Chapter 2 - Quidditch
The first lesson the next day was Herbology, a class that Nikolai had been eagerly anticipating. Herbology was one of those rare classes taken with all the houses, and it was easily Nikolai’s favourite for several reasons; not only did it mean he got to be with all of his friends, but it also combined his love for botany with the fascinating world of magical plants. It was one of the few subjects where Nikolai felt completely in his element– often knowing more than his friends, including Hermione, and his sister. As they approached Greenhouse Three, the students were instructed to put on protective aprons and pick up earmuffs. Nikolai’s eyes lit up; he knew exactly what this meant– they were going to be studying Mandrakes. The thought of working with such a notorious magical plant filled him with excitement.
The students gathered around a long table lined with potted Mandrakes as Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse with her usual warm smile. "Good morning, everyone," she greeted.
"Good morning, Professor Sprout," the class echoed in unison.
"Welcome to Greenhouse Three, second-years. Now, gather around, everyone. Today, we are going to re-pot Mandrakes. Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?"
As usual, Hermione’s hand shot up, but before she could speak, Estelle gently held it down, giving Hermione a pleading look, silently asking her to let Nikolai have this one. Understanding the unspoken request, Hermione nodded and kept her hand down, allowing Nikolai to take the spotlight. Nikolai raised his hand, and Professor Sprout immediately called on him. "Yes, Mr. Wolfe?"
“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been petrified to their original state,” Nikolai answered confidently, “It’s also quite dangerous. The cry is fatal to anyone who hears it.”
Professor Sprout beamed, clearly pleased with his response. "Very good, Mr. Wolfe. Ten points to Slytherin."
Nikolai received a few pats on the back from his fellow Slytherins, proud of the recognition, though it hadn’t always been this way– when Nikolai had first shown interest in Herbology, some had teased him for liking what they considered a “girly” subject, but as he consistently earned points for Slytherin and proved his expertise, the teasing had quickly faded, replaced by respect. Looking back at the plant pot, Nikolai caught his sister’s proud grin, to which he responded with a smile.
Professor Sprout continued with the lesson, "Now, as our Mandrakes are still seedlings, their cries won’t kill you yet, but they could knock you out for several hours. That’s why I’ve given each of you a pair of earmuffs for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on right away?"
The class obediently followed her instructions, slipping on their earmuffs. Nikolai couldn't help but glance at Malfoy, who looked rather ridiculous with his fluffy earmuffs on, a sight that reminded Nikolai of an angry puppy– ears and all. Seeing the usually arrogant Slytherin looking so harmless made Nikolai stifle a laugh, his chest twinging with something satisfying. He quickly looked over at Estelle, who caught his eye, sharing the same look of amusement. They both smiled behind their earmuffs, a silent agreement that this was a sight they wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
Professor Sprout continued, “Flaps tight down, and watch me closely.” She then began to demonstrate the process of re-potting a Mandrake. “You grasp your Mandrake firmly and pull it sharply up out of the pot.”
As she yanked the Mandrake from its pot, the greenhouse was filled with its shrill, piercing scream, and despite the earmuffs, the sound was still intense enough to make everyone grimace and instinctively cover their ears. Professor Sprout, unfazed, continued, “And now, you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm.”
Just as she finished her demonstration, Neville, who had been standing beside Estelle, swayed for a moment before collapsing to the ground in a faint. Estelle immediately knelt down beside him, checking his pulse and breathing to ensure the boy was not dead. She was relieved to find both steady, but still, she couldn’t hide her concern.
“Longbottom’s been neglecting his earmuffs,” Professor Sprout remarked, her tone light but dismissive.
Estelle, feeling defensive of her friend and housemate, responded, “He’s only fainted, Professor.” There was an edge to her voice, a clear indication that she wasn’t going to just brush this off. Nikolai side-eyed her, an inkling of where this would be going.
Professor Sprout, however, was nonchalant. “Yes, well, just leave him there.”
Estelle felt a surge of frustration. The idea of simply leaving Neville on the floor didn’t sit right with her at all. “I think we should take him to the hospital wing, Professor,” she argued, her voice firm.
“There will be no need for that,” Professor Sprout replied, her tone final.
Estelle opened her mouth to argue again, her frustration bubbling over. But before she could say anything, she caught Nikolai’s eye. His look clearly said, “Please, don’t make this teacher hate me.” Reluctantly, Estelle bit back her retort, standing up and following the professor's instructions. But inside, she was still simmering, not at all pleased with how the situation had been handled. She looked up from where she was glaring at the plant pot in front of her to see Malfoy and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, laughing at her, and right as her jaw set and blood boiled even more, Nikolai tilted to Malfoy, mumbled something that made him shut up. While her rage towards Professor Sprout hadn’t yet settled, she found herself giving him a thankful smile, despite having no clue what he said.
“Right, on we go, plenty of pots to go around- grasp your Mandrake,” they each pulled a pot towards them and gripped onto the head of the Mandrake seedling, “and pull it up.” The room was filled with a storm of unholy screaming and screeching, even through the earmuffs Nikolai felt unsteady on his feet, holding his Mandrake high as he prepared the larger pot, digging out more space, knowing that it would go in easier if he did this. He shoved the Mandrake into the large hole and quickly pushed soil into the gaps around it, patting down on the top. He managed to see Estelle look from him back to her own pot, also creating a larger hole to put the Mandrake in. Watching his friends and classmates struggle, he was hard-pressed not to laugh while cringing greatly as well. He noticed Ron and Harry trying to stuff their Mandrakes into the holes in the dirt that were far too small, so he leant over, knowing he was too far away for them to hear him if he were to try to talk over the sound, and quickly pulled some soil out of the way in Ron’s pot, both of them now watching him. Ron easily crammed it in after that and Harry copied the movement before placating his Mandrake and getting it under the soil. They gave him a thumbs up in thanks and Nikolai’s eyes were drawn back to his sister who had been helping Hermione, though she seemed to know what she was doing anyway, but who was now observing the boy next to him with an amused face. He quickly turned to Malfoy who was wrestling to get his finger out from his Mandrake’s crying mouth. Mandrakes were known to have strong grips, that’s why they wore stronger gloves. Sighing inwardly, Nikolai reached over the top of his Mandrake and gripping the mouth at the corners pulled it open for Malfoy to wrench his finger out and quickly stuff his Mandrake into the pot in front of him. After doing so, Malfoy shook his hand, likely trying to relieve the pain and Nikolai took this as an invitation to pour more soil over the top of his Mandrake, finishing off the job. He didn’t expect a thank you, this was Malfoy after all, but neither did he expect the look he gave him. For a moment, and only a moment, Malfoy looked grateful, possibly curious, but then, as it always seemed to, it was substituted for a narrowed-eyed glare and a sneer. Nikolai ignored the secondary expression, and took it as a win, hearing the crying subside as the final students repotted their Mandrakes. Though most students had grimaces bored into their faces, Nikolai stayed smiling- he really did love Herbology.
Lunch couldn’t come fast enough, though, as their next lesson was History of Magic. The students had originally hoped that their ghostly Professor Binns had managed to somehow die in the afterlife, or at least gain a sense of humour, but alas, while he groaned on, each student tried not to fall asleep. When lunch did come around, Ron was busy wrapping tape around his broken wand, which had snapped during their crash into the "tree that punched back." With a look of utter defeat, he muttered, “Say it. I’m doomed.”
Harry, with a straight face, replied, “You’re doomed.”
That almost sent Estelle and Nikolai, who had decided to sit at the Gryffindor table for lunch, into fits of laughter. They exchanged amused glances, just barely managing to suppress their giggles. Just then, a small first-year student approached the table, his eyes wide with excitement. “Hi, Harry!” he exclaimed before quickly snapping a picture of him with a camera that had a bulb the size of a dinner plate and the flash of a flash-bang. “I’m Colin Creevey, I’m in Gryffindor too!”
Before anyone could respond, Colin’s gaze shifted to Nikolai and Estelle, his jaw dropping slightly. “Whoa,” he breathed, clearly awestruck as his eyes glistened with wonder, and snapped a picture of them as well before hurrying off.
The twins looked at each other, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. “What happened last year?” Nikolai asked, genuinely confused, thinking maybe he missed something.
Estelle shook her head, equally puzzled. “I have no idea. I mean, we didn’t exactly do much.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged knowing looks, struggling to keep straight faces.
“What?” Estelle asked, now even more curious.
“You don’t know?” Hermione asked, her tone incredulous.
“Don’t know what?” Nikolai asked, the twins' confusion deepening.
Their bewilderment only made Ron, Harry, and Hermione burst out laughing, unable to contain themselves any longer. The twins sat there, utterly clueless as to why their friends found this so amusing, but they couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all.
The twins didn’t have much time to puzzle over their friends’ laughter because Errol, the Weasley family’s clumsy old owl, suddenly swooped into the Great Hall. “Ron, isn’t that your owl?” Dean Thomas asked as Errol crash-landed into a bowl of crisps.
“Bloody bird’s a menace,” Ron muttered, pulling a red letter from Errol’s beak.
Nikolai, feeling sorry for the exhausted bird, gently picked Errol up and settled him in his lap while Estelle grabbed some peas from the table. She fed Errol until he had recovered enough to fly off again. The twins then turned their attention back to Ron, who was staring at the letter in his hand with a look of pure terror.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
“Look everyone, Weasley’s got himself a Howler,” Seamus teased, but Estelle shot him a glare so fierce that he immediately fell silent. However, the news had already spread across the Great Hall.
“Go on, Ron. I ignored one from my gran once. It was horrible,” Neville advised, his face full of sympathy.
With shaky hands, Ron reluctantly opened the Howler. Immediately, Mrs Weasley’s furious voice boomed out, echoing through the hall as the letter hovered in midair, mimicking the movements of a mouth. “RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!” Then, almost as an afterthought, the voice softened, “Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.”
The letter then shredded itself into pieces, leaving Ron looking absolutely terrified and Ginny overtly embarrassed.
“It’s alright, Ron,” Estelle leaned over the table, the first to comfort their friend, “don’t worry. They’ll forget about it soon.” It didn’t work quite as well as she was expecting since the Weasley twins, sitting just down the table, were laughing in hysterics, while Percy was looking at him in disappointed shock.
“Oh bloody hell.” He shook his head, diligently watching his plate. Harry patted him on the back apologetically.
“How about, er-” Estelle struggled to think of something to change the subject to, but then she remembered their Herbology class, “Hugo, what did you say to Malfoy in Herbology?” She didn’t have to elaborate further, she knew he understood what she meant.
“Oh, just that he was jealous that no one would stand up for him like you did for Neville.”
“Ha, nice.” She replied, genuinely proud of her brother.
“It certainly got him to be quiet.” Hermione added, noticing Estelle’s expression of pride.
“You don’t think-” Nikolai began, but quickly stopped talking, realising that the time possibly wasn’t the best for this particular thought.
“That us learning about Mandrakes was at all foreshadowing?” Estelle completed his thought, as she so often did, with her impulsive tendencies, “I was just thinking that.”
There was a silence between the five of them that lasted just a little too long so Estelle quickly thought of another conversation starter, something that wouldn’t lead them to some morbid idea. She decided to talk about her pet kitten Nugget.
****
After classes ended that day, it was time for the Quidditch tryouts, with Slytherin following Gryffindor. Naturally, Estelle and Nikolai were planning to try out, but as they met up to walk to the Quidditch pitch together, Estelle noticed something unusual– Nikolai was still in his school uniform.
“You can’t try out in that, Hugo,” she pointed out, watching the frustrated expression on his face.
“I’m not going to try out,” Nikolai replied, his voice tinged with anger.
Estelle was shocked. “Why not?”
Nikolai sighed, clearly agitated. “Draco went and bought his way onto the team. There’s no way he’s going to let me join. He told me so himself. And even if he did, I wouldn’t want to be on any team with him,” he ranted, his frustration spilling over.
Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to do something about it? I’ve been looking for a reason to introduce Dye-job to my fists.”
Nikolai couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. Estelle was always ready to defend him, and the thought of her taking on Malfoy was tempting. “Nah, it’s not worth it. Let him have his stupid team. I’ll find something better to do.”
Estelle nodded, respecting his decision but still seething on his behalf. “Well, if you change your mind, you know I’ve got your back.”
“Yeah, I know.”
They reached the Quidditch pitch and while Estelle was still simmering in anger for her brother, her excitement was plain on her face. She did, however, fall silent as they stepped into the field, finding a group of students wearing colours of maroon and gold. She forgot she would have to be not only good- great, but better than this many people. Trying out as a Chaser had its downsides; it was the most common position to try out for. Nikolai noticed her silence and turned her to him by her shoulders.
“Remember,” he spoke with determination and sincerity, “your agility is insane, you can fly circles around everyone here. Just duck and dive, do your sweet turns, and they’d be idiots not to take you.”
“Yeah- yes, yes.”
“Okay, fertig?” (Okay, ready?)
“Immer.” (Always) She grinned at him and he pulled her into a hug. She then ran off to the group.
“Scheiß auf sie!” (Fuck them up!) He called after her, gaining a few confused looks.
“Schau mir einfach zu!” (Just watch me!) She shouted back. Nikolai went to climb the steps to the stands where their friends sat, as Oliver Wood, the captain, walked straight over to her, noticing her from the end-of-year speech Dumbledore had given last year.
“I hope you’re as good as Dumbledore said you were.” He said, smiling in anticipation regardless.
“Oh, I’m better.” She grinned.
She proved her point. She caught every Quaffle, scored every shot, evaded every opponent and when she returned back to the ground, the members who were already from the team hit her on the back in congratulations.
“That’s brilliant, Stella.” George said, his position a shoe-in after he and Fred had to defend their Beater positions from a few new-comers.
“Probably the best we’ve seen for a while.” Fred smirked, punching her in the arm.
“I hope Wood sees it like that.” Through her blatant enthusiasm, she felt a bit nervous.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off your broom, Stella!” Harry appeared next to her, “You were amazing.”
“Thanks Harry.”
They all crowded around Wood who stood, buzzing in the anticipation of an even better team than last year, as he began to announce the team. Really, the only spot that was free was one of the Chaser positions since everyone knew that those on the team last year were good enough for this team. Wood went through all the names, each the same, and then, the last name,
“Our new Chaser, Estelle Wolfe!”
Estelle couldn’t believe it, well, she could believe it, but it was such a dream come true.
“Putain de merde!” She exclaimed, turning to Harry, who was clapping along with the rest of the students, “I got in! I got onto the team!” She hugged him and he laughed loudly. Looking up to the stands, she tried to find where her friends were but they had disappeared. Something in her heart fell and her smile dropped from her face- were they not watching? But before she could dwell on it much longer, someone barrelled into her from behind. She made a very ungracious noise as she turned on the ground to find Nikolai hugging the breath out of her.
“Du bist dabei!” (You got in!)
“Ich bin dabei!” (I got in!)
“Du bist DABEI!” (You got IN!)
“ICH BIN DABEI!” (I GOT IN!)
They managed to struggle up, her brother still holding tightly onto her, jumping around. Suddenly, Hermione and Ron joined their embrace, squeezing her even more.
“That was amazing, Stella!” Hermione said, while she didn’t know much about Quidditch, she knew how much it meant to Estelle, and Estelle appreciated the sentiment.
“You could go pro!” Ron exclaimed. They all peeled away and Estelle looked up to the sky dramatically.
“I could go pro…” She said it as though she had just realised something monumental. The three stood in silence around her.
“Maybe not yet.” Nikolai said amusedly, bringing her down to Earth.
She nodded, “yeah, maybe not yet.” They stood through another pause as the other students and team members all trailed out, letting the Slytherins walk in. Then Estelle grinned again, another bout of joy, “Ich bin dabei!” (I got in!)
Nikolai laughed at his sister’s excitement, saying, “You got in!”
Understanding now what she had said, Hermione and Ron, and Harry, who had stayed to congratulate his friend further, all broke out into grins.
“Alright you lot, clear off.” Their enthusiasm dissipated as the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, stood behind them, sneering.
“Yeah, Flint, we’re going.” Nikolai grumbled bluntly. Estelle knew the tone in which Nikolai spoke to be when he was biting down irritation, but instead of arguing with Flint, she simply stayed a few paces behind her friends and whispered to him.
“You made a mistake, Flint. Maybe you’ll see that next year.” She said his name like she had just ruined her new shoes in dog poop, turned, then left, catching up to her friends. But she noticed Nikolai standing back, looking at his house team as they flooded onto the pitch. His expression was one she hadn’t seen before, and that was saying something. It wasn’t quite longing.
“Whatcha looking at?” She followed his gaze to see one player in particular as he laughed rowdily with his friends.
“What? Nothing.” He snapped, turning quickly and running to Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
It was Adrian Pucey again, “Really, Hughie? Again?” She laughed loudly, sprinting to catch up with him.
“What?” He whined lightly, “Isn’t he good-looking?”
“I don’t know, men aren’t really my forte.”
“Damn you and your gayness.”
“You cannot talk, Mr-” she held her hands to her chin and made herself look just past Nikolai as she put on a dreamy voice, “‘oh Adrian, he’s so amazing and so hot and-’!”
“Oh shove off it!”
The Slytherin common room was far less sombre than usual when the Quidditch team got back after try-outs, though a lot of people had already gone to bed anyway. Nikolai sat with Millicent on the couch by the fireplace, unlit since it wasn’t quite cold enough, but they had pulled on extra jumpers. They were reading whatever books were left on the coffee table in front of them, they weren’t theirs but in the Slytherin common room, if you leave something unattended for long enough, it became free use. A group of students walked through the doorway and suddenly the ambient volume increased one-hundred decibels. Glancing over to the group, Nikolai scoffed as he saw Malfoy heading them, but they soon all split ways, leaving Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson to linger around the sofas in the middle of the room, but even they went different ways, where Pansy and the goons walked past Nikolai to go to the dormitories.
Millicent stretched and yawned out, “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Good night, Millie,” Nikolai said, still looking at his book.
“G’night, Kai.” She stood, dropping the book onto the table and walking towards the dormitories. The silence felt deafening, the lack of Millicent’s turning of pages and occasional mumbles made Nikolai feel on edge, especially with the sudden shortage of rowdy Slytherin students. It seemed eerily silent, so he surveyed the room to check he was alone. He wasn’t. He sighed internally, grit his teeth, and knowing he would currently prefer to sit with anyone’s company, walked over to the sofas in the middle of the room.
“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked incredulously from the armchair he liked so much.
“Sitting, Malfoy,” he fell into the sofa on Malfoy’s left, “don’t you have anything better to do than interrogate me?”
“I’d have thought me talking to you would be the highlight of your day.”
“Funnily enough, no, I don’t often like talking to someone who passes over people’s talents. I came over to read, now, will you let me? Or will I have to pay you?”
“Please, I saved you from years of embarrassment. You should be thanking me.”
“You should be thanking me. I should’ve let Lea kill you.”
After taking a second to recognise who he meant, Malfoy responded, “She couldn’t get anywhere near me.”
“I can’t wait to see Gryffindor thrash you in the next game.”
“You would support our opposing house, half-blood.”
“Yes, pureblood, when I was essentially banned from joining the team.” The name Nikolai threw back caused Malfoy to sneer at him, likely having never had his blood status used as an insult, but thankfully, he backed off. There was a moment of quiet as Nikolai focused back on his book, trying not to think about why he wasn’t leaving this interaction. It only took two seconds until his brain set off into questioning his own motives along with Malfoy’s as to why he hadn’t left yet, in fact, Malfoy had picked up the spinning top Nikolai had left after boredly making it the night before, seeming to settle in. It took about the same amount of time for him to decide to try to continue a normal conversation, though he wasn’t expecting anything good.
“So what position did you get?”
Malfoy looked at him in a moment of confusion. “Thought you wanted to read?”
Nikolai wasn’t sure why he had been expecting a constructive reply, so he settled on responding even less constructively. “No, I’d much rather be insulted.” Apparently Malfoy had thought that gracing that with a response was far too proper, and instead continued inspecting the item in his hands. He shouldn’t say anything, Nikolai knew that Malfoy had said awful things to people, he had stopped him from trying out for the Quidditch team; but he thought that maybe he could try something civil.
“You can spin that, you know.”
He held it loosely in his hand. “What?”
“Spin it. That’s what it’s for.”
“And how’d you know?” God forbid anyone knows anything he doesn’t.
“I made it. Here.” Nikolai reached over and took the spinning top, balancing it on the table between the armchair and the sofa. He twisted his fingers, spinning it quickly, leaving it to turn by itself. He glanced up to Malfoy, waiting for a short insult, perhaps about how it isn’t even, maybe the colour was distasteful, but he wasn’t expecting to see a thinly concealed look of astoundment.
“What spell is that?”
“It’s just wood,” a satisfying feeling settled in his chest at showing this boy who was brought up only with magic about the wonders of balance, “wood and physics.” At the mention of physics, anxiety flooded his chest, drowning the pleasant warmth. He had muggle Physics homework he was supposed to finish by the end of the week. There was no way he would finish it tonight, which meant that he should do some before breakfast the next morning, which meant he should probably go to bed now. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Malfoy replied absently, still leant over the arm of his chair, engulfed by the simple, wooden spinning top. Nikolai smiled lightly, before standing and making his way to the dormitories. He slept well that night.
****
Estelle was still buzzing with energy from the Quidditch tryouts the next day, bouncing along with Hermione, Harry and Ron towards their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, meeting with Nikolai, Blaise, and Millicent on the way. Despite her excitement, she was not looking forward to this class- though she loved Defence Against the Dark Arts, she knew that Gilderoy Lockhart as their teacher would simply make it strenuous, he was a narcissist and the twins doubted they would actually learn anything useful.
Once the seats were full of students, Lockhart entered the classroom with a dramatic flair that Estelle would usually appreciate, but something about this man just made her irrationally annoyed at every movement. This dislike only worsened when he began speaking in third person.
“Let me introduce you to your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher… me! Gilderoy Lockhart; Order of Merlin, third class. Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly’s: Most Charming Smile award.” Professor Lockhart boasted, standing beside a portrait of himself. Estelle was disgusted, in fact she was appalled. He surveyed the classroom where most of the girls and some of the boys were practically melting under his gaze with a proud look, his plastic smile never-failing.
“Trou du cul narcissique.” (Narcissistic asshole.) Estelle mumbled under her breath, hearing Nikolai chuckle to himself as he heard her. She turned towards Hermione with hope, but the girl’s eyes shone with admiration, and Estelle wasn’t sure why this caused a burning sensation crawl around her chest- she felt herself wanting Hermione to look at her and definitely not the lying hypocrite of a teacher in front of them. She struggled with the feeling, reasoning that Hermione was her best friend, and she knew that Hermione was far too smart to fall for the obvious lies of Gilderoy Lockhart. It simply annoyed her that Hermione didn’t see what she did.
The so-called ‘Professor’ continued to speak, much to Estelle’s irritation. “But I don’t like to talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him.” Estelle breathed deeply, her patience wearing thin. If he continued like this for much longer, she might end up walking out of the class. She tried to focus on something else, but as her eyes landed back on Lockhart’s head, she found that staring at his egregious haircut was no better. “Now be warned. It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind. You may find yourself facing your worst fear in this room.” Estelle thought that this man and this moment was her worst fear. “Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here.” His hand curled around a blanket that covered a small cage at the front of the room. “I must ask you not to scream, it might… provoke them!” With a swift moment, he flung the blanket off, revealing a cage full of Pixies. Estelle had read up on Pixies of course, and, yes, they were mischievous and annoying, but they were far from dangerous. That was all the confirmation she needed to know that this man had definitely not done what he had said he had done.
It seemed that Seamus was like-minded as he said “Cornish Pixies?”
Lockhart, who must have had some sort of parental issues, responded “Freshly caught Cornish Pixies.” Maybe he thought it was more impressive. Unfortunately, he continued, “Laugh all you will, Mr Finnigan, but Pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters. Let’s see what you make of them.” And he opened the cage. What an idiot! Estelle thought in disbelief. Pixies weren’t dangerous, she knew this, but they were troublemakers. She and Nikolai had learnt about them together the first time they ever saw them in person, somewhere they went camping when they were much younger. Recalling this, and having not read what Estelle had, Nikolai quickly moved under the table, pulling Blaise down with him and as Estelle moved to do the same, one of them came hurtling at Hermione. She dived to the side, the Pixie missing her by inches, and Estelle quickly helped her up.
“You okay?”
Hermione dusted off her robes, “Yeah, thanks.”
Lockhart’s voice grated against Estelle’s ears as he laughed. “Round them up, round them up! They’re only Pixies!” Estelle looked at him with wide eyes and a tilted head, unbelieving how daft he was; afterall, they were only second years and he hadn’t taught them anything about Pixies, yet. How were they supposed to know how to ‘round them up’? Just as she thought about saying something, she watched in frozen shock as Neville was lifted into the air by two Pixies, gripping onto his ears. They pulled him higher and higher as he screamed over everyone else’s shouts and noise, only to drop him, hooking his uniform onto the chandelier. Most of the class had the bright idea to flee the room, but Estelle couldn’t leave Neville.
“Will you give us the spell now?!” Nikolai shouted out from under the table, and finally, finally, Lockhart raised his wand.
“Pesky-pixie, pestinomi!” Before he could really finish the spell, though Estelle had an inkling it wasn’t a real spell anyway, a Pixie had swooped down and snatched his wand. Lockhart made an affronted noise, suddenly looking scared, and running up to his office.
“Where are you going?!” Blaise called out after him, getting up from under the table. Estelle turned to him quickly with a smile, not only surprised that he was still there, but also incredibly pleased he was almost as incredulous as she was.
“I’ll ask you six to just nip the rest of them back in their cage.” He said quickly, slamming the door shut behind him, locking it. Estelle scoffed in abject disbelief, laughing both in utter astonishment and at Nikolai’s shouted “coward!”.
“What do we do now?” Ron asked, wrestling with a Pixie over his snapped wand.
“There must be a charm or something for this!” Nikolai exclaimed, hitting a Pixie that had tried to grab hold of Blaise’s hood.
Hermione stopped swatting Pixies for a second, shouting to Estelle “Stella! Intermediate Charms 101!”
Estelle understood immediately, ignoring her friends’ confused looks. Hermione and Estelle had made a habit of going down to the Black Lake to read Intermediate and sometimes Advanced books to get ahead and often found themselves helping each other understand certain aspects and spells. She thought through all the spells she could remember that they had read in that book and, realising what Hermione was telling her to do, she turned to her brother.
“Cover me!” She shouted, to which Nikolai nodded, slightly unsure on how exactly he was supposed to ‘cover her’ with the incredible onslaught of little blue bodies, and began batting away more Pixies with the large book in his hands. Estelle stood up and took out her wand, “Immobulus!” All the Pixies in the room froze in mid-air. They heard a sigh from above them and turned to look at Neville.
“Why is it always me?”
Estelle chuckled in sympathy and said, “Come on, let’s get Neville down.” Levicorpus on the tip of her tongue.