Haley laughed. “No way! I’m excited!”
“Oh dear, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” groaned Anatoly. “Because, believe it or not, I was actually planning on surviving into adulthood, thanks very much.”
“Oh, Zabini won’t kill us,” Haley reassured him.
“Ah,” Anatoly said. “So he’ll just disembowel us and tie the ends of our guts to a tree and make us walk around until our intestines unwind.”
Haley threw a sugar quill at him, then looked as though she rather regretted this waste of sweets. “Come on, he might like our project.”
“Sure thing, and I’m a manticore’s uncle,” said Anatoly as Haley skipped off down the hall.
Inter-House Unity projects were due in just a few days, but Haley and Anatoly’s still needed some finishing touches, which was why the female half of the partnership was hoping for a favour from an unsuspecting pawn. She flung open the door to the Room of Requirement.
“Jorjy-Porjy!” she exclaimed, bounding into her brother’s favorite hideout.
She wasn’t surprised to see that her twin was lying flat on his back on a sofa, his eyes shut tightly and his lips moving as he muttered only his breath; Jordan had been so weird the past few months that weird was normal for him, and she was beginning to get used to it.
Jordan sat up. “Never,” he said, “call me Jorjy-Porjy.”
I guess some things never change, thought Haley, plopping down next to him. “So, what are you doing? Trying to find out if there’s life on other planets or something?”
“Well, actually, twenty-nine hundred and eight planets might support intelligent life, but only two near enough to ever make contact possible with us, even with our most advanced technology,” Jordan explained nonchalantly. “And even then, it’s highly unlikely because they think that we’re barbaric. Not that I disagree entirely.”
“That’s… nice,” Haley replied uncomfortably. Her stupid genius brother’s omniscience could be a tad off-putting sometimes. “Well, how’s the Inter-House Unity project?”
Jordan sighed. “Cecilia and I have come to an agreement,” he said, his voice flatter than a squirrel on a major highway. “We’re turning in our project as it is. There are no real boundaries for genealogy charts, so technically, we can stop wherever we want. It’s just… I was hoping to stop with Merlin and Gryffindor, for my own vanity.”
“My project’s pretty good,” Haley offered. “Anatoly’s actually a really nice guy, you know.”
“He has a strange aura,” Jordan said vaguely.
Haley didn’t even want to think about that, let alone ask. She just hoped that whatever her own aura looked like, it wasn’t giving away her intent”after all, it would be a bit more difficult to pull the wool over Jordan’s eyes now. She segued into a new subject, keeping her voice light and friendly. “So, I was talking to Anatoly earlier, and we were kind of arguing about music, and he said that I can’t judge the Beatles until I’ve heard more of their music. So… can you play some for me?”
“Er…” Jordan stammered hesitantly.
“Why are you ‘er’ing at me?” exclaimed Haley. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’m your twin sister! I’ve heard you sing in the shower your whole life!”
“That was supposed to encourage me?” Jordan asked incredulously.
Haley rolled her eyes. “Oh, just go on and play. The first song’s called… uh… something ‘lane’. It starts off talking about a barber…”
Jordan tried not to look eager to demonstrate his musical prowess, but he didn’t succeed. He grabbed his bright red guitar from behind the sofa and strummed a few chords. “You mean ‘Penny Lane’?” he asked, and began to play and sing.
“Penny Lane, there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head that he has had the pleasure to know
And the people come and go, stop and say hello…”
He continued with the song, and Haley sank back comfortably in her chair. She may have been the Potter twin who was wanted to make a living off of her voice, but she was always awed by Jordan’s singing when she got to hear it. His voice was so rich and warm and expressive, with just the perfect balance of polish and huskiness… nothing like the way he talked at all. When he was through with the song, Haley asked eagerly, “What about ‘Imagine’?”
And so they continued, through “Yellow Submarine”, “A Day In The Life”, “Hey Jude”, “All You Need Is Love”, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” (Haley was totally gobsmacked by the fact that someone had written a catchy ditty about a boy who murdered people by whacking them upside the head with a hammer), “Yesterday”, “Across the Universe”, and finally, “Come Together.”
Haley must have spent the better part of an hour raptly listening to her brother. She’d never been an especially big fan of the Beatles”showtunes and bubble-gum pop being more her style”but she great talent when she heard it, and she couldn’t deny that Jordan had it, in so annoyingly many ways.
In fact, she was so transfixed that she almost forgot about her ulterior motives. At long last, she got to her feet and announced, “Well, uh, that was… freakishly amazing. Thanks for playing for me!”
And with that, she gave her twin an affectionate little smooch on the cheek (causing him to stiffen and grimace in discomfort) and zipped off down the corridor.
As soon as she stepped outside, she drew out her wand and murmured, “Finite Incantatem,” ending the recording spell. Her masterpiece was ready.
Ted and his father stood outside Professor Zabini’s office, waiting for their monthly dose of Wolfsbane potion. As always, Zabini was taking his sweet time, and it was not unlike sitting in his classroom at the beginning of the period not knowing whether he’d burst out of his storeroom in two seconds or twenty minutes.
“Has your Wolfsbane been working lately?” Remus asked quietly.
The question caught Ted off guard. Normally, he would say yes, of course”how could Wolfsbane not work? But now that he came to think of it, he wasn’t so sure. “I… I don’t really know,” he said. “I mean, it’s always worked before, but the last couple months have been…weird.”
He thought back to that one terrifying transformation when he’d actually considered escaping from the Shack and attacking students at the school. Although he knew his dad had been a werewolf since the age of four and had surely gone through his own violent spells, he couldn’t divulge all of the horrible things that had gone through his mind that night.
His father was always so proud of him, and he couldn’t just shatter that by letting him know that his son had turned into a homicidal freak. There was no way that Remus Lupin could have ever wanted to kill anyone. Then again, Ted would never want to kill anyone, either. He didn’t care to acknowledge whatever was warping his mind into such a twisted shape as ‘Ted’.
Remus peered closely at his son. “Do you ever feel almost like you’re not human?” he asked. “But your intelligence is the same?”
“Er, yeah, sort of,” Ted said slowly.
His father frowned. “I’ll tell Blaise to give you your potion every day, not just on full moon. You’ll want a stronger dosage, too.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve been through it all. It has to get worse before it gets better.”
Ted sighed uncertainly, looking like a confused little boy. “It’s kind of scary,” he admitted. “I mean, I could have hurt someone…”
Remus put a protective hand on his shoulder. “But you didn’t,” he said. “And it’s our choices that make us who we are, not our abilities.”
“Who said that?” his son asked curiously. “Other than you, I mean?”
“Well, Harry says he heard it from Dumbledore,” said Remus, “but I first heard it at the Final Battle against Voldemort.” His expression was faraway, transported into the past. “Do you remember how I told you that the eight of us weren’t the only ones fighting against Voldemort? That there were eight other people who we’d never seen before and never saw again?”
Ted’s brow furrowed. “Yeah,” he replied. “At detention. You said that one of them was a werewolf and helped you feel better about… werewolf stuff, right?”
Remus nodded. “It was all a little strange. He was a little strange, but you have no idea how it all changed my life.”
Ted gave him a crooked half-smile. “I kind of do. You helped do in Voldemort, then you married Mum, got your job back at the school, and had Christina and Nathanael and me.”
Remus laughed. “Well, that’s true.”
Just then, the door to Zabini’s office swung open, and the Potions master stood before them, tall, dark, and sinister as always and holding two foaming goblets. “Your potions,” he said, barely moving his lips.
Remus took them and passed one to his son. “Oh, and Blaise--”
“Yes, I assume your son’s graduated to an adult dose of Wolfsbane each full moon. I’ve prepared his accordingly,” Zabini responded coolly. It seemed very strange to Ted that Zabini had a first name; even stranger that his father could call him by it. He couldn’t imagine the Professor as a teenager with friends who called ‘Blaise.’ “I am not, contrary to popular belief, completely ignorant when it comes to werewolves.”
“Thank you,” said Remus, blinking slightly. He paused. “Now, Ted says…”
His son interrupted him. “I sometimes feel like a wolf even when I’m, you know, not one,” he explained, feeling that if anyone told Zabini, it should be him. “And my dad thinks I should probably take Wolfsbane every day, not just on full moons.” He was aware of how crazy he sounded, and wondered how drastically he had just changed Zabini’s perception of him.
But if Zabini was shocked by this statement, he didn’t show it. His expression didn’t change, and Ted was certain that he’d say something like ‘do you really think I have enough time in my busy schedule to make such a difficult potion every day?”
“I know you’re really busy and all, but it keeps happening, and I just want to make sure I don’t hurt any--”
Zabini’s eyes flashed. “There is no need to babble, Mr. Lupin. Clearly, you need the potion, and it’s my job as Potions master to make it for you.” He began to close the door to his office, plainly signifying that the conversation was over. “Pick it up in the Hospital Wing each morning with your insulin potion.”
And the door slammed shut with such force that the goblet in Ted’s hand almost spilled over.
“Well, that was nice of him,” Ted said brightly.
“Drink that, you need to have it in your system before lunchtime,” said Remus. He paused. “And stay positive.”
Ted smiled as his father walked off down the hallway and sat down in a cozy alcove, wedged between the wall and a suit of armour in a spot so narrow that virtually no one else in the school would have fit. He looked down at his potion, preparing himself for its gritty, bitter taste. But deep inside, something clawed and begged him not to drink it, for reasons completely unrelated to flavour. Wolfsbane truly was the bane of werewolves. Just as he constantly pushed to stay dominant over the wolf inside him, the wolf wanted control itself, and scrabbled to stay in charge.
Don’t bother drinking that, hissed a small voice in the back of his head. What good will it do?
Ted stared at the potion, steaming and foaming like the mouth of a rabid animal. “Well, for one, it’ll keep me from going mad and maiming the whole school,” he thought, making what he felt was a very sensible point.
The voice laughed, a harsh bark completely unlike his own slightly dorky-sounding chuckle. Don’t fool yourself. You know that every minute, part of you wants to do just that. The potion won’t help you now. Let go. Don’t worry about the human rules they try to force on you. They don’t apply to you… you’re not a human…well, not anymore.
Ted was beginning to think the voice was his conscience’s evil twin. How could he, the sweet one, the goody-goody, think such disgusting thoughts? “Dad said that I can control the wolf.”
You’ve slipped before, haven’t you? pointed out the voice. You’re acting like it’s not your fault, that it’s not you that attacked Charybdis Nott and thought about eating your classmates. That wolf inside you isn’t another animal sharing your body. It’s you. It’s Ted Lupin, just as much as the boy. More so, in fact. Accept it.
Ted’s head was beginning to ache. “No… I know what I’m like. I just need to learn how to take control and… be me again.”
If you have to try so hard to be ‘yourself,’ it’s not really yourself it’s being, though, is it?
“But I’ve never been like this before! Well, before this year.” Ted couldn’t believe how strange it was, arguing against his own body and mind and having them rebel against him. “I’m not violent,” he insisted to himself, more to reassure himself than the voice at the back of his head.
That’s what they all say, the voice told him darkly. People change.
The voice was cruel and unyielding and inhuman… and right. Ted had changed, whether he liked it or not.
He saw his face reflected in the shiny metal goblet, as wild-eyed as he’d been on the full moon. He looked deep into his own eyes, trying to glimpse the boyish twinkle that made them recognizable.
Nothing.
Ted grabbed the goblet and drained it in one gulp.
THUD.
Zabini’s storeroom door slammed shut, and the Professor strode forth, his eyes gleaming coldly. “Your projects,” he announced, “are due immediately. I assume, of course, that each of you paid attention to my instructions. I expect a copy of the project from each student, as I’m sure your partners’ first-period teachers do.”
The class nodded mutely. They’d all learned long ago that failure to pay attention in Zabini’s class was greatly akin to suicide, and that all directions were mandatory.
“Good. I will call you up individually, and you will each hand in your projects, with the exception of Mr. Capshaw and Miss Potter, who are both in this class and must only turn in one copy. These make up a fifth of your grade for the term, and blahblahblahbblahblah…”
Well, he might as well have been saying “blahblahblah,” as far as Haley was concerned. It was nearly impossible to listen to Zabini’s constant monologuing, and she was feeling especially fidgety today
She scribbled on a scrap bit of parchment and passed it to Emma. “So, did you and Slugboy Blenkinsopp finally get your project together?”
Emma rolled her eyes and wrote back, “Sort of. We were up almost all last night, so that’s why I have bags big enough to keep goldfish in under my eyes.”
“What’s the project?”
“Eh, we wrote a play about the row Gryffindor and Slytherin had when Slytherin walked out.”
“Ooh, a play! Why wasn’t I invited?”
“Well, basically, we just yelled insults at each other and wrote them down and pretended it was a play. It’s very convincing, though. I’m expecting an O.”
Somehow, Haley doubted that a transcribed insult match was what the Professors had in mind when they assigned the project, Emma was infuriatingly right-- she always did quite well in school despite the fact that she didn’t put much effort into it. Her sharp wits could have easily been used to do homework, but instead, she used them to find clever ways to do as little work as possible.
Haley was beginning to really get nervous about the project, and she exchanged exaggerated nail-biting gestures with Anatoly across the room. Earlier, Haley had said she wasn’t worried about the project, but now that the time come, with Zabini in the flesh and everything, it was scary.
Everyone else had done a safe project. Emma and Nelson’s play, Jordan and Cecilia’s family tree, Ted and Roran O’ Reilly’s comic strip on Hogwarts history, Ivy and Tabitha’s biography of Rowena Ravenclaw. Why had she chosen to go controversial instead of picking a project that could be turned in without fuss?
But Haley being Haley, she knew she’d never be happy with the mundane. Her imagination was just as hyperactive as the rest of her, and she loved her project… just not enough to keep her legs from turning into jelly when Zabini called her name.
All other projects had been turned in without incident, and the time passed uncomfortably quickly. It seemed like only seconds went by before Zabini uttered, “Anatoly Capshaw and Harriet-Lily Potter.”
“Oh,” Haley squeaked, her voice echoing weirdly. “Yeah, um, I don’t have it.”
The entire class gasped, and Zabini swooped down on her like a giant bat. “What?” he hissed. His face was the mask of fury that he usually turned on students who failed to follow directions, but deep in his eyes there was a glimmer of pleasure, and the corner of his mouth twisted. His dreams that his two least-favourite students would fail to complete their project were all coming true.
“Oh, we did it,” Haley said quickly, “but we don’t have it right now.”
Zabini arched an eyebrow, causing Haley to shudder slightly with revulsion. “Excuse me?”
“Relax,” Anatoly chimed in merrily from the back of the room. “The best things come to those who wait.” The class looked as though Anatoly had just ridden in naked on a brontosaurus. Nobody ever gave suggestions as to what Zabini should do.
“You will receive a zero,” snarled Zabini, his lip curling in the way it did so frequently that it almost looked like a tic. “I expected a great deal more maturity and dedication from my N.E.W.T.s level class… even from you.”
Haley looked down nervously at her sparkly pink fingernails, drumming them on her desk. She’d done her work and finished her project, but she knew it would have to wait”it was all part of the plan. But even so, hearing that she would receive a zero as a fifth of her Potions grade only made her nerves worse.
She remembered how freaked out Jordan had been about the zero on his essay test, until he finally revealed he was a Seer and McGonagall forced Zabini to let him retake the test. At the time, Haley thought it was hilarious how worked-up her Jordan got about his grades, but now she could see why.
Ivy seemed nearly as anxious as her sister, being a very talented and experienced worrier. “Haley,” she whispered, “Don’t tell me you didn’t finish your project! You’ve been working so hard for months!”
“No talking!” demanded Zabini, and Ivy broke off immediately, casting one more concerned glance at her cousin.
Haley looked over her shoulder at Anatoly, who gave her a reassuring wink. It was beginning. Their project would be visible, audible, and tangible to the whole school before the end of the day.
Dinner, to be exact.
At first, nothing seemed different at the Gryffindor table, although this might have had a lot to do with how preoccupied everyone was. Emma was extremely busy ignoring Tyrone, making sure to glance absolutely everywhere in the Great Hall except at him, while Tyrone constantly darted his eyes in her direction to make certain that this hadn’t changed.
Ivy and Ted were laughing about one of Ted’s interesting potion-making mistakes, and Jordan was, of course, staring into thin air with unsettling intensity. So no one really noticed how bizarrely quiet Haley was being.
“So, I was thinking that if I added a couple of extra porcupine quills, my potion would be more interesting,” Ted was saying, with exuberant hand gestures. “Well, I guess if by ‘interesting’, you mean ‘exploding in my face and giving me disgusting orange spots and leeks growing out of my nose’, I was right.” He made a face. “You should have seen the looks I was getting on the way down to the Hospital wing. I looked like… like a Chinese New Year dragon or something.” He gave Ivy a bashful grin. “There goes any respect I got from the first years.”
Ivy smiled. “Only you,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re so… what-you-see-is-what-you-get.”
Ted looked rather uncomfortable. “Erm, really? I… actually, I--” He was cut off by a loud FSHOOM and an explosion of colour on the far wall of the room.
“Whoa… what?!” A clear image of the school was projected on the wall, accompanied by soaring background music.
“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” boomed a boy’s familiar voice, disguised with a rather bad fake Australian accent. “A house divided against itself. Or rather, four houses divided against each other.”
The Great Hall was filled with confused mumblings and mutterings as everyone looked around for the source of the video, and at the staff table, Professor Zabini demanded, “What is the meaning of this?” His head darted this way and that, peering suspiciously around the Great Hall.
“And ever since the feud between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, their houses have been particularly bitterly opposed to one another. But let’s see how the members of the Hogwarts houses really feel about one another.”
And the image of Hogwarts was replaced by a montage of Hogwarts students of every house who, unaware that they were being recorded, held doors open for one another, picked up spilled objects, gave directions, helped with homework assignments, returned lost objects, complimented each other on clothing, and every other possible indication of Inter-House Unity that could be spotted in the Hogwarts corridors. A series of Beatles songs played quietly in the background, so quietly that it was difficult to tell that it was neither Paul nor John singing… and it couldn’t be George or Ringo, either. That deep, husky voice was very familiar, but no one could quite put their finger on whose it was… except for one very red-faced Gryffindor.
A Hufflepuff girl with curly hair filled the screen. “You know,” she said dreamily, “There’s this one boy in Slytherin… his name is Carlos… he’s really, really cute. Not that he probably has any idea who I am or anything.”
Next, a shaky, grainy shot of the Slytherin boys’ dormitory revealed a dark-haired boy bent over a piece of parchment, scrawling, “Heather”You’re beautiful. Love, Somebody.” He tied it to his owl’s leg, attached a box of chocolate frogs, and quickly climbed back into bed as a sleepy voice in the background muttered, “Carlos, what are you doing?”
Every girl in the Great Hall watching ‘awww’ed in unison, while most of the boys looked horrified. One curly-haired Hufflepuff let out a squeal and may have passed out, while a dark-haired boy at the Slytherin table suddenly blushed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Professor Longbottom’s face appeared on the screen next. “To me, it doesn’t really matter what house people come from. I’ve had brilliant students in all four houses… and students who can’t tell a violet from a venomous tentacula. I’ve never been able to stand biased teachers... and I’ve had a few.”
“When I was in school,” said Professor Granger-Weasley, “I never got along well with the Slytherins… well, Draco Malfoy and his friends, and that’s not the best representation of Slytherin house. I always assumed that that was what all Slytherins were like, but now that I teach here, the house that gives the most trouble is my own house.” She paused. “And often, my own family.”
Professor Lupin was next. “I think,” he said, “that I could have well been sorted into any of the four houses, and I’m sure the same could be said of most of the students here. We all have a little of each house in us in some way.”
The Hogwarts crest filled the screen, and the fake-Australian voice announced, “Inter-House Unity has already begun. And out of one hundred students surveyed, ninety-six said they’d like to get to know their fellow students better. Eighty-four said that members of other houses were friendlier to them, they’d be friendlier back. So what are you waiting for, Hogwarts? You’ve just finished your Inter-House Unity projects. This is ours”a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, who’ve gotten to be great friends. Don’t you want to try and change something around here? Most of the school does.”
The picture suddenly changed to an extreme close-up of Professor Zabini, showing every pore and follicle. “Put down your wand,” he snapped. “What is the meaning of… that wand is recording! Put it down immediately! Get it away from me! Are you even listening to me? EXPELLIARMUS!”
There was a clatter and his face was abruptly replaced by a sea of grey and white squiggles before the Hogwarts crest returned.
“Again, most of the school. But what do you expect from a man who… well, we all know about him and the potato! Good evening!”
And with that, the video was over.
There was a long, hesitant silence, while at the staff table, Professor Zabini was turning a rather interesting shade of purple and muttering to himself. And then, as if the thought struck all of the student body at the exact same second, the Great Hall burst into applause.
“Haley!” whispered Ivy, “that was your project, wasn’t it? How did you do it?”
Haley grinned. “A magician never reveals her secrets,” she replied, and got to her feet, smoothing her hair.
“Where are you going?” asked Ivy.
Haley’s grin widened to Cheshire-cat proportions, her eyes sparking disconcertingly brightly. “You’ll see in a moment,” she chirped, shooting a discreet glance over to the Slytherin table.
Just as Haley was standing, so was another figure, this one tall and taut-faced with dark eyes, dark robes, and an expression darker than both put together. Professor Zabini scanned the student body, eyes narrowed. And when he spoke, his voice was just as carrying as that of the Australian-accented voiceover on the video. “The… spectacle that just occurred was not approved by the school,” he proclaimed, “and if and when its creators are found, they will receive punishment. Disrupting the””
But if he said anything more, it was drowned out by a sudden loud burst of music. A recorded brass band blared out the opening fanfare of the Marseilles.
“What the….?!” Zabini murmured, fulfilling his surprise quota for the day.
Then, the trumpets were replaced by the soft strumming of a guitar and a high, clear voice from somewhere in the midst of the crowds in the Great Hall began to sing. “Love, love, love… love, love, love… love, love, love, love…”
“Whoever is singing, she””
And with that, Harriet-Lily Potter mounted the Gryffindor table and stood straight and the closest thing to ‘tall’ that she could manage, singing.
“There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done
Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung…”
“Miss Potter, get down from there at once!” spat Zabini, and looked around at the staff table for support. The other teachers seemed to be unusually unhelpful, sitting with folded hands and expressions of mild interest, even the typically strict Professor Granger-Weasley. “Miss Potter, stop at once!”
Haley simply flashed him a dazzling smile and waved cheerfully, continuing to sing:
“Nothing you can say but you can learn to play the game
It’s easy.
There’s nothing you can make that can’t be made
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It’s easy…”
She glanced around at the gape-mouthed students staring up at her (Jordan was a deep shade of red previously only found on cooked lobsters, recognizing the guitar accompaniment) and said, “If you really believe in what I’m singing, come up here with me and join in.”
“All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love…
Love is all you need.”
Haley took a deep breath, realizing that as fantastic as her plan seemed in theory, how cool it would be to stand on the house table and sing her heart out while the veins in Zabini’s temples bulged increasingly more and more ominously, maybe Hogwarts wasn’t ready for this. Maybe she’d just look like a complete idiot. Maybe no one would join in.
But when she opened her mouth to sing the refrain again, a slightly off-key male voice joined hers:
“All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love…
Love is all you need.”
Anatoly Capshaw strode smartly up to the Gryffindor table and took Haley’s hand, an expression of great dignity on his pimply face as he sang. Haley squeezed his hand, relieved that things were going according to plan. Hopefully, the rest of the school would follow suit once they saw that a Slytherin was the first to join in. She made a mental note to give Anatoly the biggest hug ever once this was over.
She sang her solo verse with renewed confidence.
“There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
It’s easy.”
Just then, as she prepared to begin the next chorus, a small blur streaked forth from the Ravenclaw table. Tiny little Tabitha Thomas stepped up onto the Gryffindor table and grabbed onto Anatoly’s free hand, her soft voice blending with the sixth years’.
“All you need is love.
All you need is love…”
Tyrone let out a whoop and jumped up onto the table with such enthusiasm that it shook, joining his little sister adding his deep, warm, and unnecessarily loud voice to the mix.
“All you need is love, love…
Love is all you need.”
Haley beamed. It was like being in a musical, where people randomly burst into song simultaneously. The Thomases had opened the floodgates. Three Hufflepuff girls and a tall Ravenclaw Prefect marched proudly to the table.
“No one else is to join in!” Zabini shouted uselessly.
“All you need is love…”
Ivy and Ted joined the group, hands already clasped together, along with a Slytherin first year and Roran O’Reilly. A dark-haired Slytherin boy ran over to Hufflepuff table and, without a word, kissed a curly-haired girl and led her up to the growing group of singers.
“All you need is love…”
The Head Boy and Head Girl joined the party proudly, followed by a gaggle of second year Ravenclaws and some nervous-looking Slytherins.
“All you need is love, love…”
A low, resonant voice rose beautifully from the crowd as Jordan climbed up to the table with something very much like brotherly pride gleaming in his eyes. And behind him came nearly all of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, followed by the Hufflepuff team.
“Love is all you need.”
By now, the chain had spilled from Gryffindor table onto onto the Ravenclaw table and the space of the floor connecting them, and was still growing rapidly. Almost no one was still sitting at Gryffindor table. Emma was among the last few, focusing resolutely on her dinner and pretending to be totally blind and deaf. But as she looked around at the empty chairs on either side of her and her smiling friends singing and swaying, she felt like a slightly but distinctly horrible person.
She had no desire to do anything as sappy as holding hands and singing about love, and she certainly didn’t trust the Slytherins, but she hated feeling like there was a wall between her and her friends. She could see Jordan, his normally solemn face relaxed and smiling, and Ivy and Ted leaning sickeningly on one another. Tyrone was there, his smug face alight as he and his little sister swung their joined hands back and forth. And of course, Haley in the centre of it all, looking radiantly proud and surprisingly grown-up. They’d all supported her and cheered her on when she’d been in the Triwizard Tournament; they deserved the same from her.
Emma stood up, flicking her hair over her shoulders, and strode up to join the chain. She may not have believed that love was all the world needed, but she did believe in friendship.
“All you need is love,
All you need is love…”
The chain now formed a near circle, stretching across all four house tables and still growing. And just when it looked like everyone who was going to join already had, the crowds parted to reveal a tall, blond figure.
Technically speaking, it was Ophidias Malfoy. But it was not the Ophidias that Hogwarts knew. No longer the miserable, slouching ghost he’d been since his time in Azkaban, he looked almost like the old Ophidias”head held high, expression defiant, movements decisive and eyes daring anyone to stop him. But the old Ophidias would never have joined hands with a small Gryffindor first year and closed the circle of students, singing alongside the rest of the chain.
Ivy smiled over at him, and he smiled back, his own expression as disbelieving as those surrounding him.
“All you need is love, love
Love is all you need.”
After the big musical number, the general atmosphere in the Great Hall was an awkwardly optimistic one. Having just sung about love and unity, students who had never spoken before had no choice but to converse uncomfortably with one another.
Haley sat down, all flushed and excited and generally giddy. Everything had gone far, far better than she had ever expected. So many students had joined in… even Ophidias Malfoy. Whether through genuine caring or peer pressure or the desire to do something against Zabini’s orders, most of Hogwarts had supported her. And what was even better was that there were too many participants for Zabini to give them all detention! Even if he tried, the other teachers would never let him get away with it.
Haley was swamped by people who wanted to tell her what nerve she had, what an original idea it was, and more than anything, how beautiful her voice was”and she loved every minute of it. She guessed this was what it might be like when she became a famous actress.
While she was busy, her friends were making their way out of the Great Hall, still talking about the stunt that Haley had staged.
“That was my guitar accompaniment!” Jordan was saying for the thousandth time. “She tricked me! I can’t believe she tricked me!”
“It was for a good cause,” Ivy told him sensibly. “You know you wouldn’t have played for her if she’d told you what she was up to.”
“I… don’t mind, actually,” he said slowly, looking amazed at what was coming from his mouth. “It was dishonest and conniving, and pulling a major trick like she did was horribly ill-conceived”she could have gotten us both in massive trouble”but I think it was the right thing to do.” He paused, letting his own statement sink in. It sometimes seemed to him that the Seer in him didn’t take care to run its opinions by his brain before expressing them.
He scratched the back of his neck. “What really is bothering me is the fact that she managed to fool me. I’ve known her my entire life, and I can usually tell if people are up to something… especially now… well, I can’t believe she managed to get something like that past me.”
Because there was a Quidditch game”the final match of the year”the next day, Jordan had been rather preoccupied lately, even for him. But that still didn’t explain how Haley had broken his shield of near-omniscience and gotten past him. He was so wrapped up in thought that he nearly tripped over a large lump on the ground. Ted actually did.
“Watch where you’re going!” shouted an oddly choked-up sounding voice from the ground. “Well, what are you staring at?” Charybdis Nott demanded, glaring up at the four Gryffindors with red-rimmed eyes. Her nose was just as red, and her cheeks were streaked with the stains of tears. “No, I didn’t help you out in your little love-fest. Just go away.”
“Not a bad idea,” muttered Emma, nudging Ivy uneasily in the ribs. Her uneasiness was clear, so clear that less brave friends would have made certain that she never came in contact with any Slytherins ever again, just to keep her from wearing That Look.
But none of them could help but stare. Charybdis was actually crying. The thought had never crossed their minds that she was capable of it, or that she was indeed a human being.
Only Ted did not look particularly surprised. His hearing, always sharper than average, was especially acute this close to full moons, and as he’d left the Great Hall earlier, he’d heard Charybdis’s mosquito-like little whine of a voice.
“Ophidias,” she’d said, “get back here! Don’t just walk away like that! What’s up with you lately? Why were you up there singing with all the Mudbloods and blood traitors and--”
“SHUT UP!” Ophidias had shouted. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop following me around? I can’t stand you!”
Charybdis had gasped and made a strange little strangled stuttering noise in the back of her throat. And that, Ted presumed, was when they had walked by.
He paused, looking over at her, and after a moment, extended his hand and said, “Need help?”
Charybdis stared at him as though he’d offered her a kitten sandwich. “You want me to touch that?” she snapped, leaning away from Ted’s hand as though it carried a deadly disease. “Go back to the woods where you belong.”
There was a collective gasp at this, especially considering Ted’s ‘mood swings’ lately. Charybdis was quite stupid to tempt him to attack her yet again. But Ted just gave Charybdis a calm, friendly smile and said, “I don’t think I would belong in the woods. I mean, I’m toilet trained, I eat cooked food, I even walk around dressed like a normal guy… I’d be the laughingstock of the wolf pack. Or, you know, howlingstock.” He placed Charybdis’s spilled books back in her cauldron and smiled blandly once more at her.
Charybdis snatched her cauldron back, glaring at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but just go away. No one wants you here with all the regular people.”
“Luckily, that’s not true,” he replied, keeping his tone light, but he did follow her advice and go away, following his friends back to the Common Room.
Emma shook her head once they were safely out of earshot. “You’re bonkers for Bertie Botts,” she said. “I don’t believe you, Ted. You actually talked to Charybdis Nott? I thought she was going to kill you!”
Ted shrugged. “I’m just trying for a little Inter-House Unity. I mean, I don’t sing for just anything…”
“Good,” Emma interjected, and even Jordan snorted.
“And besides, I felt bad for her,” continued Ted, not bothering to acknowledge Emma’s comment with more than an embarrassed smile. “I heard Ophidias telling her that he couldn’t stand her. I’d be crying, too, if I was her… he said to stop following him around.”
“Hmm,” said a deep voice, and suddenly, Tyrone was standing there, his eyebrows raised and his arms folded. “Really. Wonder what that’s got to be like, being told something like that.”
And before anything else could be said, he stalked off into the boys’ dorm, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Jordan was rather ashamed to admit it, but he just hadn’t been focusing as much on Quidditch lately as he had the previous year. He loved the game, and flying was one of his favourite things in the world, but he’d been so focused on his new talents”and, of course, his Inter-House Unity project”that he hadn’t been quite as… involved as before. Or maybe a better word was ‘obsessed.’
Still, he knew that he was the captain of a good team, and he was confident that they had what it took to beat Hufflepuff in the final match. They practiced constantly, they had great teamwork and a thorough knowledge of plays, and they were committed.
And best of all, he no longer had to worry about the welfare of two of his star players. Emma and Tyrone hadn’t entered the Forbidden Forest since before the Valentine’s Day ball. In fact, they’d barely spoken since then. But that didn’t matter, because they played two entirely different positions, and besides, Jordan had never liked Tyrone much. He’d always found him annoyingly loud, and his every move seemed to scream ‘look at me!’ It was rather relieving to not have to put up with Tyrone hanging around his friends anymore.
Speaking of Tyrone, he paced back and forth in the dressing room as the team prepared for their championship match. Everyone was silent from nerves, pulling on uniforms and stretching without a word.
Jordan, too, was nervous, and it coiled and pinched uncomfortably around the pit of his stomach as he sat there. He half-wished for a vision telling him whether they’d win, but he was terrified that he would discover they would lose. And besides, he reminded himself, the future can always be changed. Nothing is set in stone. It wouldn’t be any good in any case.
He checked his watch. The game was set to begin in three minutes… it was time to get ready. He cleared his throat and turned to the team to deliver his pep talk. “Well,” he said, “This is it. As almost all of you were on this team last year”except for you, Trajan”you can testify to how truly incredibly this team can be. I can’t promise another ten-second match”that was a fluke”but I am fairly certain that you will make me proud.”
He paused. “I suppose it’s best if I quit while I’m ahead. This is, after all, a Quidditch team, not Parliament. Just get ready to play Quidditch.” The team cheered, probably with relief that his speech hadn’t been as long-winded as they’d feared.
And just then, Haley’s magically amplified voice shouted from the stadium, “GOOD MORNING, HOGWARTS! We are Quidditching today! I’m Haley Potter, everyone’s favourite commentator and tabletop chanteuse”means ‘singer’ according to my friend Lee, who knows these things”and although I totally think Inter-House Unity is great, it’s always nice to have a little friendly competition, and, uh, brain-bashing with a giant club. But enough of that! Let’s hear it for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor!”
At that, Jordan hopped on his broom and flew out of the changing room and onto the pitch, leading the other six members of the team into the bright sunshine. The Hufflepuff team zoomed out of their changing room simultaneously, and the two teams met in the middle.
Jordan shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain (a huge seventh year Beater in whose massive hand Jordan’s looked like a doll’s) and turned to face the stands, his heart thumping.
“And… let the match begin!”
The game started well. Just two minutes in, Emma knocked the Quaffle out a Hufflepuff Chaser’s hands with the end of her broom, then grabbed it out of the air and punted it straight through the hoop, scoring the first goal of the game. In the stands, Haley’s amplified ‘squee’s ricocheted from every wall.
The action moved so quickly that even Haley’s motor-mouth could barely keep up. Hufflepuff was good, but even so, Gryffindor was in the lead by a few points.
Half an hour into the game, Haley was still going strong. “Dickinson passes to Mullroy, back to Dickinson, she’s headed for the hoop, ohhh, intercepted by Ophelia Wood of Gryffindor! She dodges a Bludger”nice one, great reflexes”and passes to Walters”Trajan Walters, second year and already a great Chaser, he’s the Gryffindor Rookie of the year, kind of like Hufflepuff’s new Beater, Amir! And… wow, Walters puts it through the hoop! Ten points for Gryffindor… but the Hufflepuffs have the ball, and they’ve got their game faces on…”
Jordan made his way around the pitch in smooth, easy circles, scanning the air for the Snitch. This was always nerve-wracking, knowing that the Snitch could be right behind him at any minute. So much of the game depended on the Seeker”Gryffindor may have been beating Hufflepuff by three goals, but if Hufflepuff caught the Snitch, they would still win.
Jordan glanced over at the Hufflepuff Seeker, a third year girl named Papadakis who looked more like a first year but flew like a seventh year. Like Haley, she may have looked small and cute, but that was part of what made her so dangerous.
“Hufflepuff Beaters are fantastic, they just keep parrying those Bludgers away,” announced Haley forty-five minutes into the game. “In fact, I don’t think anyone on the Hufflepuff team’s gotten hit since these guys joined the team. Oh… and wow, speaking of Hufflpeuff, Mullroy’s just distracted Gryffindor’s Keeper”keep your eye on the Quaffle, Featherstone”and…Dickinson’s made a goal! Watch out, Gryffs, the ‘Puffs are gaining on you, just two goals behind!”
Jordan smacked himself in the forehead. Just like Featherstone to be so easily distracted. He filed away a mental note to work with him on developing better focus when Quidditch season rolled around the next year. Now Gryffindor was only ahead by two goals, and he’d been flying for suspiciously long without seeing so much as a glimpse of the Snitch. He hoped Papadakis hadn’t seen it, either.
Find the Snitch… it was as though he’d keyed in a password in his brain and doors had swung open. A string of images flashed rapidly through his mind”himself on his broom, plummeting within an inch of the ground; a Bludger tearing the wing off of the Snitch; the damaged Snitch falling neatly into his hand; himself hoisting the Quidditch Cup into the air…
Jordan did not think. His brain was on autopilot, blocking out any thoughts or doubts or reservations. A switch in his mind had flipped, and in an instant, he had spurred on his broom and was rocketing at a frightening speed toward the ground.
The crowd gasped as he dove, and Haley announced, “And Potter”that’s my baby brother”is making a, er, really, really big dive that’s kind of, um, freaking me out a lot. Is he after the Snitch, or is it a Wronski Feint, or is his broom busted or what? Papadakis is staying in the air, looking confused… and Potter’s still in the dive… this is scary.”
Her twin didn’t hear her. He’d blocked out everything but the smooth feel of his broom, the wind whistling around him and ruffling his hair and clothes, the stunning green of the pitch as it rose closer and closer toward him…
“And it looks like Papadakis sees the Snitch!” shouted Haley. “She’s going for it, she’s… awww, did you see that? Amir hit his Bludger the wrong way, and it knocked the wing off the Snitch! Papadakis reaches, but it’s falling fast…”
And as suddenly as he’d gone into the dive, Jordan stopped his broom with a jerk, floating centimeters above the ground. He had no idea how his father had managed to fly with glasses on”his stop had practically caused his own organs to jettison themselves, and glasses would never have stood a chance.
But such things weren’t bothering him at the moment. He stretched out his hand and concentrated only on the twinkling gold ball tumbling down from the sky… closer now… closer now…
His fingers closed tightly around the ball, feeling its one good wing flutter uselessly against his fingers. Gracefully, he stepped down from his nearly grounded broomstick and onto the soft grass of the pitch, his fist held aloft.
Up in the stadium, a whistle sounded, wild cheers erupted, and Haley shrieked, “And… in a really weird kind of way, Potter catches the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup for the second year in a row! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to scream like a loony. WOOOOHOOOOO!”
And before he knew what was happening, Jordan was buried in a mob of excitable well-wishers and buoyed up on the shoulders of the crowd. The shiny gold Quidditch Cup, remarkably similar in colour to the Snitch, was thrust into his hands, and some girl he’d never seen ran up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. It wasn’t until the floods of people began to subside that reality began to sink in.
Jordan had not won the game.
Oh, according to all of the rules and records, he had. His team had been awarded the Quidditch Cup and the chance for a wild and Professor-terrifying afterparty. By all accounts, he had led his team to triumph.
But he knew better. He hadn’t won the game, his vision had.
He didn’t follow the rest of the Gryffindors up to the party in the Common Room. Instead, he took his time in the locker room, moving at a speed not dissimilar to that of a slow-motion snail.
There was only one other person in the locker room by now, and she glanced over at him with an expression somewhere between bemusement and suspicion. “What, no gloating?” said Emma.
She kept a safe distance away”ever since he’d announced he was a Seer, she’d steered clear of him, and whenever he was near her, her aura spun wildly and the rosy pink around the edges all but disappeared. It was doing this now, like a crazy sort of Ferris Wheel, and it was difficult for Jordan to keep his eyes downcast as intended.
“Excuse me?” he said stiffly.
Emma gave a sharp little laugh. “You’ve just won the Quidditch Cup. It’s almost as good as that ten-second game last year. Why aren’t you back in the castle showing off like Tyrone Thomas?”
“Because I didn’t win,” Jordan shot back, each syllable as hard and fast as a machine gun firing. His own tone surprised even him. He was fourteen years old again, for Godric’s sake.
“Er, yeah. That makes no sense,” Emma pointed out helpfully. “Even from you.”
Jordan sighed and let his locker door slam shut. “It was lucky how I managed to catch that Snitch when I did, wasn’t it?” he said sharply. “What do you think the odds were of such good luck?” He grimaced. “Surely you can’t be stupid enough to think that really was all luck.”
“Still not following you,” Emma told him frankly.
“That’s because you’re interrupting me and not letting me finish.” He paused and listened to the dutiful silence like a grammar-school teacher. “Better. In any case, I had a vision”that’s how I knew the Bludger would rip the wing off the Snitch. There’s nothing at all in Quidditch Through the Ages or any Quidditch rulebook about Seers on the field, but even if it’s not in any official materials, I can tell that winning with a vision is cheating.”
Emma jumped slightly at the ‘v’ word. “Yeah, well, whatever, as long as we won,” she shrugged. “There’s no way they’ll disqualify us.”
“It’s not about disqualification,” Jordan snapped, and suddenly, the taught, rigid anger that he’d been full of in his fourth year returned, like a bottle of soda fizzing menacingly beneath a tightly closed cap. His green-black eyes seemed darker and more intimidating than ever. “Frankly, I care about more than just a shiny fake-gold cup, Emma. Don’t you see what this is all about?”
“Erm… nooo…” Emma stuffed her things in her bag and began to edge out of the changing room, not eager to be caught in the midst of a rant.
Too late. The gales had already begun. “Can’t you see?” he demanded in a scary, booming voice. It was easy to forget that Jordan’s usual indifferent speaking voice, all low and flat and precise, could rise to such a fierce crescendo. “I can never play Quidditch again!”
“That’s a little overdramatic, I think,” Emma said carelessly. She studied her fingernails. “Might not be too challenging anymore, but then, everything’s bloody easy for you, isn’t it?” It was an interesting contrast to usual, a disinterested and cool Emma and an explosive Jordan. For the last two years, Emma had been the one to rant and rave while Jordan stared patronizingly and muttered unhelpfully.
Jordan seethed. “It’s a question of fairness. Don’t you remember how you couldn’t stand to let Skitesby and Schiffington rig the third Triwizard Task in your favour last year?” He sighed. “Try to understand this. Would you want to play Quidditch against someone who can see what’s meant to occur later in the game?”
Emma blinked. “No,” she admitted. “I can see where you’re going…”
“Exactly. I don’t forget anymore, Emma. I know it disturbs you, but I remember nearly everything, sometimes even things that didn’t happen to me and things that haven’t happened yet. Even you think I’m a freak, and you’re allegedly my friend. It would be illogical for someone like me to be part of a team.”
His voice had returned to its cool and calculated monotone, but it was perhaps a bit too brisk. He was attempting logic again, and it wasn’t working. Logically, he couldn’t play Quidditch. Emotionally, Quidditch was what was keeping him from losing it altogether. Sometimes, emotions tried to merit logic, and that was a fact to which he still hadn’t adjusted.
Jordan stared at his Quidditch robes for a moment, then his face contorted and he balled them up and tossed them brutally into a trash can. He stepped closer to Emma, who did not seem too happy with this arrangement. “Next year,” he said matter-of-factly, “you will be captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Practice.”
“But”” Emma stammered, but Jordan did not grace her with a response. He squared his shoulders, lifted his head, strode forth from the changing room with hard, empty eyes… and tripped over a dustbin, really spoiling the dramatic effect of it all.
How much of his life would being a Seer take away from him? It had already cost him his grades, his reputation, and his relationships. But at least he’d still had the pleasure of resting his mind and simply working as a living extension of his broomstick. Flying was the last thing he’d had left that made him feel in any way normal and sane, especially rush of being the captain of his team, respected and depended upon and listened to. Now that was gone, thanks to his ‘gift,’ if you could call it that.
He sat down just outside the locker room, and leaned wearily against the wall. His mind felt stretched and flooded and too full of thoughts all screaming at once, and he wished he had a Pensieve to place them all in.
But that wouldn’t work, he remembered”Merlin had said so himself. Pensieves were only good for a person’s own personal memories, not the memories of ages past preserved in a Seer’s brain. And Pensieves could do nothing for thoughts and emotions. The only way to free himself of those was with some sort of… well, his parents would say a ‘healthy outlet’ for his pent-up emotions.
He’d had one of those. It was called ‘Quidditch.’
Just a few months before, Jordan would have given anything to know nearly everything. He’d always been highly intelligent and had always known more than almost anyone else about almost anything, but he’d always been thirsty for more knowledge. Knowing everything had been his greatest aspiration.
And suddenly, he knew so much, and he would give anything to go back to before, when he’d known shockingly little but thought he knew it all.