Chapter 9
Astoria Greengrass never quite felt accepted anywhere. Her family had been toying with the Voldemort-affiliated sector of the magical world for years. Her few true friends seemed polarized towards this stance or the opposite. But on the other side, people doubted her, suspecting her solely because of her surname, except for Edmund Pevensie, who was starting to become another pariah in the Slytherin common room. All the students aligned with the Order of the Phoenix viewed her with skepticism.
Rumors had started circulating that she only attended Muggle Studies to keep an eye on the former auror Plummer, now turned professor. Meanwhile, the Slytherins had begun making jokes at the table, trying to pressure her into revealing her true intentions.
Truthfully, she was scared, so she remained silent or steered the conversation elsewhere. Astoria didn't want a war. Though, she was starting to realize it didn't matter whether she wanted it or not; it was coming. She was afraid of being caught in the middle, with no side willing to protect her, or worse, with both sides wishing her dead.
The Slytherin quarters were a green-toned hell, while outside, the world was cold. There was no rest, no refuge. She was starting to fear that Edmund would tire of her constantly clinging to him like a limpet. Pevensie made her feel protected. She was thankful every day that he had returned from Ilvermorny that year.
"Is it true what I've heard?" her sister Daphne asked one night in the common room.
Astoria lifted her gaze from her book and sat up on the sofa. Her sister's blonde strands escaped her tight bun, falling over her furious expression. She was angry.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb, As," she retorted. "You've re-enrolled in Muggle Studies. The whole school is talking. Do you realize what they might think of us?"
"It doesn't matter."
"No, it does now..." her sister said, sitting down next to her and lowering her tone. "It does matter, Astoria... The Dark Lord is back. It won't be long before he seeks control. What do you think will happen to you if you're friendly with Muggles' friends? What do you think will happen to us? You need to put your family ahead of your whims."
"It's just a subject."
"Don't be childish..." her sister said, growing increasingly furious but at a lower volume. "I've warned you; I'm not going to cover for you with dad this time."
"I didn't ask you to."
The girl tried to appear brave in front of her older sister, but her words had indeed increased her fear. She remembered a time when Daphne would joke about her studying the least chosen elective by Slytherins. She always thought that, in reality, her sister didn't mind that much. The ideas about blood purity didn't seem so ingrained in her. But years of friendship with people like Malfoy and Parkinson and the escalating tension in the atmosphere in recent courses had increasingly polarized her sister.
Astoria, not really knowing if she believed in God, had started praying to him, asking him to rescue her sister. She prayed for the blonde-braided girl she used to play with years ago in a backyard of their house in central London to still be there, and for her to find her. Not the haughty and admired Daphne Greengrass, but the sweet and loving Daph.
She prayed fervently. She needed her by her side. And yet, they were drifting further apart each day.
"Are you okay, Astoria?" Edmund asked one morning in Potions. "You've been very quiet these past few days."
"My sister wants me to drop Muggle Studies," she explained. "She's not too happy about it."
"Are you going to do it?" her friend asked.
"Never."
"That's my girl," Edmund said with a smile. "Let me know if you need anything."
"I will, Ed," she said, smiling softly. "Thanks."
"Now ruin that potion a bit," he said. "With your talent, if you're not careful, you'll end up in the Slug Club."
"Over my dead body," said the Slytherin, adding one more drop of dragon's tear than the potion required.
Hannah Abbott found Peter Pevensie sad lately. She didn't know him well, but she had always had a high regard for the student a year her senior who had saved her and Ernie from a McGonagall punishment.
Now he was in her year, and she couldn't help but think about how the boy had changed. Physically, the transformation was evident. His face was less rounded, he had grown several inches, and acne had left his face. He looked more mature, there was something in his gaze. He seemed more self-assured, yet, on the other hand, lonelier and sadder.
Hannah couldn't stand to see good people suffering. She needed to help. So, hours before their Herbology class, she hatched a plan with her best friend, Susan Bones, to corner the Gryffindor in Herbology. In recent classes, they were using greenhouse seven, which, due to its layout, forced Professor Sprout to divide the students into groups of three.
Peter often worked alone in the last row, sometimes accompanied by Hermione Granger, but she tended to sit more often with her two friends, Ron and Harry. Peter, barely knowing those in his year, sat by himself.
But Susan and Hannah wouldn't leave it to chance. As soon as the boy took his usual spot, the two Hufflepuffs positioned themselves on either side of him. The boy looked up, surprised.
"How's everything, Peter?" Hannah asked with a smile.
"Suddenly, very well surrounded," he said, trying to sound friendly.
"What a flatterer, Pevensie," said Susan. "But we want to know how you're really doing."
"I'm fine," he said, confused, scratching his head.
"That might fool your Gryffindor friends," said Hannah, "but it won't work with the Hufflepuff girls. You seem down."
"These are just odd days," he said. "Nothing to worry about, Hannah."
"Well, if you need us, we're here."
Clearly, the eldest Pevensie did not want to talk. Susan momentarily doubted whether Hannah's strategy had been too direct, but the truth is, accompanying Peter in classes they shared with the Gryffindors quickly became a habit. The boy didn't say anything, but he seemed happier for the company of the two friends.
"We're going to have a secret party this Saturday," Justin Finch-Fletchley informed them mid-week.
Susan and Hannah, without a second thought, invited Peter at the next opportunity they had. The boy tried to come up with some excuse, but the truth was he didn't have any good enough, so he ended up agreeing.
Hannah Abbott smiled, satisfied.
Mission accomplished.
Henry Davies despised fifth year. He had never been an outstanding student, but he wasn't a bad one either. However, he found it impossible to concentrate with so many assignments thrown at him all at once to prepare for the O.W.L.s. The words on the blackboard seemed to dance, distracting his attention to other things his mind deemed more important.
In this case, the girl in the second row. Susan Pevensie. With her dark hair, her light eyes, and her radiant smile. She was brilliant. She was spectacular.
The Transfiguration class failed to capture even a hint of his attention. His memory kept taking him back to the previous Saturday. The walk that started in the stands and lasted all day. The sun setting over the lake as they watched from atop the hill. Susan talking about her favorite books, making him, for once, feel like reading.
He touched the book he had borrowed from the library, recommended by the girl, with the palm of his hand. He had started reading it, with great effort, and truthfully, he understood the hype about it.
"The Neverending Story" the cover proclaimed in golden letters on the blue binding.
Ravenclaw Blue, Gryffindor Gold. Susan Pevensie, Henry Davies.
Henry let out a barely audible sigh.
His mind returned to the secret Susan had confided in him on the stands. Draco Malfoy. He hadn't hesitated for a second. He would accompany Susan wherever that sinister Slytherin wanted to take her. He wouldn't bother her anymore. Not if he could do anything to prevent it.
Helen Pevensie arrived at St. Mungo's that morning at the same time she did every day. However, even though nothing around her seemed particularly strange, she felt uneasy. And she did what she always did when she felt uneasy.
Frank slept peacefully in one of the two beds, but Helen could see that his roommate was awake. Curled up in her bed, with her arms around her legs and her head resting on her knees, Alice Longbottom watched the London sunrise seeping through the window in faded golden reflections. Today, she was smiling. When she smiled, she almost seemed like her old self.
"Hello, Alice," said Helen in a gentle voice.
The woman turned with her lost expression, and smiled in a gesture different from before. She didn't recognize her; she never did. But Helen recognized her. She knew that somewhere, the Alice she had known in school, her husband's best friend, was hiding.
"How are you?" Helen said, caressing her cheek as she sat beside her on the bed. "Did you sleep well?"
Despite not recognizing her, on days when she was calm, like today, Helen noticed that her friend sensed a certain familiarity in her that she didn't have with other nurses. It was as if, at least the subconscious of that woman, recognized her. Maybe it was just her gaze, her touch, her scent. But there was something in Helen that made Alice treat her differently.
The woman touched her hand as a response, as if asking her not to move it away from her cheek. Helen caressed her more. And the woman slightly closed her eyes.
"I see you're better today," said the Ravenclaw with a smile. "I'm glad to see it."
Alice opened her eyes, while with an extremely clumsy movement, she brought her index finger to the nurse's chest, as pointing to her heart, only to move it away again, losing her gaze in the window once more.
"I'm worried, Alice," said Helen. "I think the Dark Lord is after my children."
Alice didn't look at her, but her hand clumsily found Helen's and squeezed it slightly.
"If the others were here," said Helen, "Sirius has died, only Remus is left. Robert and I feel so alone, Alice. Mary has disappeared... if you were here, or James and Lily. I don't know if we're prepared for another war. I don't want my children to go through this. The Pevensies survived once... but I'm afraid we might not be so lucky this time."
Her friend continued to stare into the void, but without letting go of her hand entirely. Nothing about her expressed that she had processed anything Mrs. Pevensie said. They both remained silent as the sun rose higher over the buildings of the English capital.
Then, Alice's index finger began to move across Helen's palm. At first, slowly, but then faster and stronger. The nurse turned, puzzled.
"H," it seemed to write on her skin. Her name? Did Alice remember her name?
"H," she wrote with more force, finger against skin.
"Alice?" she asked. "What's happening?"
"H."
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
"H."
"Helen? Helen is my name... do you remember my name, Alice?"
"H."
The patient suddenly released her hand, without looking at her. Helen stayed there, trying to process her friend's insistent gesture. Alice, disheveled, looked again at her palm, but without touching it, and whispered a single word:
"Crux."