Paige and I avoided Ginny to the best of our ability over the next few days. This meant spending less time outside and more in the library with Hermione, who was studying endlessly. From what I could tell, only half of her work was class-related. When I asked her what she was researching and if she needed any help, she turned down my offer very quickly.
“No, I’ve got it under control,” she said quickly. However, a minute later, she broke down and began to rant about her classmates.
“It’s absurd! They have no reason to expect Harry Potter of all people to be the Heir of Slytherin!”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Hermione stared at me. “Haven’t you heard the talk?”
I shrugged.
“She doesn’t pay attention to those things,” Paige inserted. I shot her a look.
“Well,” Hermione said irritably, “after all of the attacks on the students, there have been rumors everywhere about who did it. And of course you remember the blood on the wall… you were there, right?”
“I was,” I muttered.
“There you go. Anyway, people have been crazy all over school; after all of the problems at the Dueling Club, everyone seems to think it was Harry! I just don’t understand it. I mean, so what if he can speak Parseltongue? That doesn’t automatically make him a dark wizard…” She trailed off, sounding doubtful.
“Of course he isn’t a dark wizard,” Paige piped up. “He’s the boy who lived!”
“I know,” Hermione said, her head in her hands. “But this whole issue has gotten blown out of proportion!”
“Colin’s in the hospital wing!” I said angrily. “It doesn’t need to be blown out of proportion; it’s a big deal!”
Hermione glanced at me. “I understand that he was your friend, but still. People could at least try being calm about things for once.”
“Maybe we should all be glad that it wasn’t us who’s lying in the hospital wing,” Paige said neutrally. She yawned. “You two can stay here, but I’m going to bed.”
Dear Susan,
Thank you for your letter! I would love to have you come see me. All you have to do is tell Dumbledore that you’re coming. I’ve missed you, but I understand that you’ve been a busy girl with little time for visiting your mother. In any case, send a response on the owl telling me when and how long you’re coming for. Of course, the Easter holidays are also coming up. I bet you’re looking forward to that.
Love,
Mum
P.S. How is Ginny doing? And Paige?
Dear Mum,
I asked Dumbledore and he said it would be fine if I spent Sunday in Hogsmeade with you. He also mentioned that I would have to finish all of my homework first, but I think he was joking. He probably knows that homework takes me little time and I’ve not too much else to do.
Paige is fine. We had a Herbology test today, but I remembered what you told me that time in the garden all those years ago about seeds; it helped a lot. As for Ginny, I don’t really know how she’s doing, to be honest. I haven’t talked to her that recently.
Love,
Susan
“And these ones here”what do you think?”
I squinted at the small, purple buds. “They’re nice, I but I like the first ones better.”
“The yellow ones, you mean?” Mum asked, waving her hand over her shoulder at the flowers a few rows behind us.
“Yes. They’re more… cheery, I guess,” I mumbled, not finding a good reason as to why I liked the yellow ones. They just felt right to me.
“Then I shall have to plant more of them over here. Do you want to do that now, or do you want to sit around and do nothing for a while? I remember enjoying that when I was a little older than you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t we get to work?”
She smiled at me happily. I knew how much she loved gardening. “A valid question, darling,” she mentioned, standing quickly and making her way through the rows of plants. Some of them preened or reached for her as she passed. Mum always had a green thumb.
I squatted by the purple ones, digging my heels in the soft dirt and examining the purple flowers in front of me. They weren’t yet in full bloom, but I admired them as they were. Maybe I liked them more than the yellow ones after all. Unable to decide, I frowned and glanced over my shoulder. The yellow ones displayed their delicate petals upward, opening to the sun. The purple ones seemed almost wilted next to them.
“Susan? Would you help me find the seeds, please?” Mum called.
I trotted into her little shack. Hooks covered both walls, seeming to hold more space than I would have imagined could fit in a shed of that size. Mum was running her hands over countless small brown pouches, one or two hanging on each hook.
“You’ve bought all of these already?” I wondered, amazed.
“Well, the man at the store seemed keen on helping me out, so he gave me a few extra seeds. Said they were special and that I’d like them, and I couldn’t help taking them,” Mum admitted. “Besides, I can probably sell the plants. Or maybe Professor Sprout will want them. I hear she’s your Herbology teacher.”
“Yes. She wasn’t always there?”
“Goodness, no!” Mum exclaimed. “I had a very airy witch named Professor Duncan for my teacher. I liked her, but she never really spoke to any of us. She was always looking at her plants, or her diagrams of her plants. Why, I remember the times when…”
“When what?” I asked, reaching for a pouch at my eyelevel.
“My sister, Melinda, used to tell me about all the times she was the victim of James Potter and Sirius Black. I’ve mentioned them before, haven’t I?” Mum laughed to herself. “And”ah! Here they are. This pouch, here. It has the little threaded drawing on it here, see? It’ll be a nice plant some day. This one’s called Croceucerin. It has a sort of juice in it that can be used for many potions. In a small dose, it’s great for a calming spell or tea. But if you put in too much you might faint or hallucinate. I’ll make some tea with it when it’s fully grown and you can taste it.”
I nodded, not really listening to her babble on about plants. I was more interested at running my eyes over the various drawings.
Mum pulled me back outside. I picked up her digging tools as she extracted a few seeds and rolled them into her palm. She prodded them as we made our way to a fresh row of dirt.
“What was I saying, Susan?” she asked.
“Er, something about your Herbology teacher and your sister?” I offered.
“That’s right,” Mum sighed. “Poor Professor Duncan used to come into class to find that all of her diagrams were encrypted in some sort of nonsense code. We’d laugh if we couldn’t help it, and she’d try all sorts of spells. Of course, none of them worked. Most of her magic helped her with plants. I rarely saw her use a wand… Those boys! To think Melinda liked them at all…”
“Why did she?” I demanded. They didn’t sound very likable, bothering their teachers like that.
“They were always entertaining to be around,” Mum explained. “Sirius may have been a bit wild and reckless”I remember him that way. I wish he stayed that way. Nearly killed poor Melinda, to lose so many friends like that…” She trailed off, kneeling in the dirt.
We sat in silence, Mum fingering her seeds as I set the tools on the earth to wait until we’d want to use them.
“And Remus. He was always a nice boy, I remember,” Mum said quietly. “I never knew him that well. He’s out there somewhere. I hope. I wonder how he handled losing all of his friends to fate…”
I glanced at her. She was running the pads of her fingers back and forth over the thin, round seeds of the Croceucerin plant. She blinked hard once, shutting her palm. “Well,” she sighed. “No use wasting all our lives wondering. Let’s get to work.”