyway.” It could not have been clearer that the nurse wanted the hospital wing to herself, but Dumbledore had sent a note allowing them all to stay, and she couldn’t argue with that. It also did not help that, being only three years out of Hogwarts, she hardly looked older than some of the students she was trying to command.
“Fine, then, but be quiet, for Merlin’s sake,” Madam Pomfrey sighed as Tzipporah shook her head. Grumpily the nurse picked up several bottles of potion and headed towards the occupied beds at the other end of the room. Tzipporah’s eyes followed her until they fell upon the two unconscious Gryffindor boys whose skulls she had cracked against the ceiling less than an hour ago. The sight of them made her shiver.
“Tip “ Sip “ Zippie,” stammered a second-year Hufflepuff girl named Daisy Deakin, who had come to help Tzipporah as a part of Edward’s gang. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes, fine,” Tzipporah said, staring at the plain white sheets on Edward’s bed, the edge of which she was sitting on. He looks so peaceful lying there, like he’s sleeping. Mameleh looked the same way when she was “
No! He’s not dead! Tzipporah twirled a curl on her finger nervously, feeling horrible for having thought such a thing. He didn’t die, Madam Pomfrey says he’s fine.
“Zippie, everything’s safe now,” crooned Clarice, as Millie slipped an arm around Tzipporah’s shoulders. “Stop worrying.”
“I have to worry.” Tzipporah could not meet anyone’s eyes, even though the entire group was watching her. “If something’s wrong with Edward, it’s my fault.”
Immediately a chorus of protesting voices erupted around her.
“Don’t be stupid,” scoffed a Ravenclaw named Barcelo Navone good-naturedly.
“It’s not like you attacked them,” agreed Letty Johnson, Tzipporah’s dorm-mate, with a toss of her hair.
Prescott Longbottom punched Tzipporah gently on the arm. “I wish you wouldn’t take responsibility for all this, Zippie. You were just defending yourself. Edward’s the one that burst into the great hall and started stirring people up for a battle. He made it sound so dangerous that we were the only ones who would volunteer.”
Tzipporah examined her rescuers intently for the first time. She knew three or four of them to be Edward’s Gryffindor friends, but others were older than second-year, and from different houses. She recognized a shy Ravenclaw girl named Mischa Platt from her Charms class, along with her old friend Phyllis Morely from Hufflepuff. There were a few older students as well, from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, and standing to the back were a pair of Slytherin third-years, looking almost as surprised as Tzipporah to find themselves there.
“I don’t really know what to say to you,” Tzipporah began. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did, and I’m so, so thankful.”
“Zippie, we all know magic isn’t about what a person believes, or where they come from. It’s about what those beliefs and experiences help us to do with our magic.” Clarice gave Tzipporah a smile, then elbowed Millie in the ribs.
“Ouch! Oh, er…yeah, Clarice is right. They,” Millie tipped her chin at the battered students at the end of the row of beds, “were too thick to understand that.”
“Thank you,” Tzipporah repeated, overcome. “Thank you, for all of it.”
“You’re quite welcome, I’m sure,” said someone behind her.
Tzipporah spun around. There, sitting up in bed and putting on his spectacles, was a grinning “ and most definitely alive “ Edward Potter.
“Edward!” Tzipporah didn’t know what happened to her for a few moments; her legs felt soft as applesauce, and time suddenly stopped. Then, somehow, she was hugging Edward so tightly that he had to fight to breathe, and she did not care that Clarice was smiling in amusement, or that Millie seemed to be torn between acceptance and animosity, or even that Prescott Longbottom was hooting with laughter. Edward was right there, looking at her, and beaming, and she was not scared anymore.
“Tzipporah, it wasn’t me.” Edward’s eyes pleaded with her, begging her to understand. “I wasn’t the one who told. Those Gryffindor boys “ they said their friend heard us talking last night, and that’s how…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tzipporah said simply.
Edward leaned back on his pillow, clearly relieved. “How’re you doing?” he asked, so quietly that the others couldn’t hear.
Tzipporah narrowed her eyes playfully. “I’m not the one who’s been lying in the hospital wing for nigh on three hours. How are you doing?”
Edward winked. “I’m absolutely spiffing, actually. Want a game of Quidditch?”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Potter!” screeched Madam Pomfrey, striding up the aisle with a flask of nasty-looking puce potion in her hand. “You need rest! I’m keeping you till after supper. And now that he’s awake the rest of you can skat. Go on, Dumbledore said you could stay until Potter got up, and now he has, so out!”
The group dispersed reluctantly, still discussing the battle as seriously as seasoned veterans.
“Meet me by the beech tree after dark,” Edward just had time to whisper as Tzipporah followed her friends out the door. “And bring a broom.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At eight o’clock Tzipporah bid Millie and Clarice goodnight and left the common room, clutching Prescott Longbottom’s broomstick. As she crossed to the portrait hole several students waved or called out greetings, mainly the ones who had followed Edward to the battle. Others raised books to cover their eyes, or sidled up the stairs to their dormitories. Tzipporah watched Fonzie Jurgen’s cheeks redden as she passed, but he did not say anything to her, nor she to him.
Outside on the grounds Tzipporah mounted her broom and zoomed off over the verdant grass, heading for the glimmering lake and the beech tree beside it. She squinted into the pink light of sunset, trying to see whether Edward had arrived yet, but could discern nothing in the glare coming off the water. Suddenly a dark figure darted out from around a turret, his glasses flashing and his grin wide.
“Did you bring a quaffle?” Tzipporah called as Edward caught up with her.
“No playing tonight. Just flying,” he called back.
Tzipporah didn’t argue; that was what she’d been hoping for. Together they wheeled and twisted, testing the limits of the sky, diving down between the towers and castle walls, and screaming with glee all the while.
The moon was above the horizon by the time the two children dismounted at the foot of the beech tree, windswept and exhilarated. Simultaneously they collapsed against the convoluted roots, talking boastfully of the Quidditch matches Gryffindor would win the next year, with Tzipporah as a Chaser and Edward as Seeker. Veruca Williams, the captain, had already promised Tzipporah a spot on the team.
“I hate that it’s going to end,” Tzipporah said a time later, looking wistfully at the castle. “I know we’ll come back in September, but the summer seems so long from this end of it.”
“We’ve still got nearly three months to go!” laughed Edward.
“That’s no time at all,” sighed Tzipporah. “I dread the summer.”
“Hey, don’t forget where you’re going this summer,” Edward reminded her. “My place is plenty exciting. We’ll have a roaring good time.”
Tzipporah smiled. I’m sure I will. Still, England isn’t the same as Vienna, or Hogwarts. There was so much that was happening now, and so many things that had changed that could never go back to the way they once were. Tateh is in hiding, Rosa’s mother is a prisoner, Vienna is captured, and the wars haven’t even truly begun…
“Edward, what do you think’s going to happen now?”
Edward stared out across the starlit water. “You told me Dumbledore said that war is coming. So that’s what’ll happen. War.”
“But do you think…my father, and Rosa’s mother…do you think they’ll be alright?” Tzipporah held her breath, afraid of the answer.
“I dunno. I don’t think anyone can know that. My Dad’s told me about wars, and they’re pretty awful.”
Tzipporah nodded, glad he hadn’t tried to lie. The truth might sting, but at least Edward wasn’t treating her like she couldn’t handle it. His confidence in her courage made her feel stronger.
“Your father “ is he really…I mean, did he actually “”
“Yes, he’s an admiral.” Edward did not look offended. “And yes, he fought against the Irish, like Millie told you. But I think he’s always regretted it. He’s a wizard, you know. He only joined the navy because he loves to sail. He hates to see people killed, and when he came home from that war he was real depressed. He’s been on leave for a year, but he’s written to tell me he’s going to fight again, in this war against the Axis Powers. He still hates killing as much as ever, but after I tell him about you and those Nazis,” Edward shot a look at Tzipporah, “I think it’ll be a bit easier to fire at ‘em.”
They fell into thoughtful silence for a while longer, Edward fiddling with the loose twigs in his broom tail, Tzipporah playing with the pendant around her neck.
“Tzipporah,” Edward said suddenly, “I wish you wouldn’t worry. There’s not much we can do. We’re just kids. Wars aren’t for us.”
“Not yet.” Tzipporah watched the play of moonlight on the lake, then turned and shot Edward a daredevil smile. “But we can do little things now, like the battle we had. And someday we’ll be able to fight for real, and we will, won’t we? Against Hitler and Grindelwald?”
“’Course we will,” Edward agreed. “But let’s not talk about that now. I’ve got five more years, and you’ve got six. Why not be kids while we can?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Race you to the other side!”
Laughter echoed across the grounds that night, and the children thought no more of wars. They soared and smiled and schemed, and that was enough for them both.
End Notes:
So that's that! If you didn't quite pick up on it, everyone else knows what's going on between Edward and Zippie, except, it seems, Edward and Zippie themselves. But don't worry. They'll work things out. Just wait for the epilogue!
Author's Notes:
Here, finally, is the conclusion to my tale. Enjoy!
Epilogue
Manchester, 1944
“Look!”
Edward tore his eyes away from the parchment in his hands and followed Tzipporah’s gesture. In the apple tree above their heads, two brilliant red birds were trilling merrily, darting in and out of the leafy canopy. Edward smiled briefly and went back to his letter. Tzipporah rolled her eyes. Ever the same. He saw his friends last week, and still he wouldn’t put down Prescott’s letter for the world. Then again, she reminded herself wryly, I’m just the same when Millie and Clarice write to me.
“I’ve got splendid news,” said Edward, folding up the parchment and tucking it into the pocket of his Muggle-fashioned pants. “Prescott and Clarice are engaged.”
Tzipporah laughed aloud, brimming with happiness for her friends. “I knew it couldn’t be long. Prescott has been after her since his fourth year, and she’s been crazy about him since our first. When’s the wedding to be?”
“September,” said Edward, somewhat distantly. Tzipporah did not miss his distraction, and her heart jolted suddenly. Maybe today, finally, after weeks of waiting…
“I suppose that’s as soon as Clarice’s parents would allow,” said Tzipporah, still watching Edward carefully. “A three-month engagement is the proper thing, I suppose, but it seems a bit silly in their case. The Durmonds are awfully old-fashioned, don’t you think?”
Edward grunted noncommittally. He was gazing out over the trees and the river, his hazel eyes far-off and thoughtful. Tzipporah could not help looking too.
Manchester’s Heaton Park was more familiar to her now than any park in Vienna, for she and Edward had come here every summer since the wars began. In that time she had never once been home to Austria, or even heard news of her father. But these worries were few among the many she had endured in her time at Hogwarts.
Tzipporah’s years at school had grown steadily darker from the onset. With the coming of the wars came news of murders and madmen, disappearances and unexplained disasters, and not only in the Wizarding world. Less than half of the students seemed to care about the World War raging alongside their own, but the Muggleborns could not help but take notice. Phyllis Morely lost her father in the carnage of Normandy, and at almost the same time Patrick, Millie’s elder brother, fell at the hands of Grindelwald’s followers when he tried to help a halfblooded friend. Few students had remained unscathed by either or both of the wars. Tzipporah counted herself among the lucky to have heard nothing of her father; the hope that he still lived, slim as it was, was better than mourning.
But there had been more than outside wars to contend with. In Tzipporah’s sixth year and Edward’s seventh, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. For months the school seemed close to an end, especially after a young Muggleborn girl was slain by the monster. Hogwarts was saved only when the Heir of Slytherin was discovered and expelled, although Dumbledore kept him on as a gamekeeper, which Tzipporah did not entirely understand. But then, who ever understood Dumbledore? The whole affair, on top of everything else Tzipporah had to worry over, had made sixth year a most straining one. And yet, despite all that, it was also Tzipporah’s favorite year, for it was in the spring of 1943 that she and Edward began their courtship.
Neither was really sure how it had happened. They had gone to Hogsmeade with a group, and ended up mysteriously alone in a sunny, secluded corner of the village. When they entered, they came as friends, but when they left, there had been some barely distinguishable change, some clicking into place of head and heart. They walked back to the castle hand in hand, and by suppertime everybody knew that the Head Boy and Zippie Stein were “going together”.
Tzipporah sighed, recalling that day fondly. Of course, Millie and Clarice had orchestrated their private corner in Hogsmeade; at the time she had wanted to hex them, but now she was unutterably thankful. She tried to keep her eyes on the twinkling of the River Irk that ran straight through the park, and the emerald green of the surrounding grass and trees, but she could not help looking sideways at Edward. If only he’d ask me now, I think I could fly without a broom, I’d be so happy.
But he won’t. Tzipporah’s sigh brought Edward’s mind out of the clouds and back to the reality of what he had told himself he would do this morning. And yet everything had seemed much easier over a plate of his mother’s poached eggs and toast. Now, with Tzipporah sitting beside him, unconscious of the beautiful twist of her curls, and the way the twinkle in her dark eyes both burned and froze him “ unconscious, in short, of how difficult it was for him not to kiss her now, in front of all the park-goers around them “ now, he felt like a second-year again, uncertain whether he would receive a smile or a jinx in response to his question.
I’ve just got to grit my teeth and do it, he told himself, putting a hand to his coat pocket, where a gentle lump indicated the offering waiting there. Of course she’ll say yes. Why wouldn’t she?
But the logical, reasonable voice in Edward’s head was drowned out by one much less assured. She’s just finished at Hogwarts. She’ll want to get a job. Isn’t she always going on about starting Auror training with me? There are so many things she’ll want to do before she gets married. And she’s just said she doesn’t like long engagements. She’ll refuse. I know she will.
Then, mercifully, Tzipporah’s voice broke through Edward’s tangled mess of thought. “Want to take a stroll by the water, like old times?”
Edward smiled. “Like old times, yes. Let’s go.”
They made cordial conversation about Prescott and Clarice’s upcoming wedding as they walked, neither truly engaged in the topic. For her part, Tzipporah was silently planning her own wedding (If I ever am to have one, she thought dully). Edward, his forehead creased, looked pale enough to be sick as the two halves of himself argued incessantly.
What kind of Auror will you make if you can’t even get down on one knee and propose? the cruel voice asked. What kind of Gryffindor are you, for that matter?
“It’s time to be heading back,” said Tzipporah sadly, watching the reflection of the cherry-colored sunset in the water. “Your parents will worry about us.”
“No, they won’t. They know what I came here to do.”
Edward took a deep breath, took the velvet box from his coat pocket, and fell to his knee before Tzipporah.
“Marry me?”
Tzipporah took Edward’s hand and pulled him to his feet, standing closer to him than she had ever dared before.
“Yes,” she murmured. Edward’s face split into a grin, and he nearly dropped the ring as he removed it from the velvet box and slid it onto Tzipporah’s finger.
“I just have one question,” said Tzipporah, relishing the way her shoulder felt pressed against Edward’s as they walked slowly up the path.
“What’s that?”
Tzipporah’s eyes glinted wickedly. “What took you so long?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
London, 1945
King’s Cross was as crowded as Tzipporah had ever seen it. Cries of welcome and wails of despair sliced the air like curses, paining Tzipporah beyond words. The woman behind her was laughing with joy as she embraced her emaciated husband, while a teenage boy sobbed not ten paces from her. A man, the one who had given him the bad news, was patting him on the shoulder, but Tzipporah knew he did not feel it. The person he had waited so long for, prayed and fasted for, would not come off any train. That may be me tomorrow, or today, thought Tzipporah, shivering.
She had been coming to the station every day for a week now, ever since Austria had been liberated by the Allies. With the arrival of every express from Vienna her heart beat wildly, only to settle into its usual drudging rhythm when her father did not emerge, tall and limping and alive, from the crowd. Some days Edward came with her, but that morning he had been called away on urgent Auror business that could not be put off. Tzipporah knew it was irresponsible of her to be taking so much time away from her own training, but it was no use trying to work when she knew her father could be thrust at any moment, dazed and alone, into the unknown streets of London.
“Excuse me, sir,” Tzipporah tapped a corpulent station guard on the shoulder, making him jump. “Do you know when the two-thirty train from Vienna will arrive?”
“Should be right soon, ma’am,” said the guard, checking his pocket-watch. “It were dee-layed a bit near Bristol by a falled tree, but it go’ through alright an’ it’s a-comin’ now, s’far as I know.”
“Thank you,” Tzipporah smiled and turned away to hide her excitement. Could it be today, after so many days?
Several minutes later a gleaming black engine pulled into platform seven and Tzipporah pushed her way through knots of people, hoping against hope that this time would not turned out like all the others, praying that her hopes would not prove false and foolish.
The cycle Tzipporah had learned by heart in the past week began again in the usual way; the doors of the train opened, and a line of frightened, half-starved foreigners poured into the dingy London light, blinking and clutching ragged suitcases or patched hats, or nothing at all. Then came the first cry, a cry of pure exultation, and a woman broke from the crowd of spectators and into the arms of a bushy-bearded man, who dropped his carpetbag and kissed her there before the bustling mob. Other reunions followed “ and then came the screams. News, passed in German words (Tzipporah had trouble understanding now, it had been so long) was spreading, news of who had been killed by Nazis and who by Austrians, who by bullet and who by starvation, who in the light of day and who beneath the shelter of guilty darkness. Tzipporah wanted to cover her ears against the keening moans, but instead she stood on her toes and scanned the faces of the people still straggling off the train.
And then she saw him, saw him, and knew it was him even beneath the grey in his beard that had never been there before, knew him even without his brown suit and red handkerchief, knew him simply because she could never not know. Tateh. He was here. He had survived.
“Tateh! Tateh!”
Tzipporah could not make her voice heard above the chaos of the station noise, but she fought her way forward, keeping her father’s face within sight, because she could not, would not, lose him again…
“Tateh!”
He had heard her. Slowly, as though he had not dared to believe it could be, Dr. Stein turned his head and met his daughter’s eyes for the first time in nine years.
“Tzipporah.”
Tzipporah could feel the tears on her cheeks as she hugged her father tightly, grimacing at the thinness of his arms and legs, the hollows in his face, the shadows lurking behind the joy in his eyes. But it will be all right, Tzipporah promised herself. I will take care of him, and he will get better and look better. Everything will be better. Now I will even have somebody to give me away at my wedding!
“Come, Tateh, I’ll take you back to my apartment and make you a good meal. Ach, you are so thin! I’ll make Klöße and maybe some tafelspitz, if I can find a kosher deli…”
“Meydeleh, I do not think my stomach can handle such rich cooking,” said Dr. Stein, smiling tiredly. “Perhaps broth with vegetables, and some fresh bread. And then a good long nap.”
“Of course, Tateh. Whatever you’d like. But there is one thing I will make that you must have at least one bite of.”
“And what is that?”
“Apfelstrudel.”
Dr. Stein laughed the long, crackling laugh that Tzipporah remembered. “Ah, how could I say no to apfelstrudel?”
Together Tzipporah and her father left King’s Cross, already speaking of the years they had passed in separation, sharing all the stores of memory they had tucked away for the day of their reunion. Behind them in the station lay misery and pain, but before them, spread across the city, grew a hundred chances, a thousand opportunities, a million dreams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vienna, 1961
It was home, and yet it had changed, as had everything. The war was over, but it had left scars. Tzipporah was not surprised to see that the Jewish quarter had been remodeled “ her father had warned her long ago what to expect “ and that the place where her house had stood was now a hat shop. The synagogue was a ruin, though the graveyard was intact; few pre-war buildings had been left unscathed by the Nazis. There was nothing familiar about Linke Weinzeile Street anymore. But an old pain throbbed in Tzipporah’s heart as she gazed out over the Danube canal. Still the memories of her childhood haunted her. She was sure they always would.
“Maybe it was a mistake coming back here,” said Edward, looking at his wife nervously. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tzipporah?”
“No, I’m not. But I needed to come back.” I needed to see it once. But more than that, I needed to share it with Edward. And with…
“Here, give me James.” Tzipporah held out her arms, and Edward placed their one-year-old son into them. James warbled and shook his fists as his mother held him up in the air, showing him her city. The child I never thought I could have, and the only child there is to be…he must understand his past, his heritage. It must not be lost.
“This is where you are from, mayn yingl. This is where your grandparents lived, and where they are buried.” Tzipporah could now smile at the thought of her parents: Mameleh, a mere whisper of a song in her ears, and Tateh, her beloved Tateh, who had died just a month before James’ birth. They survived only in a handful of photographs and Tzipporah’s memory. She and Edward and James would visit their graves after they left the canal. But just then Tzipporah could feel their spirits on the water, and she wanted James and Edward to feel them too.
“This doesn’t have to be the last time,” said Edward. “We can buy a house here, and visit in the summers, or during Christmas…”
Tzipporah shook her head, her mind made up. “There is nothing for me here anymore, hartse, you know that. Everyone I knew is gone. The city I knew has changed. I’ll always love it, but it isn’t like Hogwarts.” A small smile flitted across her face as she remembered the promise Dumbledore had made to her: You will grow to love it as much as Vienna. And she had. Hogwarts was steadfast and sturdy. It was like Avalon, shrouded in magical mist so that it did not change the way the rest of the world did. That was one place Tzipporah could always call home.
Darkness fell around the couple and their son as they stood on the bridge in silence. By the time the first stars glittered into being James was asleep in his mother’s arms. Glancing at his watch, Edward yawned pointedly.
“Very subtle,” laughed Tzipporah, kissing Edward on the cheek. “We can visit their graves tomorrow, I suppose, and Apparate back in the afternoon.”
“Whatever you like, dear,” agreed Edward sleepily. “But are you sure you don’t want to stay longer? You know the Auror office has given us two weeks leave.”
“I know. But I want to get back home. Clarice and Prescott have promised to come by and show us little Frank. And besides,” Tzipporah looked out over the city lights, and then over the canal, “I’ve seen all I need to see.”
Edward put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and drew her to him, hazel eyes bright. For a moment they swayed there, with the dark water flowing below them, and then they kissed, a sweet, lingering embrace that did not wake the baby in Tzipporah’s arms.
“Ready go?” asked Edward.
“Yes. It’s time.”
They walked across the bridge, the moonlight reflecting off the pendant around Tzipporah’s neck. There was no need to fear any longer.
FIN
End Notes:
"Mayn yingl" means "my boy" in Yiddish. The reason Tzipporah says she thought she could never have James and will have no more children is because JKR has said that the Potters had James rather late in life and considered him an "extra treasure" (according to HP Lexicon). Anyway, that is the finale of my story, and I hope everybody enjoyed it!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.