The next week was interminable.

For one thing, the mandrake leaf was coming at the end, and Sparrow had to cope with the sheer anticipation.

Furthermore, the specific truth of what Sparrow wanted was being lost amidst wild rumors, despite her magnificent speech. Some were saying that she wanted all wizards to marry a muggle. Well, that one was probably from the Slytherins. Some were saying that she wanted to overthrow the Wizarding government and fling curses over all the earth. Some were saying that she wanted to slaughter all the muggles so that there would only be Wizards left.

Sparrow began to worry that the rumors would get out of hand. Yet, if a speech to half the student body didn’t work, then nothing would. She could only hope that everyone would remember what she said about love, and that they understood she would never do anything that she thought would harm people.

Unfortunately some of the students had now got the idea that Sparrow was romantically attracted to everyone in the school. Which was not aided in any way by the fact that everyone knew she was dating two people. She wasn’t, exactly, not at the moment, not yet, but she had indicated such in her speech, hadn't she? And the terrible thing about rumor is that people who spread rumors are interested in sensational concepts, not mitigating details. So, on top of Sparrow’s anticipation of the mandrake leaf, she had to worry about being buried in love letters once February rolled around.

And it didn’t help that there were still people who wanted to give her a hearty handshake, if they hadn’t had the chance already. Really, now. Didn’t these people have classes to attend?

It was only partly to take her mind off such troubles that Sparrow was diligent when it came to attending practice sessions with Jocasta. She studied hard and paid attention, and learned much, and had quite a bit of fun. And Jocasta has having quite a bit of fun with her.

As a result, they quite forgot to attend to necessary tasks for a few days. It did not take much effort to get the kitchen staff to put Sparrow on a liquid diet, as a rudimentary reference to Sparrow’s madness was enough to get them on board. Some people will drop anything to help solve someone else’s problem, especially someone who arranged such a wonderful duel, talk of the entire kitchen staff, best thing they’d seen in years, please marry my daughter.

Both Sparrow and Jocasta had said “yes” to that request at the same time, mostly as a joke. Hopefully the kitchen staff took it that way.

“Oh I don’t know,” said Headmistress McGonagall. She sipped her tea. “For all I know, you would come to enjoy having yet another pretty young lady for your harem.”

The fire in the hearth burned warm, but it was not the fire that was making Sparrow’s face feel hot, nor the tea. “Let’s leave that issue aside for now,” she said, and she set her tea down. “Personal matters anyway.”

“Ah,” said the Headmistress. “If that is what you wish. You prefer to speak of business?”

“That is why I called upon you. I mean – you’re the headmistress and you’re busy and all, with…Headmistress stuff. I don’t know. Administering curriculums and the like.”

“Didn’t feel you had the right to ask me for a friendly chat, eh?”

“Not if it would take time out of your paperwork, no. I feel as though I was…impudent, in December. Requesting an audience on short notice.”

“And you think I would mind being taken away from my paperwork.” She sipped her tea. “Ha! Nobody likes the paperwork, dearie. Not even the adults who design it. Now, what are you here to ask me about?”

“I’m thinking I…might have went a little overboard with the whole dueling thing. Risked people’s lives for a spectacle that I couldn’t actually contain. And all that. Started to arrange the whole thing before actually asking your permission. And then went and…talked about the Statute of Secrecy in front of half the school with a magically amplified voice.”

“Oh dearie me,” said McGonagall. “You violated one of my strict stipulations.” She winked.

“You don’t mind that I did all that?”

“I appreciated seeing a demonstration of the level of skill that two of my students had achieved in their extracurricular activities, as well as a wonderful spectacle, a thrilling narrative, and something to distract the student body from getting up to mischief for at least a few hours.”

“But the danger…I mean, I barely contained it.”

McGonagall set her tea down. “Miss Jones. How much have you heard about the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Harry Potter got tossed into the competition by accident, completed deadly challenges like a clever duck, and then won the whole thing.”

“I mean the first time it was stopped. Back in 1792.”

Sparrow thought back to her History of Magic classes. “Oh, yes. It was because someone died in the tournament.”

“No.”

“Two people died?”

McGonagall wore a stony expression. “People died during that tournament, yes. As they did in previous tournaments. But I believe it was because the cockatrice attacked the judges. Oh, then they realized things were getting out of hand.”

“And then…” Sparrow drummed her fingers on the setee. “They started it up again centuries later…and Harry Potter nearly got killed…and then nearly died again…and got kidnapped by Voldemort…and his friend got killed by Voldemort…alright, so that explains part of why they only started the thing up again recently.”

“Precisely. We’re more squeamish about the deaths of our children now. But, not so much that parents are picky about what goes on around here. And I allow some leeway so that the children learn practical defense in the wild, so to speak. Far more than you do.”

Sparrow pursed her lips.

“In the sense that I allow the dueling club to continue its activities. And oh, there have been times when the children have gone too far. Too many injuries. Burns, lacerations, splinchings. I had to get the club to prohibit certain spells, or else Madame Pomfrey might be overwhelmed! She already has to deal with the results of magical accidents on a daily basis.”

“Kinda wish I could save people from those too.”

“Don’t we all. And yet – here we are, shut up in a castle full of children, giving them all tools of great power…it is not quite like Muggles putting a pack of children in a school and giving them all electric drills, but you can see what I mean about danger being a part of our lives. So, when it came to your little duel, I would say that does not reach the heights of peril I have seen around here.”

“Um.”

“I imagine you of all people would not find that reassuring.”

“Indeed not. I mean I know the heights of peril around here have a pretty high bar to clear, but in non-wartime circumstances – ”

Basilisks in the walls.”

“Okay, I know about that one.”

A teacher who had Voldemort hidden in his own Turban.”

“Not that it did him any good.”

Death eaters who were able to infiltrate the school through a magical cabinet.”

“I’d call that wartime circumstances.”

The time the Ministry sent Dementors to guard the castle.”

“They did WHAT?”

The physical substance of the portraits did not rattle in their frames, but the portraits themselves were rather rattled for being shouted awake. McGonagall gave Sparrow a pointed look.

Sparrow felt like she had quite a bit more to add but she thought better of it.

“The worst part is that their parents didn’t even object like they objected to the basilisk. So, you can see the top level of danger the Wizarding world allows its children, and it’s quite a bit higher than you allow. Now that I think of it – Friday’s duel wasn’t even the most dangerous moment in your life here. Unless you met with something worse than all those falling stones?”

Sparrow thought back to the incident with the Forbidden Section of the library. And the incident with the Nark. “No,” she said. “Nothing worse than the rocks.”

“Moreover – I do not wish to burst your bubble, but Friday’s match was not the most spectacular Wizarding duel I’ve ever seen. A wonderful spectacle, yes. Up there with the professionals. But not the grandest.”

Sparrow’s posture shrank slightly as if she was deflating.

“And yet, yes, potentially hazardous to the audience. Thank goodness we had you around, hm? Casting a spell all by herself that usually requires ten Wizards to weave wards for a week? My my. You’re already above the professionals. In skill, if not endurance. Someone informed me that you fainted from exhaustion?”

“I’d say I fell asleep before my bedtime, but yes. And then slept until the mid-morning.”

“Well. Thank goodness it happened on a Friday, or you might have missed a few classes.”

Sparrow pursed her lips.

Something wrong, dearie?”

“It’s nothing. Thank you for giving me some perspective regarding the scale of my actions. And…in regards to the Statute of Secrecy, I have not made any developments on that front, but I do believe in what I said to the students. That I must gain a real consensus before daring to continue.”

“I see.” The Headmistress placed her hands on her lap. “Democracy, eh? Well. I wonder if I ought to dare to broach the subject with the Ministry. I might find myself in peril from many sneaking assassins! Then you would be quite handy to have around.”

“That’s one half of the issue,” said Sparrow. “The other half is obtaining a consensus from Muggles about whether they’d actually want to have the chance to wield Wizard Magic.”

“That would violate the Statute of Secrecy all by itself, now wouldn’t it?”

“Depending on how I worded the question. But yes. It would. I can’t actually talk to muggles about any of this without breaking the law. But if I don’t then ending the age-old Secrecy might be too much for them to handle. But if I keep up the age-old Secrecy then they continue to suffer and die. It’s a terrible dilemma.”

“I can’t help you break the law,” said McGonagall. “Nor condone illegality.”

“I know.” Sparrow rose from her seat. “Many questions remain to be asked and answered. If you wish to broach this subject to the Ministry…I have to figure out if I’m ready for whatever deadly force they employ in taking me seriously. I will let you know.”

“All in good time,” said McGonagall. “Time you were getting to bed anyway.” She rose, and escorted Sparrow to the staircase.

As Sparrow descended the stairs, she felt a little ashamed, indeed a little queasy, to be keeping the full truth of her plans hidden from a friendly elder. But such plans would have no chance of success without that silence.

Right?

 

 

The standard four-poster beds of Hogwarts were adequately comfortable. But they did not match the embrace of Jillian Patil for comfort, nor for warmth. At least not in Sparrow’s estimation. She didn’t even need to be in front of the fire to feel warm. All she needed was to be here by Jill’s side, under her mighty arm like a chick under a hen’s wing. She’d feel warm doing that anywhere, even in a cold driving rain.

“Do you feel less queasy now?” said Jill.

“Oh yes.” Sparrow let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. “But if I leave? Then I might feel queasy again. I might have to stay here allllllllllll night.”

“I do have to sleep eventually.”

“Sleep here.”

“Tempting. I might get pins and needles in my leg though.”

“Carry me to your bed then?”

“Tempting. But I’d feel a lot less awkward doing that if we had a room to ourselves, and something heavy I could place over my wand. You know how I am about feeling embarrassed. And Dorm Room 6 hasn’t shown up again.”

“Aw. You can’t even bring Jocasta to your bed?”

“Sparrow, she’s a Slytherin. What exactly do you think happens if people notice her waking up in a Hufflepuff dormitory bed next to me?”

Mrrrowr.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of cooing over True Love. Or yelling at us for violating dormitory rules. Possibly both. There are non-sexual reasons to sleep next to somebody in bed, my dear."

"Yeah but —" Sparrow yawned. "We're talking about Jocasta."

"Okay, fair enough. I um. I did get a chance to understand exactly where you're coming from. With that statement."

"How many times?"

"Just once so far."

"Aw."

There was a small thump. Sparrow opened her eyes. Jocasta was standing between them and the fire.

“Hey girl,” said Jill. “How did it go?”

“Arm.”

“Hm?”

Jocasta grabbed Jill’s left arm and tried to lift it. Jill got the hint and did the work for her. So there were now two chicks under Jill’s wings.

Jocasta snuggled a bit deeper into Jill's embrace. “I don’t know what to say about it really.”

“Was Miranda with you?”

“Wouldn’t have managed it without her.”

“Did Professor Longbottom say anything?”

“Not much.”

“Did he look angry?”

“No. He didn’t smile with his mouth but I think he was smiling with his eyes.”

“Do you feel relieved?”

“I don’t know. Still a little tense. A lot tense. If he blabs about the Animagus potion…I have to hope that he likes Miranda enough to not do that.”

“I bet he won’t blab,” said Sparrow.

“Can you be certain?” said Jocasta.

“Well, I think if he didn’t look mad and he didn’t look worried…heh. He was part of Dumbledore’s Army. He knows about being a rebel with a cause. I bet he’s enjoying the chance to be Cool again.”

“To be Wicked,” said Jill. “Miranda would know if we were right. But hey, she recommended him. Did he make any recommendations?”

“Oh yes,” said Jocasta. “He said talk to McGonagall.”

“Hm,” said Sparrow. "And you don't want to."

"Absolutely one hundred percent definitely not," said Jocasta.

“Might be wise,” said Jill.

“She’d make us register,” said Sparrow. “That blows the whole plan out of the water.”

“Talking of which,” said Jill, “Does Longbottom know we’re doing this illegally?”

“Um – ”

“Jocasta. Please tell me you didn’t leave out that part.”

“He knows we’re doing this on the sly, I told him.”

“But he sent you to McGonagall.”

“Maybe,” said Sparrow, “He’s trying to gently steer us away from an illegal course of action without hurting Miranda’s feelings.”

“We have to talk to Miranda about this at some point,” said Jill. “I feel a little uneasy getting a Hogwarts teacher involved in something this super goddamn illegal.”

“Oh,” said Jocasta, “just a little?”

“I could get all cynical,” said Sparrow. “I bet Longbottom thinks he’s safe because he controls all the potion ingredients, mwa ha ha ha ha.”

“Very cynical,” said Jocasta. “And not out of the realm of possibility here.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any better though.”

“Likewise.”

“I have to go to bed soon,” said Jill.

“Noooooooo,” said Sparrow.

“Stayyyyyyyy,” said Jocasta.

“Oh,” said Jill. “But maybe Sparrow doesn’t want me to stay after the trick I played.”

“You got me good,” said Sparrow.

“Flawless execution,” said Jocasta.

"Please," said Jill. "I just spotted an opportunity, that's all."

"And you executed it flawlessley with no time to rehearse," said Jocasta. "Couldn't have done it better myself. The look on Sparrow's face when she stepped out the door, I shall treasure forever. I shall use it to cast a patronus. Did I tell you I love you?"

"Not today yet," said Jill.

“Were you gonna call Madam Pomfrey though?” said Sparrow.

“If you had slept past noon?” said Jill. “Yes. I would have. You’re always up before me, Sparrow. I did have to worry about you slipping into a coma, if you were asleep past the mid-morning.”

“Well then.” Sparrow snuggled a little deeper into Jill's embrace. “If you're so protective, why should you leave me now?”

"Because my arms might fall asleep?"

"That's not a problem if the rest of you also falls asleep."

“Because I’ve been sitting on my wand this entire time and I would like to go to my own bed so that I can stop worrying about the stupid thing?”

“But if you stand up,” said Sparrow, “then the wand will come flying at me.”

“Hush now, and I will settle that matter.”

Jill closed her eyes. For a few minutes she said no words, only breathed deeply, in, out, in. Then she opened her eyes. She gave Sparrow a kiss on her head, and Jocasta a kiss for hers. Then she lifted her arms and let the two girls go, and rose, taking up her wand and departing to her dorm.

Sparrow and Jocasta were left to take comfort in each other’s arms, which they did. They remained there as the logs burned down, down to the last embers.

“Sparrow?”

“Hm?”

“You said you looked really deep into Jill’s eyes.”

“Yeah I did.”

“And you saw things on fire?”

“Kinda looked like it, yeah.”

“And she looked into your eyes.”

“Sure did.”

“Did she ever tell you what she saw?”

“She said she saw the gleam of a knight's armor.”

“Yeah.” Jocasta pressed herself a bit closer to Sparrow, and hugged her a bit more tightly. “Sounds about right.”

 

 

It was almost time for the mandrake leaf. But there was yet another vexing issue to consider that Sparrow didn’t know how to resolve. And that was the weather. The daily and nightly rain. She didn’t know how to clear the skies and ensure a full moon when she needed it.

She wasn’t sure if she should even do so. If there was some spirit on high looking down upon the proceedings and seeing that all the boxes were checked, and that she had done everything properly, why then, they would think that weather manipulation was some kind of cheating, and perhaps turn Sparrow into a newt forever, or turn her skin to stone. It was possible that, if Sparrow were to cry “Ventus” to the heavens and blast a hole in the clouds, it would lead her to ruin.

On the other hand, what gods were there, if any? Magic did not come from beseeching any sort of great spirit, nor, indeed, had Sparrow ever, in her entire life, heard a Wizard make reference to one. Magic came from wands, everyone knew that. You made a wand with wandwood and a magical core and there it was. No ritual necessary. Magic did not come from on high; it came from something on earth, apparently. But what it was, Sparrow could not say.

Did it think? Did it watch? Did it disapprove? Wands thought, in their own way, and felt, if Cormac was to be believed. But they did not produce magic, only channeled it. There was such a thing as wandless magic. It was some force living outside the wand, perhaps outside the body as well, for there were more magical creatures in the world than Wizards. Yet who had thought to ask where it came from?

Sparrow thought back to her previous attempts with the library, and her confusion as to what subject area this question would be found in. She had given up upon hearing that the books of advanced theoretical magic were at the Ministry. Perhaps she had given up too easily. The act of asking a question could just as easily be recorded in the ancient history. Or in the modern history.

So, close to the end of the week, Sparrow spent an entire lunch hour in the library, cross-checking historical references to magical theory. And she hit a wall again. Not only had a formal effort of Magical Theory arisen recently, thus limiting the amount of time to ask the fundamental questions, it had always been done through the offices of the Department of Mysteries. There were, in fact, plenty of wizards who had been asking such questions. And they were all called Unspeakables, and forbidden to divulge their secrets to outsiders. It was the same wall she had run into as before, only, it extended into the History section as well. The Ministry, it seemed, wanted to limit the power of Wizards. It wanted them to do magic well, but only the magic that it divulged. The fundamental nature of their world, that was off-limits.

Phooey.

Sparrow sat at a table, put her head in her hands, and thought. What if there was no God but God, after all? And did he even care about anything anyone was doing? Dark Wizards tended to get away with their dark magic until the Aurors came, so it wasn’t as though there were demonic spirits, waiting to punish a wizard for hubris, nor angels on high seeking out evil to vanquish. There were creatures called demons, to be sure, and yet…they were all corporeal. Solid things.

There were spirits. Yet they, too, seemed to arise from earth, and be bound to it. Dementors, for all that they made people shudder, seemed to have no connection or reference to Hell. Ghosts made no reference to heaven. Caipora, well, they ran around jungles and bothered people, as poltergeists ran around castles and bothered people.

There was no cosmic scale, as far as she could tell. There was nobody trying to balance any scales. There was no force that would, by itself, attempt to right any wrongs. There was, it seemed, only the earth, and all the beings on it, magical and not.

Nobody was watching her.

So she could cheat after all. Using a spell such as Ventus, especially one powerful enough to sweep the clouds away, might have some magical effects that would interfere with the workings of the mandrake leaf, but. Perhaps there was someone who could sweep the clouds away for her.

She just had to get past Filch.

 

The light of the ghost of Argus Filch shone weakly in the upper corridor. Yet it was the only light on this night at all, for the rain came down, came down, came down.

“Come back to try again?” said Filch. “Came back to tell me I’m in your way?”

I could just as easily barge through you,” said Sparrow. “And lose as many house points as you care to take. I really don’t care about them anymore, I never did. I could have walked right through you at any time, do you know that? But I didn’t.”

“I could have raised the alarm when I saw you out of bed.”

“But you didn’t. Why was that?”

“Maybe I was having fun,” said Filch.

“You were challenging me,” said Sparrow. “The first time I ever managed to brew a shrinking potion was when I was thinking of getting past you. I’d never done an invisibility charm either. I’m glad you didn’t raise the alarm. It let me learn a bit more. And I think, in some small way, you respected my efforts.”

Filch grunted.

“I wanted to respect your authority,” said Sparrow. “Or perhaps I bowed to it. I didn’t even think of barging through you. Maybe if I had, you’d feel even worse than you did now. Maybe you’d feel powerless. That would have been very rude, for me to do.”

“Ghosts are cold,” said Filch. “Nobody wants to pass through them.”

“Well I’d like to get around you someday,” said Sparrow. “I do have important business for when the full moon comes back. I would like to be able to see Blaise again.”

“Blaise. Well. Hm. Ready for their story, then?”

“Ready for a lot of stories. For mine. For Blaise’s. For Jocasta’s. For Cormac’s. For Jill’s. I feel like a moonlit night at the Dragon tower is the perfect place. And…I’m inviting you, if you will come. Because I want to hear your story as well. Wizards don’t pay attention to house Elves, and they don’t pay attention to Goblins, and they didn’t pay attention to Giants, and they don’t pay attention to Squibs. I figured you might appreciate having a willing ear, for once.”

“Goblins,” said Filch. “Giants. House Elves. And Squibs, eh? Comparing me to them. Hmph. Well, I might turn up. I might not.” He sneered. “I could be really nasty, and prevent you from going at all. I could shout to the castle and say that the madgirl had finally snapped and was attacking portraits, or something. Heh. But if I did that, I’d lose Blaise as a friend.”

“Does that mean I can go?”

Filch gave her a penetrating stare. “You’re a Wizard, Jones. You can do what you want. You can always do what you want. And I can’t. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

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