“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.