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.