Ecdysis

PART X - Reminder

Once, at nine or ten years of age, in a feeble attempt to be a good daughter, I offered to fetch Dad a glass of beer. Naively, I tipped the bottle head-first, and all at once, the beer came alive, spurting up like a foam fountain, spilling all over the counters and soiling my favourite fuzzy slippers for good. Five years later, I experienced a vivid display of déjà vu as my very first Healing Potion brimmed over the edge of the cauldron, drenching my beloved school shoes and making a mess of the lab I kept in pristine condition. No matter what I did—snuffed out the flame, cast a Stasis charm, begged it to please stop! it just kept spilling and spilling and spilling. Snape was going to kill me.

Thinking quickly, I enchanted the nearby mop to wipe the floors and Accio'd a second cauldron to hover beneath the first to catch the excess brew.

A lump lodged in the back of my throat. This was the first Friday Snape had given me lab privileges, and it had taken three hours to get the potion to this stage. Now it was ruined. All the cauldron polishing, jar labelling, ingredient weighing, Snape had made me deflower fifteen pounds of lavender, their sharp brittle stems callusing my fingertips, for nothing.

"Damn it!" I kicked the table, crumpled to the potion-stained floor, and allowed myself ten minutes to sulk before I cleaned up the rest of the mess.

Leaving the lab with three minutes to curfew, exhausted and vexed, I almost missed Daphne sneaking around the corner. She froze like a deer in headlights when she spotted me, cleared her throat, scuffed her shoe over the rough dungeon floor, before finally offering an awkward wave. "Hey."

Her robes were perfectly in order, as usual, her hair was smooth, perhaps a bit tousled but it was windy outside, and her cheeks were rosy like she'd run to make it back in time for curfew. But as she uttered the password, twenty-eight, and I stepped closer to her, I caught a whiff of something besides her usual shea butter moisturiser. An odd medley of sea water and smoke.

"What?" She shot me a defensive look, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Where have you been?" I inquired casually, following her into the common room.

"Just out for a walk. You?"

I averted my gaze. "Same."

Obviously, we were both lying. I had no reason to lie to Daphne about my extracurricular activities, but I was a firm believer in keeping people in the dark unless they absolutely needed to know something. Knowledge was power, and I preferred to keep my business to myself.

"Excited for Task One tomorrow?" she asked as we climbed the stairs to the dorms.

I shrugged. "Sure." Though I hadn't decided if I would attend. The Triwizard Tournament was getting on my nerves. The school was too crowded; it was becoming more difficult to lurk around on my own, and my library spot had been infested by twittering tweens. Besides, none of the champions sparked intrigue—Viktor was a pain in the arse, Fleur was vain and bitter, and Cedric was a Hufflepuff. Who cared?

"Oh, come on. Don't sound so bored." Daphne grinned, opening the door and letting me in first. "We're lucky it's happening while we're in school. You know the Triwizard Tournament hasn't been on for over a century."

Inside the circular room, Pansy sat cross-legged on her bed, a glossy magazine spread open on her green sheets. She wore tiny pyjamas, a black camisole and silky matching shorts. Her pale legs were smooth and slender, toenails painted gleaming black.

She made a snorting noise. "Fuck the Triwizard Tournament."

I couldn't help but agree.

As I walked past her, I glimpsed the pages of her Sorceress Sixteen magazine. One side flashing the image of a pretty witch donning a magical purse with a Crup poking its head from inside. The opposite page featured a quiz called Does Your Dream Wizard Fancy You? in big bold letters, popping hearts floating around it.