The Hearing
and the Verdict
Author: Albus Dumbledore
Date: 09-18-03 17:16
We all take seats in Courtroom 3, With Sorcha and myself facing the rest of the group. Amelia shuffles through some papers for a moment, then raps the table three times with the butt of her wand. The muted buzz of several conversations dies immediately.
Amelia speaks in a slightly gravelly voice. "Present at today's hearing are, from my left: Kingsley Shacklebolt, MLE, Auror; Lu Sim Sun, MLE, Regulations; Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden, representing the Wizengamot; Myself, Amelia Susan Bones, Head of MLE; Friday Knight, MLE, Records; Ram Badore, MLE, Enforcement, Alanna Smythe-Jones, MLE, Enforcement and Dierna ní Ciaran, MLE, Head Auror." I notice that Friday is frantically taking notes with a quick-quill.
Dierna raises her hand and is recognized by Amelia. "Madam Bones! I must request that I be recused from this panel, as I am one of the principals in this action and likely to be one of the witnesses."
"Request granted!" says Amelia. "You may step down." Dierna comes to sit beside me, with Christina on my other hand.
"Will the defendant please rise?" Amelia asks, looking down at us. Christina stands, facing the panel of judges. "Please state your full name and occupation."
In a rather quiet voice, Christina says, "I am Christina Sorcha, Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Amelia reads from her papers, "You are accused of kidnapping one Tennille Bastet-Jolie, and turning her over to the Dark Lord, an act which eventually resulted in her death. You are also accused of the kidnapping of one Dierna ní Ciaran, and turning her over to the Dark Lord. You are further accused of entering a Ministry office under false pretenses and removing secret documents from that office. Furthermore, you are accused of acting on the Dark Lord's behalf to threaten and intimidate the few remaining Giants into joining with his forces... How do you plead to these charges?"
Again, her voice somewhat subdued, Christina announces, "One-third guilty and two-thirds not guilty, to each and every charge!"
A murmur runs through the panel and Amelia raps her wand for silence. "Did I hear you correctly? Are you claiming to be only PARTIALLY responsible for these acts?"
"Yes Ma'am! That is my plea."
"Could you please explain yourself?" Amelia asks. "I am certain the panel would appreciate some enlightenment on this rather unusual claim."
"Well, it's like this... Ummm..." Christina turns to me with a frightened look.
I raise my hand and Amelia gives me the nod. "May I speak for this young lady?"
"Your name, sir? Occupation and relationship to the accused?" She smiles at me, as an old friend. "Just for the court records, if you please."
"My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the employer of the accused."
"Thank you," she replies. "Now, can you help explain this matter?"
"Hopefully, I can do exactly that!" I say, with a slight bow in Amelia's direction. "You see, there is a certain amount of BAD in the best of us, and there is a certain amount of GOOD in the worst. Under normal conditions, the balance of GOOD and BAD, determines our character... what kind of person we are. The stronger side of the personality will dominate the weaker." I pause and, conjuring a glass of water, take a sip to wet my dry throat.
"In the case of Professor Sorcha, normal conditions did not prevail. All her life, she has been a basically GOOD person. By my best estimate, approximately two-thirds good. In her case, the good far outweighed he bad. She lead a GOOD lifeÉ until almost two years ago. At that time, she was acted upon by an outside influence, which I am certain was Voldemort, himself." There is a sharp intake of breath at the mention of that name. However, I continueÉ "Using the "Personae Divisio" curse, or something of a similar nature, he was able to split Sorcha's mind into two parts, a GOOD part and a BAD part. For the past two years, she has been living under a condition of artificially induced schizophrenia. With that, it was a simple matter for the BAD part to gain control. Being completely isolated and separate, it could ride along, undetected, until it was time to do some specific job for the Dark Lord. At that point, the BAD Sorcha would 'trigger' a latent "Stupefy" spell on the GOOD Sorcha. In other words, the BAD Sorcha knew of and had limited control over the GOOD Sorcha, but the GOOD Sorcha had no idea that the BAD Sorcha even existed."
"I have known Christina Sorcha, professionally, for almost five years. I should have realized something was amiss quite some time ago. For the first three of those years, she was a 'normal' person, with 'normal' ups and downs. The Christina Sorcha of the past two years was always 'up'... she had no 'downs'. Had I not been preoccupied with other matters, I might have noticed and questioned this 'abnormal' behavior. Sadly, it was Christina, herself, who brought this problem to my attention. Several weeks ago, for whatever reason, Voldemort..." Again, there is a gasp from the panel at my mention of his name. "As I was saying, Voldemort allowed both parts of Christina Sorcha's mind to get back together. Suddenly, she was made aware of the things she had been doing. At first, she did not believe it, thinking these were bad dreams or something. Then, she found tangible evidence in the form of notes she had stolen from Dierna, that her worst nightmares were indeed true. It was at this point, that she came to me for help."
"After hearing her story and seeing her evidence, I did a bit of mind-probing. I am a registered Legilimens and, while it is somewhat irregular to enter another's mind, even with their permission, I felt it was necessary to do so without delay. As I suspected, Voldemort had left the trigger spell intact, thinking he might have future use of Christina. I found and removed that spell, and gave her a pair of Occlumency spells to help shield her from further attacks by the Dark Lord. At the same time, I arranged for a meeting with the Head Auror."
"Together, we heard Christina's tale, and together, we examined her memories of meetings with the Dark Lord and his minions. One thing I found highly suspicious was that she had no recollection of where those meetings took place, and could not give us any names of Death Eaters or Dark Wizards who were involved. If you will allow me a moment to prepare, I should like to present a little demonstration." Amelia gives me the nod to proceed.
I "Accio" a table to a spot in front of the panel. Fetching my small Gladstone bag, I remove my pensieve and place it on that table. The fluid, I have stored in a small golden flask. I empty the contents into the pensieve, and motion my 'client' forward. "Christina!" I order. "Think back to that first meeting with the Dark Lord. Think about who was there, what they said, and what they looked like." While she is concentrating, I touch the tip of my wand to her temple and extract the pertinent memories, placing them carefully in the rune-scribed bowl. The entire panel leans forward and stares into the pensieve.
The swirling silver gradually clears to reveal a darkened room, with only two single candles in wall-sconces for illumination. The image of a befuddled Tennille Bastet-Jolie stands out clearly. All the other figures are robed and hooded. From the head of the table comes a voice like shards of broken glass. "You have done well, Sorcha! Very well indeed for a first assignment. Now I have another task for you. Bring me Dierna ní Ciaran!" The voice breaks up into demented laughter. Christina looks up to see the hood fall back. The face of the Dark Lord is clearly illuminated by the wall candles, but it is impossible to see any recognizable features. The center of the picture is a complete blur, as if all the pigments had run and mixed together in a random fashion. The laughter eventually subsides and Voldemort speaks again. "Worm! Take Sorcha outside and escort her back to Hogsmeade!"
A whining, fawning voice says, "It will be my pleasure, Master!" Christina shudders at the slimy touch upon her arm. She turns to look, staring her guide straight in the face. But again, the features are totally obscured. However, several on the panel recognize the voice of Peter Pettigrew. Those who still think he was killed by Sirius Black are somewhat shocked to hear how alive and healthy he sounds.
Stepping out the front door of Voldemort's hideout is like walking into a large coal sack. Everything is black... totally black. There is no light, whatsoever. There is also no sound and no smell. The slimy hand again grasps her arm and they apparate to Hogsmeade. In the lights from the Hogsmeade Station, Christina can still see no facial features. The hands begin to paw at her and the whining voice starts to say something, but Christina shrugs them off and hurries back up the road to the Castle. Her 'guide' vanishes with a slight 'pop'.
The memory ends and the silvery sheen reappears in the pensieve. Several of the judges shudder at what they have just seen. I return Christina's memories, then turn to address the panel. "That is just one of Christina Sorcha's memories. There are several others, ALL equally vague and ALL similarly 'adjusted'. Who among you has the power to do such things to a human mind? For myself, I have never tried such a thing. Would you like to see more, or are you convinced that she remembers nothing of faces and places. The only name we have is that of Peter PettigrewÉ and we all know whom he serves."
There is a general negative response from the panel. I pause to let this sink in while I pack away the pensieve and the fluid. "Now, let me explain what we, Dierna and I, have done to protect Christina Sorcha from further mental meddling by the Dark Lord. Firstly, I have adjusted the balance between GOOD and BAD to an approximately 80:20 ratio. Secondly, we 'healed' the separation caused by Voldemort's machinations. I will spare you the details of these spells, as it took me almost a week to learn them. Dierna knows the source, and either of us can assist those of you who may be interested." I look along the panel but the only one who seems ready to accept my offer is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I dare say I will be giving 'private lessons' to all members of the Order, as soon as practical.
"So! What do we have now? I submit that we have here a young woman who has committed several grievous crimes. However, those crimes were committed under VERY special circumstances. In truth, only a part of her is guilty of those crimes. Now that she is whole again... that is, there are no longer TWO Sorchas residing in her head, there is no chance of her returning to the dark side. I submit that there is also no way we can punish the BAD part of this young lady without also punishing the good side. Her memories of her crimes have been left intact, as you have seen. She grieves that she somehow allowed 'herself' to do things which she knows were wrong, and wishes to make whatever amends she can. Truly, she has been rendered useless to the Dark Lord's cause. She begs the mercy of this court."
I take Christina by the hand and we return to our seats. The various judges are gathered around Amelia and there is much whispered discussion. After several minutes of this, the judges resume their seats and Amelia raps her wand on the table for order.
She stands to deliver the verdict. "We find the defendant guilty as charged!" Christina starts to sob, having visions of Azkaban running through her mind. I pass he another of my fine linen kerchiefs. Amelia continues... "However, IF she has truly been healed and IF she has been rendered useless to the Dark Lord, we see no need for punishing the 'whole' Christina Sorcha. We remand her to the custody of St. Mungo's for testing and evaluation for a period of one week. Assuming they agree with your evaluation, she will be freed without further jeopardy."
With these last words, Sorcha's sobs are stopped and she smiles through her tears. "Oh Thank you!" she cries. "Thank you all for your merciful decision."
I stand. "Thank you, Madam Bones. And thank you, judges, for your compassion. I would ask a further boon of this group. Would it be possible to delay her testing at St. Mungo's for a few weeks? You see, we have final examinations coming up and, wellÉ we are a bit short handed at Hogwarts at the moment. I would like Professor Sorcha to be allowed to administer her own examinations and grade her own students. I will take full responsibility for her in the meantime."
Amelia turns to her clerk. "Be it so noted in the records. Two weeks maximum delay in reporting to St. Mungo's." Three more raps of her wand and she announces, "This court of inquiry is closed!"
Christina stands and collapses against me with many hugs and "Thank-You's". Then she turns to hug Dierna. "Can you ever forgive me for what I have done to you?"
Dierna returns the hug and replies, "I think so! It may take some time, but I think so!"
Keen Eyesight
Author: Bellatrix Lestrange
Date: 09-18-03 18:33
There was a sudden flare of green flames in the empty fireplace and then a bundle of clothes appeared on the hearthrug. Shortly after this a darker shadow stepped out of the fire and arranged her robes, kicking the bundle further into the room.
"I am never going to use floo power again," hissed Bellatrix to herself, "it's so uncivilized!" She watched as the green flames died down to a flicker and then went out, plunging the room into half light. With a few words she levitated the bundle further into the room. She was still very weak and it would have been impossible to pick the body up and move it herself. It had been hard work as it was heaving the body into the fireplace. With another whispered word the body fell to the floor and she left it where it was.
Bellatrix turned to the fireplace, searching with her eyes. Had the Barret woman fallen for her plan? She crossed to the fireplace mantle and glanced at the ledge, pleased to see the card was gone. Even now she imagined Voleta holding the card and in fear seeing the sign of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix's lip curled in a sneer. Now to see if the rest of the plan had worked. Carefully she knelt before the fireplace, looking at the ground. Azkaban may have robbed her body of strength, but her mind and vision were still perfectly attuned. There, on the floor, was what she was searching for. A single hair.
Carefully Bellatrix picked up the hair, examining it. It was definitely human, but she wasn't sure who it belonged to. She placed the hair in a small bag and put it in her pocket. Now all she had to do was add this to the polyjuice potion and she had an instant disguise, one that could take her anywhere. As Bellatrix she wouldn't be able to enter St. Mungo's, but as a regular person she could. Nothing stood between her and a quick visit with her dear friends Frank and Alice Longbottom. It was time to check up on her handiwork – she wanted to admire their madness from up close and personal, and get a feel for their own private hell.
With a last look at the body of the man who had afforded her some short entertainment, she disapparated.
So Litte Time,
So Much to Do
Author: Mirai Schultz
Date: 09-18-03 19:08
She went to the library for some peace and quiet. And more so, so that she could concentrate on studying for the oncoming OWLs. She found an empty table on the far corner of the library, and she set down her books. First things first, she went to the shelves and looked for some reviewers on the subjects that she feels she needs a little help: Potions and Herbology. Seeing what she was looking for, she went back to her place to find Margaritte sitting on one of the chairs.
"Hey there, stranger," she spoke quietly, as she slid on her seat.
"Hey, Mirai," Margaritte answered. "I thought I'd find you here."
"Can't study in the common room, too, huh?" she said.
"You couldn't have summed it up more perfectly," Margaritte agreed. "Christa is already getting on my nerves. She keeps on panicking and asking, 'What does this potion do again?' or 'How do transfigure this into that?' or something close to that."
She nodded.
"I know how that feels," she muttered. "My sister would always bother me with her school work. I mean, she's still in Muggle school and I have to recall what I've learned before I came to Florecido!"
Margaritte giggled softly. "Well, anyway, we have to start studying or else we'd end up chatting here," Margaritte said.
"Yeah... so let's just get on with it," she agreed, and she flipped open the Potions OWLs reviewer and started reading.
Time for Action
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 09-18-03 23:26
If not for the customers in the store, Julian would have slammed the shop's door. As it is, he shuts it with a firm snap, walks straight to the office and once that door is closed, he hurls the box of sweets against the wall. He takes several calming breaths then exits the office, going over to the counter where Helena sits perched on a stool, flipping through today's edition of The Daily Prophet.
After giving Julian a cool appraisal and one very perfect arched eyebrow, Helena resumes her reading while Julian waits on the customers. Once the shop is empty, Helena asks without looking up from the paper, "I take it things did no go well. Did she give you a hard time about the house title or getting back with me?"
"No, she thanked me for the parchment and your name never came up, not even by implication."
Julian sits flops down on the stool beside Helena's. "She's pregnant."
The Daily Prophet promptly forgotten, Helena looks up, her pert mouth forming an O. "Bugger! So when's the blessed bundle of joy due, daddy dear?"
"She says it's not mine. We broke up about three and a half months ago and she says she's only three months along."
"And?"
"She didn't tell me but when I named someone she made no effort to deny it. Take a guess."
Helena pretends to pout. "Not even a little hint?"
Julian's eyes sparkle as he flashes an unexpected, and thoroughly mischievous grin. "Think red."
"No! Bill's? Just what we need around here. Another little flaming haired rodent running around."
"That's what I said!" Julian chuckles.
"So, dearest, why were you in such a bloody snit when you returned?"
"I'm not really sure. A combination of things I think. I thought she had better sense than to stoop to shagging Bill Weasley, even if on the rebound from me. Mostly though, I think because that should be my baby. After Chyler and her baby died and Lysander went to nurse his wounded heart, life seemed so bleak. When you came back into my world, it was like having the sun rise after the longest, darkest, dreariest night. For the split second before she told me the baby isn't mine, everything felt so complete. I would have done all that I could to ensure I got custody so that you and I, we could raise it right. To have the correct outlook on life, on a Wizard's place in the grand scheme versus a Muggle's. Even if I didn't get full custody, with Briar's true background, our way, Helena, would have been that child's destiny."
Her eyes thoughtful, Helena's mouth turns up in a wicked grin. "Why shouldn't that be the child's destiny even if you aren't the father? I'm certain the Burnshires would have wanted any grandchild of theirs to be raised the right way."
Julian leans over and kisses Helena. "You do know I love you for that brilliant mind of yours. I agree. It's time for Rosalyn Burnshire to return to the fold and give her child the upbringing it deserves."
Julian gives Helena another kiss then leaps up, full of energy. He nearly cackles as he adds, "What better way to inflict pain on Bill Weasley, the whole weasel lot in fact, than to take his child from him before its born and place it in Lord Voldemort's circle?"
Career Visit
-- Voleta: Homecoming Queen
Author: Nakshidil Aksoy
Date: 09-19-03 06:06
OOC: This is a collaborative post written by Voleta Barret and Nakshidil Aksoy
8:00 a.m.
Hefting an unwieldy box of Ministry pamphlets, Voleta lurched up the stone entrance steps of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes, not quite dodging between raindrops. Such a long while, she thought. Six years since I've been here. I've turned into Bill Weasley. She supposed she could forgive herself for not even thinking of tapping her box with an unburdening charm, but her first sight of the gates had driven away all other thoughts besides how nice it was to be back, even if it was just for the day.
At last she cleared the top step, only to glance at the handle with dismay. I'm sure I used to do this at least once a week, didn't I? The hands-full dance... step forward, lean back, lift the knee, balance the box, pull! The door wrenched open with a satisfying scrape, and her first glance into the entry hall took her breath away, just as it had thirteen years ago. It was even more beautiful than she had remembered. But then, came a wry reminder these days you spend most of your time in a musty office or wandering dingy muggle streets. Who could ask for anything more?
Taking a step inside, she put down the box long enough to pull off her cloak, shaking the rain off it and folding it neatly over an arm. The marble floors gleamed as she took up the literature again, her high heeled shoes clicking while she crossed the hall to the two women chatting. The woman chatting with Professor Minerva McGonagall was Madame Nakshidil Aksoy, her colleague for the day.
Madame Aksoy was new at the Ministry, recently the Deputy Director of the International Wizard Cooperation Department. Voleta had only met her once one of Minister Fudge's parties, but felt as if she had known her for years, from her two novels -- Voleta was a big fan of the damask rose. Luckily for Voleta, Nakshidil did not have her bird on her wrist. It was a garuda from India. A very beautiful bird, and one she had learned about in Care of Magical Creatures class. But pretty or not, to Voleta, the bird was the enemy. She was allergic to anything that had feathers, and had had to decline Nakshidil's offer of riding it to Hogwarts. Opting for the traditional Disaparation and walking to the castle was Voleta's choice, but her coworker preferred flight.
"Hi, Professor. Nakshidil!" Voleta was a bit breathless as she addressed each woman; the box was already getting heavy again.
"Voleta! It is nice to see you, again!" Professor McGonagall gave Voleta one of her rare smiles, and tried to give her a hug to go with it, but the box prevented it. "It's nice to be back, Professor," Voleta grinned at her. Now it was Nakshildil's turn to greet her, "How nice to see you again, Voleta. And outside the office, too! I hope the trip wasn't too much."
Voleta laughed, "Naw, I just Apparated outside the gates, and then had a short walk up the drive. Although, this box is getting really heavy. Can we get going?" She shifted the box in her arms, and put on a pleading face.
Professor McGonagall took the hint, "Of course, we'll stop by my office, and you can leave the brochures there until you need them." She turned on her heel and led the way down one of the halls. "Follow me, please" she motioned to them. The two older women stayed quiet walking down the hall, which upset Voleta a bit. She always remembered the halls as full of ordered chaos when she had lived here; she wanted to fill it up this test-week silence with a little noise, so she turned to the brightly clad woman walking beside her. "So, Nakshildil... where did Mehmed go?"
"Oh, he's out on the lawn, enjoying the large spaces," replied Nakshidil, accent filtering though her words. "Birds need room. At least that one does, or he'll complain."
"Here we are," Professor McGonagall opened the door to her office. Once inside, Voleta plopped her box on the nearest chair, which gave a shake as if it was a dog. "Oh, Voleta, dear. That isn't a chair. One of the students was trying to do some extra credit, I still haven't gotten it back to its original form." Voleta instantly picked up the box. The floor would have to do -- she didn't want the chair eating her homework first thing in the morning. That excuse hadn't worked as a student; she doubted it would be accepted from a visitor. "Have a seat, ladies. Let me just clean up my desk." The Professor started shuffling papers around, slyly revealing copies of Nakshidil's two novels and her latest theoretical work. "Oh, dear, where did those come from?"
Nakshidil murmured a chuckling thanks for the compliment. As she spoke, she withdrew a kaleidoscopic quill from an inside pocket in the vicinity of her outer coat. "If you would be so kind," she said to the quill. "On the desk?" With an obedient flourish, the quill seemed to bow to both Voleta and the Professor before applying itself to the three volumes. Professor McGonagall blushed, and Voleta, after a startled glance, giggled.
"So, back to business," Minerva sighed, bemused, as the quill finished and bowed once again to the women. "I thought that we could stop in at Ravenclaw house for awhile first thing." The Professor turned to Voleta. "I know that Voleta would love to see the Tower again."
Voleta nodded her head vigorously. "I really want to see the seventh years -- see how much they've grown since I last saw them. They were only first years when I was Head Girl."
"Exactly," smiled McGonagall. "I know you've brought the best of news for Cho Chang, Madame Askoy, and I am sure that there are others that would like to meet with you, Voleta. Professor Flitwick should be coming soon to escort you two up there so you can meet with a few. Then I think we'll have you make base in the Great Hall." As soon as these words escaped her mouth, there was a knock at the door, and in came Professor Flitwick.
In his squeaky voice he greeted Voleta, "Miss Barret! 'Tis so nice to see you again! And you must be Madame Askoy. So nice to meet you." He shook her hand, petite as Nakshidil was, her hand swallowed his. "Shall we go up?"
They followed him up a series of stairs until they reached the Ravenclaw house. To Voleta, it felt like she was finally back home.
Career Visit:
Nakshidil - All This, and a Floor Show Too
Author: Nakshidil Aksoy
Date: 09-19-03 07:12
"Cho! CHO!! Come on, they're here! She's here! Hurry, slowpoke; you need to make a good impre-" WHUMP! Books and quills went flying as a chair cushion sailed out the Common Room door and connected with Sykra Sawyer's sternum, sending the startled Ravenclaw onto her rump. Her answering growl was clearly audible as she scrambled to her feet. "Did you see that, Barret?" Sykra cut an indignant glance over to the gaggle of adults looking on. "I know *I* was never that cheeky as a first year."
Voleta struggled to keep a straight face. "Sawyer," she said, "you were in a league of your own. Or have you forgotten the soup incident?"
"The soup inci...?" Sykra's brows disappeared into her hairline. She colored and turned quickly toward the common room, cushion in hand. "I'll just go get Chang, right?" Her little hop over the lip of the doorway overshot the mark and she disappeared from view with another thump. "Aw, nuts to all of you," floated up her voice, protesting a spate of giggles. "Go to class, you delinquents."
In the corridor outside Ravenclaw Common Room, Professor Flitwick turned to wink at Voleta and Nakshidil. "Ever the serious-minded scholars," he quipped. "Miss Sawyer bumps that noggin of hers at least thrice a day, but she's a pleasure otherwise."
Voleta laughed, watching the doorway. "She's so tall now," she marveled. "Sykra was about as big as my pinky when I knew her."
"And you weren't much bigger than mine when *you* arrived," chuckled Flitwick.
"What is the soup incident?" asked Nakshidil from her seat on an open windowsill. "That had an interesting effect."
But Voleta only shook her head. "I can't discuss it -- I'd be breaking the Code." At Nakshidil's questioning look, she explained the venerable schoolgirl code: keep House business inside the house, even as an alumnus.
"Okay, Okay, what's the big fuss, Sawyer? I'm trying to get dressed."
"That'll be Miss Chang now," commented the Professor. All three adults watched the door expectantly, but the girls didn't appear.
"Cho!" came Sykra's protest. "Augh! Don't you get it? They're here!"
Her tone dropped, low and conspiratorial, and the adults heard no more than excited whispering until Cho Chang suddenly peeked through the doorway. With twenty minutes to go before class, the harried Head Girl was still in her robe; a sparkling toothbrush circled her head slowly. "EEEP!" she squealed, hiding her eyes in embarrassment. "Uh... hi, Barret."
"Hi, Chang," sang out Voleta cheerily.
"Go on! Go on, they're here to see you, stupid," urged Sykra, suddenly reappearing in the doorway. "She's already seen you in your robe, go out and talk to them." At Cho's hesitation, the girl sighed and pulled her friend bodily out into the Hallway.
"You.... you're.... Shre... Sher..." gulped Cho, staring at Nakshidil. She was clutching a scroll of class notes in her hands, which kept twisting in time to the words she couldn't seem to get out.
Nakshidil gave Cho an appraising, but friendly glance. She was a very pretty girl, maybe a shade taller than herself, hair straight and black, something of a smart pertness to her carriage. Contrary to the girl's obvious discomfort, it was a good first impression. She smiled, "Madame Aksoy might be easier for the moment."
"Madame Aksoy," repeated Cho, nearly breathless. "Fr- from the..." Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized what it meant: Madame Askoy come all the way up to Ravenclaw Tower to speak to her -- Professor Flitwick looking as pleased and proud as she had seen him -- Voleta Barret standing a little apart, watching the scene with avid amusement. "Does.... does this mean...?" Suddenly the scroll slipped from Cho's fingers and her eyes were everywhere except on Nakshidil.
She came to rest on Sykra again, almost pleading Sykra to do the asking. It was something Sykra was only too happy to do for her best friend, and she turned her own hopeful face to Madame Aksoy.
Nakshidil nodded.
Sykra looked back to Cho. The two stared at one another for a few breaths before she nodded. Abruptly the hall exploded into a riot of squealing and jumping up and down and hugging. "You got it!! You got it!!" A tangle of faces appeared at the doorway. "Who got what?" demanded a 6th Year, emerging from the doorway with her satchel.
"Miss Chang was awarded the Ministry internship for the summer," offered Flitwick.
The girl looked impressed. "Good on you, Chang!"
Finally Cho found her tongue. "Thanks, thanks!" she breathed. Her eyes sought out Nakshidil. "Thank you! Thank you so much, I just can't... I can't tell you..."
"There's no need to, Miss Chang," said Nakshidil with a smile. "I can see you're pleased; it means we'll have a good summer."
Disentangling herself from Syrka, Cho came forward at Nakshidil's beckoning. "I'm just surprised, that's all. You know, I didn't think I'd hear anything about it until after exams."
"You were the strongest candidate," replied Nakshidil. "Even without your NEWT results, that was clear. You'll still need to apply yourself on your exams to get your first choice in placement, but the internship is yours."
"Well," interrupted Professor Flitwick with a gentle clearing of his throat. "Miss Chang, I think you can safely take another moment to chat with Madame Askoy, but as for the rest of you lot..." he looked at the gathering students. "And as for me, classes still await. You'll have plenty of time to get the happy details later."
The other students began drifting down the hallway, most favoring their Head Girl and Seeker Champion with congratulatory grins.
Cho barely noticed; at the window her attention was taken up by Nakshidil's further good news that a living stipend and housing had been arranged for Cho during the summer. Nakshidil was pleased with Cho's eager and savvy questions, and was preparing to release the girl to finish getting ready for class when a series of screeches and roars from outside startled everyone in the hallway.
Most of the students dashed back up the corridor to form a crowd at the window around Cho and the Ministry women. The scene out on the lawn far below was surreal: Hagrid's hut seemed to have sprouted a blue-feathered weathervane the size of a bus. This addition was currently rearing back and flapping its massive, shimmering wings with obvious indignation, protesting angrily against the fist-shaking and cursing of the CoMC teacher, the frenzied barking and scrabbling of Fang, and the badly-aimed shower of assorted fruits and pebbles from a scatter of students with the best of intentions. Added to the racket from below came a guttoral stream of foreign cussing from dainty Madame Askoy, a tirade which rose in volume until she threw up her hands.
"Miss Chang," she said, with a cheerfulness that left Voleta and Cho dizzy. "It has been a pleasure to meet you; do excuse the interruption." She broke free from the crowd to cross the hallway and take up her satchel. Scowling, she crossed again to cast another angry glance out the window. "If it's not something, it's something else," she muttered.
Without warning, she scrambed up onto the sill. And she jumped.
