And my thoughts fly apart
Can this man be believed?
Shall his sins be forgiven,
Shall his crimes be reprieved?
And must I now begin to doubt
Who never doubted all these years?
My heart is stone, but still it trembles”
The world that I know
Is lost in shadow.
-- “Javert’s Suicide” from Les Miserables
I felt as though I’d barely slept at all, but I somehow managed to snooze away until noon, when I awoke to the cheerful strains of a song about a policeman with really big sideburns jumping off a bridge. Musicals are really weird sometimes.
But it wasn’t the lovely little ditty about a guy doing himself in that woke me up. It was the rather large owl that few in through the window, dropped a fat envelope on my face, and then hovered there, hooting expectantly. I groaned and sat up blearily, my hair looking like it had lost an epic battle with some rabid, clawed creature.
“All right, all right, what is it?” I croaked, rummaging around my bedside table for a tip I could give the owl. “Can’t let anyone sleep in peace, can you?”
Once the owl had flown away and I’d securely closed my bedroom window, I flung the envelope onto my bedside table and crawled back under my nice, warm covers. But it didn’t work”I just couldn’t get back to sleep again. My curiosity about the letter outweighed my overall feeling of bleeearggghhness. Eventually, I forced myself to inch back to a sitting position and grab the envelope.
As soon as I ripped open the envelope, I was hit with the overpowering smell of too-strong cologne. I’d know that smell anywhere”it smelled like Dirty Rat. More specifically, Tyrone Thomas.
Holy cannoli, did he think that I’d change my mind overnight? I thought I’d made my point exceptionally clear. I unrolled the contents of the envelope, and was slightly surprised to find a much longer scroll of parchment than I’d expected. Somehow, it was hard to imagine Tyrone just sitting there writing. It was hard to imagine Tyrone doing anything stationary, for that matter.
Rolling my sleepy eyes, I began to read. And with each sentence, I found myself waking up a little bit more.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to repeat anything I said to you yesterday. I won’t try to convince you to do anything”I’ve known you long enough to know that that never works. Sorry about writing”you’re probably sick to death of me. But there are a couple things I think you really need to know. Just try to keep an open mind when you read what I’m about to say. I swear it’s all completely true, and you know I mean it when I say that.
I’m not brilliant with words, but here’s basically what I mean. You gave two big examples of why I’m a horrible, selfish person last night. Well, I might be a horrible, selfish person, whatever. I’m not going to argue about that. I just didn’t like the reasons you picked to prove your point.
The first thing you blamed me for is making Ted and Ivy totally miserable. Yeah, I volunteered Ted to go live in the werewolf colony. I’m not going to deny that, and I’m not ashamed of it. The point is, you don’t know the whole story. I heard a bunch of rumours”can’t tell you where”that the werewolf hunters were planning on attacking Ted’s house. He’s probably more out in the open about being a werewolf than anyone else in England, so he was a target from the start. I didn’t want to tell Ted and Ivy, but they probably guessed without my help anyway.
If Ted went somewhere far away, there was a better chance that the werewolf hunters wouldn’t get him. All the same, it’s probably good that Ivy’s in Godric’s Hollow with you instead of at home, in case the hunters still come after a werewolf’s baby. The werewolf hunters didn’t know where Ted’s colony was when he first went off there. I don’t know how they found it, but a lot of people are saying maybe they followed Ted there, which I definitely wasn’t expecting.
I still think Ted is safer at the colony than at home, though. One more thing. You made it sound like I don’t want them to cancel Quidditch just because I want the attention. You probably heard that from Wolfgang. But here’s the real reasons why.
1. If we make a big deal about this, the werewolves and the werewolf hunters will just get bolder, knowing that we’re giving into them.
2. We have like twelve kinds of security measures in place, so the stadiums are about as safe as you can get, and they hold a lot of people. If there was an attack on the area, the people in the stadium would be safe.
3. It’s good to get people’s minds off this crazy werewolf business. Quidditch is good for that.
4. I love Quidditch! I don’t want to stop playing it! Okay, I know, it’s a lousy reason, but at least it’s not my only one.
Believe me, the last thing I want is for anyone to die. And I wouldn’t have encouraged Ted to do this whole thing if I thought his kid would have to grow up without a dad. Not to rub it in, but I’m a little orphan boy. I know what it’s like to not have parents.
The second thing’s a way bigger issue, though. Because with the Ted and Ivy thing, you just didn’t know why I did it, but with the Wolfgang thing, you were just plain wrong. That’s not your fault, though”you got all your information from Wolfgang, and he’s not exactly the most reliable source.
What you have to realize is that Wolfgang’s never been quite right in the head. He’s got some mental problems, and no one’s really sure what”last I heard, they were saying he might have Narcissistic Personality Disorder or something.
He’s got issues with reality in a weird way; I don’t really know what he’s got going on inside that head of his, but I don’t think he can understand that other people exist in any context that doesn’t involve him, Wolfgang. I think he feels like he’s the star of some film (sorry”told you I’m obsessed with film) and everyone else is just a bit player who only acts in a few scenes with him. When they’re not onscreen, they don’t exist. I’m not just saying he’s arrogant, and I’m not exaggerating. He just seriously doesn’t understand that other people have their own lives.
The biggest thing with him is, he’s got no concept of the truth. Wolfgang basically thinks that if he says something, it magically becomes true. If he asked for a ham sandwich and I told him that he’d finished all the ham yesterday, he’d say he never ate any of the ham and I ate it all myself and he’d watched me finish it. He wouldn’t even be lying, exactly”he’d say the first thing that popped into his head, and then be totally convinced that it was the perfect truth. He’d get seriously mad at me and start ‘quoting’ things I never said and trying to get me to admit I did things that I never did, just to prove his point. And if I tried telling him the real truth, he’d honestly believe I was lying and start yelling at me. And that’s just over a ham sandwich.
He never, ever admits to being wrong about anything, and he never admits that anything’s his fault”his problems, other people’s problems, whatever. He always finds someone to blame it on”and he’s so convinced by his own flimsy cover story that he starts hating the person for doing some terrible thing to him that never actually happened.
The weirdest thing I remember was this one time, he got in trouble for beating up a kid named Keith who lives down the street from where he used to. I mean seriously beating him up, because Keith’s nose and jaw and collarbone were pretty badly broken, and he was all scraped up and bruised.
It turned out that what happened was, when Wolfgang was about five, he picked all the flowers in Keith’s mum’s garden. B.C. and his parents and Keith and his parents all saw him do it, too. Of course, he got punished, and he kept crying and saying it was Keith that did it and telling a long, complicated story about how it all happened. He threw a huge tantrum because no one would believe him”even though they all saw him do it.
Well, one thing about Wolfgang is, he’s got no sense of time. He doesn’t seem to notice when time passes at all. So, when he was seventeen, he saw some lady gardening and he randomly remembered the whole Keith incident, and he just stomped over to Keith’s house and started screaming at him and trying to make him confess for picking all the flowers in the garden. Of course, Keith had no idea what he was talking about, so Wolfgang beat him up. He honestly thought he had a good reason for doing it, too.
I know he’s got a problem, but that doesn’t stop me being bloody freaking mad at him whenever he does something crazy like that. And it happens all the time.
I guess I better explain from the beginning. He was always a lot of trouble, always getting into something, and apparently, his mum sent him to Durmstrang because they’re so tough there and she thought it might help him learn discipline. I get the impression that his dad, Junius, really spoiled him when he was still alive (I mean when Junius was still alive…yeah). From what I hear, even though B.C. never came right out and said it, Junius was never really that fond of B.C., because B.C. was always into music and he hated sport, and Junius was always trying to get him to ‘be a man’ or something.
Wolfgang was really upset when his dad died, and he always blamed it on his mum, even though his dad’s death was a complete accident. And Elsa, his mum, was super nice. I liked her a lot, and she was always really strict with Wolfgang, but with good reason, I think.
He didn’t have the greatest reputation over at Durmstrang. He’s smart, a lot smarter than I am, I think, but he never did any work, and he was always making trouble whenever he could. It’s not like he meant to cause problems, he just felt like, ‘Well, I’m going to do what I want instead of what I’m supposed to do, because they don’t matter, and I’m special and above the rules.’
He always had a lot of friends, but he never has them for long”I’ll be the first one to admit it, he can be really nice and funny and easy to get along with, especially when he meets new people. But as soon as he’s sure you really like him and he doesn’t have to make a good impression, he’s not always so nice. And he can be really manipulative and selfish. One minute he’ll be screaming at you, next minute he’s apologizing and being super nice, next minute he’s ordering you around and trying to get you to ‘make it up to him’ after somehow managing to convince you (and himself) into thinking you’re the one who messed up.
It’s always been even worse with his girlfriends. He’s had a million, and they never learn”Wolfgang always finds a way to convince everyone that he’s so misunderstood and a victim and his former girlfriends were all evil psychos. That’s why I always tried to keep you away from him, because I know the type of stuff he always ends up doing after he gets to know people. I should’ve known that would just make you want to hang out with him more than ever.
Anyways, when Elsa Quinn married my dad, my dad tried to understand Wolfgang, and he was a lot more patient with him than anyone else was”I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that my dad’s an artist and Wolfgang is really, really good at painting and drawing. Wolfgang was always a complete jerk to Elsa, but he saw my dad like some kind of major authority figure and listened to him for some reason. Which isn’t to say he wasn’t always an inch away from getting expelled from Durmstrang every other second.
About halfway through his seventh year (we’d already graduated by them), my dad and Elsa got an owl saying that Wolfgang had gotten this girl named Svetlana pregnant. He told us that he was really sorry, that he felt like it couldn’t happen to him and that he was invincible, and that he’d been too arrogant to realize that he should have been more responsible”it was pretty much the only time we ever heard him own up for his actions. Wolfgang said he was in love with Svetlana, and they were dropping out of school and coming back to England to get married and raise their baby. He asked for some money to help out, and he got a lot of money from Svetlana’s family, too.
Well, he came home, and he and his girlfriend seemed happy and like they were really serious”but then, we learned that the girl wasn’t even Svetlana, she was a totally different girl named Nastasya who wasn’t pregnant at all, and Wolfgang had really come to England to run away from his responsibilities. Svetlana’s parents were crazy mad, especially since Wolfgang had already spent all the cash they sent, but somehow, he got off scot free. Around that time, he dumped Nastasya and got together with some girl named Crystal”and Nastasya didn’t know anyone in England and didn’t know any English, only Russian and German, so Dad and Elsa had to take her in for awhile.
Meanwhile, Crystal ended up getting thrown in Azkaban for running some kind of scam to get Muggles’ money. She kept insisting she was innocent and that Wolfgang did it, and honestly, I think she was telling the truth. Wolfgang’s testimony kept changing, and around that time, he’d managed to make a lot of money.
After my dad and Elsa died, the Ministry gave the responsibility of taking care of Tabitha to me and B.C. The official reason why Wolfgang was left out of this was that he was younger and didn’t have a steady job or a steady living arrangement, but honestly, I think most people were starting to catch on by now that Wolfgang was bad news.
Tabby always pretty much idolized Wolfgang”like my dad, she was one of the really, really small group of people who he always liked. She was about eleven when Elsa and my dad started dating, and she never saw much of Wolfgang”she was still in school during the whole Svetlana-Nastasya-Crystal fiasco, and we never told her about any of that type of thing because we always thought she was too young. Honestly, Tabby always kind of fancied Wolfgang, so B.C. and I were always pretty careful to never leave them in a room alone together, especially as Tabby got older.
Think this all sounds like a soap opera yet? It gets worse.
Wolfgang was having an especially tough time around when Dad and Elsa died. Somehow, he always ends up wasting all of his money the day he gets it, no matter how much money he gets at a time. I think Dad knew this, so in his will, he left Wolfgang the summer house and a small-ish amount of money every month. But Wolfgang wasn’t too happy with that, because he wanted more cash to blow. I was in charge of handling the money in the family, so he told me to give him all of the money that dad left for him at once. Then he said to put the summer house up for sale (he said he could get a better house on his own) and give him all the money from it. I knew this was a really bad idea, but I did it anyway just to get him to go away.
About a month later, he came over whining that he’d run out of money and he needed some help. He told me he hadn’t sold a single painting and that someone had stolen all of his money and he’d been kicked out of his flat or something like that. I told him he was going to earn his own money and he wasn’t going to get anything more from me”by now, I was just sick of him. He told me he wasn’t ever going to talk to me again (like that was a bad thing!) and started yelling at me and stomped out of there.
That was when he started playing Quidditch. It’s annoying how easy everything is for Wolfgang. He’s good at everything. I mean, I had to practice really hard to get this good at Quidditch, and I have to practice even harder to stay good. Wolfgang never turns up for practice and he never comes to anything on time and never puts any work in, but he’s still really good. I don’t know how come he hasn’t been sacked yet. Maybe because he’s so good.
Well, anyhow. I thought after Wolfgang’s big dramatic scene, I was really never going to see him again and that he was out of my hair. I should’ve known better, seeing as it was Wolfgang.
Last year, when Tabitha was in sixth year, she and Wolfgang somehow got to be penfriends. I didn’t know about it, but they were writing to each other a lot. Then, when Tabby was on one of her Hogsmeade weekends, she ran into Wolfgang in The Three Broomsticks. According to Tabby, he said he wanted her to come to his room (don’t know why he was staying there, but whatever) so he could show her this present he’d gotten for her seventeenth birthday”she’d just had that about two days before.
Well, she came to his room, and you can guess what happened. I’m trusting Tabby’s side of the story, and she says that she got away before anything, you know, nasty happened, but Wolfgang’s story is that she tried to seduce him. As if anyone would believe that. But the sad thing is, a lot of people DID.
That was when I snapped. I haven’t really been able to forgive him after that, and I think you’ll agree that I had a pretty good reason. Since then, I haven’t given any kind of help at all to Wolfgang, and Tabitha hasn’t seen him since. She was really freaked out by the whole thing”and ever since then, Wolfgang’s only said bad things about her, which doesn’t exactly help.
I should probably tell you a bit about B.C. as well, because I hear Wolfgang’s been telling some weird lies about him. B.C.’s a really good guy, maybe a little bit TOO nice, because he still gives Wolfgang money and assistance when he gets himself into some kind of idiotic problem. B.C.’s always wanted to be a composer, and he has sold some songs, but he mostly makes his money playing piano. He plays in two different churches, and he’s always doing weddings and stuff like that, and he teaches private piano lessons. Wolfgang’s been spreading around rumours that B.C.’s bad with money, but that’s all lies. B.C.’s never had to borrow money from anyone, and if he’s a bit too generous sometimes, it’s never interfered with anything. He tries to avoid Wolfgang whenever he can, though, because it’s not like he really likes shelling out his money to his ungrateful little brother.
Sorry if you’re offended by anything I said here”I’m trying to be as honest as I can, but I can’t help feeling mad just writing this. Wolfgang’s a nasty piece of work, and if you don’t believe me, you can ask B.C., though he’ll probably tell it to you in a much gentler, more apologetic sort of way.
Again, I’m not going to try to repeat all my old mistakes or anything, but I just wanted to clear the air so you’re not the next person to have Wolfgang screw up your life. Believe me, you won’t be the first.
-- Tyrone
For some reason, my first thought was, “Wow, Tyrone’s wrist must REALLY hurt after writing all of that.”
My second thought was something a lot more like, “…?????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!”
I flopped back down on my bed and closed my eyes, figuring the best possible thing to do would be to go back to sleep. But that was about as easy as sleeping with Haley singing in my ear.
It had to be true. No matter how much I tried to believe that it wasn’t, I had to admit, Tyrone didn’t often lie”he was clear on that point”and besides, he didn’t have the creativity to make up something like that.
But Wolfgang? Friendly, charming, witty Wolfgang? Somehow, I couldn’t reconcile his cheery disposition and playful banter with the type of person who’d get in screaming fits, beat up neighborhood kids, steal money, or get girls pregnant and run away to another country. It just didn’t fit.
I thought hard for a minute, trying to remember exactly what it was about Wolfgang that made me like him so much. Well… he was cute, and he was pretty good for conversation… but the biggest thing, the thing that I couldn’t quite push out of my mind, was that he didn’t like Tyrone. The more horrible things he’d said about Tyrone, the more I gravitated toward him. Of course. It had all been for my own vanity”“see, Tyrone, you may have dumped me, but here’s someone who thinks I’m plenty attractive… oh yeah, and you hate his guts! How do you like them apples?”
And I couldn’t help but remember all sorts of little things about Wolfgang”the way he had been noticeably late for both of our ‘dates,’ the way he couldn’t remember his own brother’s name, the way he called Tabitha ‘spoiled,’ constantly claimed B.C. was bad with money, looked uncomfortable when I talked about Ted abandoning his pregnant wife, congratulated me for turning down Patrick Wormwood so bluntly, how flirtatious he’d seemed around Haley, and above all, how he constantly badmouthed Tyrone.
All things considered, I should’ve been able to see right through him at once. So much of what he said seemed to directly contradict everything else I’d heard, and yet I always seemed to accept his word as gospel truth. And why did I trust him? Because he didn’t like Tyrone, and it was nice to have someone to spew hate with.
Talk about your pride and prejudice. I’d been guilty of both, and I didn’t even have cute regency-era costumes to make it better.
I had been a total moron. I’d let my disregard for Tyrone override anything else. Was this secretly why we weren’t allowed to talk to Quidditch players? It made a lot more sense to sack the weasel. Maybe it was about time he had to deal with some of the consequences of things that were his fault.
My body felt unpleasantly chilly, and I snuggled deeper beneath the covers. All I could think of was Wolfgang and Tyrone, Tyrone and Wolfgang, everything I knew about Tyrone and everything he’d just said about Wolfgang.
Tyrone had said that Wolfgang had a problem with reality, that he didn’t even realize that he was lying. As far as he was concerned, he thought he was the nicest guy in town, and he had no clue why bad things just happened to him. Maybe it was about time he learned.
SOME UNDETERMINED AMOUNT OF BROODING LATER
“Emma? What’s wrong?” asked Ivy for the kajillionth time.
“I told you,” I snarled. “Nothing’s the matter except for you being in my room interrupting my beauty sleep. I’m fine.”
Ivy looked up at me with a quizzical eye. “Then why are you still in bed at 3 PM?” she inquired gently.
Nnnnnnnngrrrrhhhhgh. I hauled myself up to a sitting position and threw my hair out of my eyes. “Ivy, how would you feel if someone that you thought you liked a lot turned out to be a complete and utter scumbag?”
Ivy sighed. “Don’t tell me this is about Ted again,” she said.
‘No!’ I felt like shouting. ‘Can we stop talking about Mr. Dances-With-Wolves for one second?’ But instead, I simply said, “No, Ted’s not a scumbag, he’s just a fleabitten mutt. Get your terminology straight.”
Ivy’s brow creased. “Then who is it?”
“It’s just hypothetical,” I muttered. “Call him... Ludwig.”
Ivy’s brow creased even more. “Okay,” she said slowly.
I tried to think of some words I could use to explain what I’d read without giving too much away. “Say you know this guy... call him... Santiago, or something... and he’s kind of a jerk. I mean, you don’t really know him that well, maybe you used to or something, but you haven’t seen him in awhile... and then you meet this new guy, Ludwig, and he knows T”er, Santiago really well, and he tells you some things about Santiago that pretty much confirm what you thought. And then it turns out later that Ludwig’s the jerk and maybe Santiago isn’t, not that much, and... you don’t really know what to think anymore?”
If Ivy’s brow creased even more, I swear her face would have split down the middle. Was it even remotely possible that she didn’t know I was talking about Wolfgang and Tyrone? She certainly didn’t betray any signs of recognition.
I don’t know why I couldn’t just come right out and tell her about Tyrone’s letter. But it was...embarrassing. Ivy had only heard glowing reports of Wolfgang, and lousy ones of Tyrone, from me, at least. If I really was that grievously wrong, I’d rather be it in private.
I studied Ivy’s face for a second. “I guess I’m not good with first impressions,” I mumbled. “I definitely had some weird ones about you in first year.” I tried to think back to those ancient, blurry days, back when boys had cooties, hair wraps were cool, Jordan wore glasses and didn’t talk to anyone, and Ted was short and healthy-looking and not even remotely werewolfy. It was nearly impossible to remember, but the one image I had no trouble recalling at all was Ivy. Skinny, pinched-looking face the colour of parchment, wisps of hair escaping from her dorkily tight braid, shirt tucked in, hands folded in her lap, nails gnawed to the quick, too quiet and too grave.
Me being me, I’d been suspicious of her the second I’d laid eyes on her. The girl was a murderous psychopath’s daughter, for crying out loud, and I’d never been fond of swots, one of which Ivy certainly had to be. I seem to remember that I yelled a lot at Haley and didn’t talk to her for a few weeks, when she decided to take Ivy under her wing. And then Ted started hanging out with her as well, and I was about ready to stab a certain little Malfoy girl in the face.
Ivy looked at me inquisitively, something she was very good at. “What do you think of me now?” she said.
Way to change the subject. Which I guess was a good thing, but still, it was completely random. I squinted at Ivy for a moment, then at last, I said, “I don’t know.”
Ivy did nothing but provide me with a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, I think I’d say the same thing about you. I just… we don’t have anything in common. The only reason why we’re even friends is Haley. When she’s not here, it’s… weird.”
My mouth hung open. That was exactly the one thing that’d been flitting around my brain like some big ugly bat, ever since Ivy and I had decided to come to Godric’s Hollow.
“I know,” I said. “It’s… you’re married, you’ve got a steady job, you’re going to be a mum… and then you’ve got me, single, no job, suspended from Auror training, cringes at the word ‘baby.’ It’s like, what is there to talk about? You’re from a whole different planet.” Back in school, it was one thing, when we were at least in all the same classes and all had the same problems”abusing the horrible Professor Zabini was always a good conversation starter.
Ivy laughed nervously. “This really is awkward,” she said. “I wish Haley was here. No offense.”
“No, I know what you mean,” I said.
“Well, what do you think she’s doing now?” mused Ivy.
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Probably flirting her heart out with… oh Godric…”
“What?” said Ivy.
Oh, great. Oh, wonderful. It was pretty clear that Haley had a bit of a thing for Wolfgang. My biggest problem with that was always that I happened to have a bit of a thing for Wolfgang, too, and I didn’t want Haley to lure Wolfgang over to her side. But now… now it was very, very apparent that Wolfgang was not my type. And unless Haley had a fondness for narcissistic, sociopathic, compulsive-lying, chain-seducing, money-grubbing, tantrum-throwing, girlfriend-impregnating, responsibility-abandoning gits, then I was pretty sure he wasn’t Haley’s type either. If Wolfgang tried anything, he’d have me to deal with. After all, one pregnant, abandoned friend was enough for the time being.
“Emma?” Ivy said gently.
I groaned. “Look, I really don’t feel good. I think it’d probably be best if you just left me alone for right now.”
Ivy nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I… I hope you feel better.” And with that, she was gone.
‘Wait!’ I felt like yelling. “Ask questions! Pry into my business! Demand to know more about this Ludwig and Santiago thing! What are you leaving for?”
Sometimes, when I tell people I want to be alone, I really just mean I want them to stay and bug about just why I want to be alone. I didn’t expect Ivy to actually listen to me. I think I’m too used to Haley.
I was suddenly sick of being in bed. I threw the covers off and grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. As the hot water rushed over me, one of Haley’s annoying little showtunes kept running through my head.
”I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair
I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair
I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair
And send him on his way!”
The song lyrics may not have been particularly insightful, but they were appropriate. I felt like basically everything I’d thought about Wolfgang was running down the drain.
Thinking about it, I realized I couldn’t have liked Wolfgang all that much”after all, I’d immediately accepted everything Tyrone told me about him and the main emotions I felt were disgust that Wolfgang was such a jerk and disgust that I’d let him fool me. I wasn’t ‘heartbroken,’ whatever that was, I didn’t feel ‘betrayed,’ and my thoughts of Wolfgang certainly weren’t conflicted. I was simply put, done with him, and in the nick of time, given all the sordid tricks he’d pulled with all the other girls he’d run across.
I threw on my clothes and made my way downstairs… only to discover Ivy sitting in the kitchen. The second I came into view, she jumped to her feet, wearing that sparkly-eyed, flushed expression that she’s so good at.
“Wait, weren’t you just here?” I said.
Ivy laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “But you’ve got to come over”wait ‘till you see what just showed up on our front porch!”
“Ted’s remains in a shoebox?” I guessed.
Even this didn’t dampen her mood. And if Ivy was happy enough not to do that weird brow pucker thing, then whatever showed up on the front step was probably pretty fantastic. It couldn’t be Ted in the flesh”if it was, she wouldn’t be able to stand being away from her beloved for a split-second long enough to converse with a mere mortal like myself.
The sunlight outside was blinding when I followed Ivy out of the door. Despite the fact that I hadn’t drunk anything stronger than tea the night before, I definitely felt as though I had a hangover. However, disoriented or no, I was sure of one thing.
“There’s, er, nothing on the front step, Ivy,” I said flatly. “Unless you mean that dead leaf. In which case, I’m going back to bed.”
“Well, we took it inside,” Ivy replied as though it were obvious.
I sighed. “Look, what is it?” I asked wearily.
Ivy smiled. “I don’t know,” she said. “We’re waiting for you to find out what it is. Whatever it is, it’s big.”
“Wait,” I said. “Let me get this straight. You brought me here to see a big box. A big box that you haven’t opened yet. Which could have pretty much anything inside it.” I arched an eyebrow, an action I never would have gotten away with were Haley there. “If you open that up and a dead wolf falls out...”
Why would Ivy automatically assume that whatever was in the box was something good? It could be someone’s old garbage, or a time bomb, or a man-eating tiger shipped here by mistake instead of to the zoo. I was positive that this wouldn’t end well. Whatever it was, I’d probably have to spend the next several hours comforting Ivy. And comforting people has never been one of my particular talents.
When I stepped inside the door, I saw that Ivy had not been exaggerating when she said that the box was big. It was frankly amazing that she’d managed to drag it through the door at all; it was probably about the same size as the flat Haley and I shared back home. Ivy’s parents were both at work, but Holly and Jonathan were sitting on the floor, examining the box as if they knew what they were doing. Holly’s ear was pressed against the side of it.
“I think it’s breathing,” she said. “Maybe it’s a horse.”
“The ancient Greeks sent the Trojans a horse,” Jonathan added vaguely. “Then they jumped out and killed everyone.”
The Trojan horse had been made of wood and so didn’t exactly breathe, but minor details like this had never mattered to Jonathan. For him, this was impressively on-topic.
“I don’t like this, Ivy,” I said. “What if it is a trick? Like that Trojan horse thing Jonathan said? It’d be just like werewolf hunters to jump out like some evil jack-in-the-box and do you in.”
Ivy had always been a worrier. Why didn’t she look worried? This was serious. “We have all sorts of security charms on the house,” she reminded me. “That’s not a problem.” She looked over at the twins. “Well, do you want to open it now?”
“Heinrich Schieman unearthed Troy in the 1870’s,” Jonathan said.
“I think that means ‘yes,’” I said, somewhat flatly.
Holly jumped up and ran into the kitchen. “I’ll get one of mum’s kitchen knives!” she yelled.
“No,” Ivy said sharply, trying not to panic. “No, you won’t.”
“Here, give it to me,” I said, grabbing the knife out of my little cousin’s hand. “Ivy can open the box with magic, and if a werewolf hunter pops out, I can shank him with this.”
Honestly, I was slightly disappointed when no one jumped out when Ivy opened up the box. In all honesty, a little knife fight would probably brighten up my day. Instead, there was another box. A much smaller box, though still a lot bigger than anything I’d ever gotten for Christmas. It was wrapped in sparkly pale blue wrapping paper tied with a big red bow. On top was a small, jagged scrap of parchment, reading simply, “Ivy”thought you could use these. Stay positive! Love, Somebody.”
Like some kind of ransom note, each word was pasted on, cut out of some magazine. It wasn’t a very reassuring sign. But Ivy ripped open the paper anyway, wide-eyed like a little kid.
I expected a bomb, or a jinx, or something terrible. What was inside was… even worse.
“Oh!” Ivy said softly. Her voice caught in her throat and made a funny noise, and then… oh good God, of course she started crying. This whole pregnancy thing was doing ridiculous things to her. I hadn’t seen so many female hormones on display since Tyrone streaked through the crowded Common Room on a dare.
Inside the box was a vast assortment of baby clothes. And on top was another note, this one reading, ”I didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl, so I got both. You can use the ones this baby doesn’t need for any future kids!
For some reason, pregnant women have this weird thing where they instantly start finding tiny clothing adorable. Show Ivy a picture of a dead werewolf and an itsy-bitsy shoe and see which one will make her cry more. It’d be a tough contest.
Holly and Jonathan were busy wrestling as Holly attempted to tie the big red bow onto her twin’s head, so SOMEONE had to sort through the baby clothes with Ivy. Remembering our earlier chat about how we had nothing in common common, I really had no choice but to act like I cared about the clothes.
“This is crazy,” I said, grinning as Ivy held up a little purple t-shirt that said, ‘Being Cute Is Just Part Of The Job Description.’ “This baby’s going to have more clothes than I do. Haley’s going to be so jealous of that shirt. She’s going to want one in her size.”
“Then this one’s for you,” laughed Ivy, holding up another shirt that read, ‘I’d Love To Have A Battle Of Wits, But You Appear Unarmed.’ “If you ever have any kids, then this’ll be perfect. I’m not sure it really fits the… philosophy… I want to follow with raising my kids.”
I didn’t join in her Haley-esque giggles. “Oh, give it up, Ivy,” I said, shaking my head. “If you seriously think I’m ever going to have a baby…”
“You never know,” said Ivy. “Things change. I used to think I didn’t ever want to have kids, either. The only example of a mum I knew was Pansy Malfoy, and, well, she wasn’t someone I really looked up to.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ives, you have to admit that I’d be a horrible mum. Just think about it. I’d be the worst influence ever. ‘Sure, you can eat cookies for dinner, hon. Now shut up so I can concentrate on yelling at your brother.’”
“Believe me, you’d have nothing on Pansy.” It was really weird hearing Ivy calling her biological mother by her first name”she sounded strangely cold. Her grey eyes got steely in a way that would make McGonagall proud, and her angular face got rigid. She actually looked eerily like Draco Malfoy. I don’t usually get a chilly vibe from Ivy (except when she’s in her arctic fox mode, yuk yuk yuk), but her face gets this hardened, emotionless look to it whenever she talks about Pansy Malfoy. It’s kind of unsettling, like when Haley says something intelligent.
I changed the subject hastily. “Well, it’s not really about whether I’d be a good mum or not,” I said. “It’s just, I don’t want to have to go through all that… stuff, you know?” I poked her in the belly, and she gasped. “And do you seriously think I need to get anymore irritable and hormonal?”
As I picked up and folded the next teeny-tiny little baby outfit, my hand brushed against something hard and smooth and flat. Squinting, I shifted some of the myriad outfits left in the box to the side, and it suddebly looked like there was a lot more to the present than clothes… and that only about an eighth of the box’s contents were clothes at all. Godric, I felt like Heinrich Schliemann unearthing Troy in the 1870’s.
“Hey, Ives… check this out,” I said, unceremoniously scooping up baby clothes and tossing them in a little pile on the floor.
Ivy peered over the edge of the box. “What is it?” she asked, feeling the flat mahogany surface.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But there’s no way we can pick this up out of the box. Er, Holly? Jonathan? Want to rip a big box to shreds?”
“YEAH!” came a collective shriek as the blur that was the twins quit wrestling long enough to streak over toward to the box. I swear, Holly and Jonathan are living weapons. I may have to start hiring them out as assassins or something”they certainly murdered the packing carton. I‘ve never seen anything so thoroughly demolished in such a short period of time.
And the final present that had been waiting inside the box was a million times cooler than any baby clothes or any Trojan horse.
“It’s a piano!” exclaimed Ivy, doing an admirable job of stating the obvious. It certainly was a piano”a brand new grand piano that must have cost ten times what the Potter’s previous one had been worth.
“Ten seconds before Niagara Falls reopens for the season,” I muttered under my breath. If Ivy didn’t start crying again, it would be a sign of the apocalypse.
“I love him so much,” whispered Ivy. “I don’t know how he could have possibly sent this over.”
I was vaguely astonished. “Wait, what?” I looked at the dreamy way Ivy was brushing the keys with her fingers. “Do you seriously think Ted sent these?”
Ivy raised her almost-transparent eyebrows. “Who else would?” she asked softly. “Who would spend that much money just for me?”
“I have a hunch,” I mumbled, though I doubt Ivy heard me. I reached over and gave the keyboard an experimental ‘plink plunk,’ then slammed my hands down and marveled at the way the horrible low banging noise echoed around the room. It was just like Tyrone’s singing.
“That’s how I broke the old piano,” said Holly offhandedly, having gone back to beating up her brother again.
I quickly withdrew my hands and said, “Ivy, let’s be honest. You and Ted do not have that much money. And it’s over in the werewolf camp. How would he even manage to buy that thing, let alone have it sent over here? Just because he loves you doesn’t mean he can defy the laws of physics.” I paused for a moment, giving special consideration to the fact that Ted likes to turn into a big shaggy wolf about twelve times a year. “At least, not that way.”
“Are you okay?” asked Ivy. “You look… flushed. But… pale, too.”
“I think I just need some fresh air,” I said, noticing that my voice sounded like it was coming from far away. My mind felt like it was coming from far away, too, like it was controlling my body from a distance. I made my way outside and sat on the steps, inhaling deeply.
Let’s see, who had a surplus of money, knew Ivy was staying with her parents, knew she needed a new piano, and, most importantly, was stark raving loony enough to do something like this. I knew someone who fit that description.
My head slumped down to my chest. I wanted to believe that Ted had sent Ivy the presents, but it was like trying to believe that a stork was the culprit responsible for Ivy’s pregnancy. (Though I guess that would be pretty cool, a half-stork baby. I guess a stork daddy wouldn’t be all THAT different from a wolf daddy.)
I was looking down blankly at the cement step below me, not really looking at anything in particular, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. My first thought was that a dog had decided Ivy’s porch made an excellent bathroom. Then, I realized that not even the cleverest dogs usually managed to seal the fruits of his labour in little plastic bags before leaving them on the porch.
Someone had, whether intentionally or not, dropped a little plastic bag with two prunes inside it. Now there was no question about who had delivered Ivy’s present.
Only one person in the entire world was crazy enough to eat prunes by choice.
So, by this point, we all know Mr. Darcy’s kind of an annoying git, right? It’s pretty clear, too, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is NOT a fan. So, where we left off, Lizzie was staying with the disgusting little Bilbo Collins and his wife, the formerly-cool Charlotte Lucas, who happen to live next door to the biggest royal twit ever, Lady Catherine de Bourghe. And it looks like royal twitness runs in the family, because it turns out that Mr. Darcy is her nephew.
Anyway, so Elizabeth’s sitting there, minding her own business, when suddenly the door flies off the hinges and Mr. Darcy materializes in a dark poof of smoke. Before she can say anything, for example, “Wow, can’t you read the ‘thank you for not smoking’ sign?’ Darcy just strides onto the room and bellows, “HEY, I’M THINKING WE SHOULD GET MARRIED? GOOD? GOOD. OKAY, BYE.”
Elizabeth just sits there, opening and closing her mouth like a strangled fish, but she has no idea what she can possibly say in response to this nonsense. After a couple minutes of this, Darcy realizes in the tiny non-damaged portion of the bit of his brain that’s supposed to sense social cues that this isn’t really the normal response to a marriage proposal, so he makes things worse by going, “Now, I know you’re surprised, because you’re my social inferior, and your family is completely obnoxious, and you’re not really all that pretty”I mean, sometimes when you smile, you do that weird thing where your cheeks get all big and your lip curls up and your eyes squish closed and it makes you look like a stoned chipmunk”but I love you anyway, against my better judgment, and I’ve tried to get over this, since honestly, loving you is the stupidest thing since rubbing lemons in my eyes, so let’s just get married.”
Elizabeth stares at him for a good ten to twenty minutes, while the cogs in her brain try desperately to work out any way that could possibly make what Darcy just said make sense. But finally, she gets her wits together and says, “You know, if I wanted you to think well of me, I’d turn you down graciously and all that, but since I don’t give a bull’s horn what you think, I’ll just come right out and say, after all of the lousy things you’ve done, I’m going to have to go with ‘no.’ Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but if you think there’s so much wrong with me, it shouldn’t take you long to recover.”
“Whoa, okay, if you want to blow big chunks of attitude in my face, that’s fine by me, but can you at least tell me WHY you’re so freaked out?”
Elizabeth snorts like a hippo with play-do in its nostrils. “Well gee, it could be because you just insulted me like crazy while you were proposing. But I have even better reasons. No matter how nicely you asked me, do you think I could just up and marry someone who ruined my favorite sister’s life? Or who treated poor Mr. Wickham like dirt for so long?”
“Oh-ho, so it’s Wickham you’re into now, is it?” sneers Darcy, oozing villainy. “Well, then God help you.”
“Oh shut up, will you? It’s your fault he’s poor and unsuccessful and dependent on other people, and all you can do is laugh at him? You’re a real sweetheart, Mr. Darcy. You’re about as tender and considerate as Lord Voldemort.”
Mr. Darcy does one of those sharp inhalations of air that make your nostrils go all white and pinchy, only making him look even more like Voldemort. “So that’s what you think of me! Thanks for telling me… though I seriously doubt you wouldn’t make such a big deal about all of this if I had sugar-coated everything. But I don’t like playing into all of the gooey little fluffy fantasy that a lot of girls are into. I prefer to tell the truth.”
“Um, earth to Mr. Darcy!” yells Elizabeth, waving her arms in front of his face. “Are you even listening? Even if you proposed in a hot air balloon with a flock of doves and a chocolate waterfall, it wouldn’t make a difference. I rather jump off the Hogwarts Astronomy tower than marry you. You’re a smug git, you’re so far up yourself your feet are dangling out of your mouth, you couldn’t care less about anyone else, you’re a total snob, and even though everyone hates you, you still think you’re the bees’ knees. Believe me, in any possible parallel reality, you’re the last man in the universe I’d ever marry.”
Darcy did the Voldemort nose thing again, only this time, his lips quivered, too. “Right, that’s about enough. I get the picture.”
“Yeah, that’s right, get out of here, you lint licker.”
Darcy shook from head to foot with barely contained rage. “Who are you calling a lint licker, you cootie queen?” And with that, he stomped out of the house like a dinosaur trying to learn the foxtrot.
Oh… my… Godric. That was the most serious déjà vu I have ever experienced. That was almost exactly the discussion between Tyrone and me the other day. Get out of my head, Jane Austen!