The Spell
When you walked out the door, when the click of the latch smashed into my mind, when the slight stir of dust drifted across the sliver of light coming through the window, when I heard the door of the carriage slam and the horse bellow with a snarl, when the air around me became full of gardenias, when my feet froze to the spot of the soft,blue rug, I knew, right then and there, that I was released from the spell.
The Spell 2
I can remember the first time we met. Year one, second week at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had said that the Forest was out of bounds and parts of the third floor, too. My new friends in the Gryf house were talking about the Forest. They said that no one had ventured there in the first year --that is, that they knew of. I said I'd give it a try. Of course, they laughed, but I didn't. I tried. I met up with you by accident (that's what I thought) in a dark thicket just past Hagrid's place. It was covered with vines that came up around the trunks of trees, ran up to the branches, then dropped back like twisting tentacles almost to the ground, which was covered by a loam that made footsteps impossible to hear. But, I could hear your breathing. Soft, and even, a panther in waiting. You almost killed me then, and that was your first try.
The Spell 3
I was worried, then, for I did not know who or what you were. Not that I hadn’t been in forests before. But, those were Muggle forests with easy shadows and soft light. This forest was the same, yet radically different. Dark, dark shadows and only wisps of light that scattered at the tops of the trees. For all I could imagine, there in the hidden brush of darkness, you were a werewolf or worse, You Know Who, whom I actually knew little about. I was already well into the thicket with the vines beginning to twist around me. It was as though they were snakes, slowly creeping up my leg to stop, hold, then strangle me. I could hear your breathing increase as the vines inched their way up my right leg, pinning it to the spot. I pulled against them, but it was no use. I had to do something and fast. These vines were clearly not ordinary vines. They had little fingers that attached to my pants the way ivy clings by etching tiny legs into a wall’s surface. “Not good,” I said to myself.
The Spell 4
I could feel the vines tightening around my right leg; my toes started to become numb. “Gotta think my way out of this. Why would the breathing I hear increase as the vines became serpents sliding up my leg, wrapping around it and squeezing, reaching out to bind my left leg to the other?” came a jolting question and realization to my mind. “Must be a witch or wizard doing this – putting a spell on the vines. Whoever it is, is using a lot of energy, though the evenness of the deep breaths shows practice.” I was able to reach my grab bag that I hid behind my back, low down near my belt. Retrieved my infra red glasses. Put them on. And, in the green glow that came through the glasses, they illuminated you, hiding behind a thick oak tree truck. Of course, you couldn’t see me that well at all, for you did not have night vision glasses that I did. Thank goodness for my Muggle life and upbringing and its technology. With my right hand I drew my wand, the one in which I had installed the luminos laser. (Again, my Muggle background comes through.) With a quick blast, “Inferno!” I lasered the vines and fell backwards into some covering brush. I rolled quickly, not too soon, for your “Ravage” command shot and blew the bushes back fifteen feet from where I had been. But, I was ready. It was my turn.
The Spell 5
“Close,” I thought to myself. “But, I can see you and you can’t see me.” I returned the Ravage command and watched you fly backwards a good ten feet to hit the ground with a resounding thud. With a second command, I snatched the wand from your hand. Now, I had two wands. And I was going to find out whether you were good, bad, or ugly. (As it turned out, you were all but the last.) I ran towards you, stopping right at the end of your legs, which were covered with bits of leaves, twigs, and dirt from your hard landing on the ground. Then, I noticed the Hogwarts uniform under the forest camo robe, a collar sticking out from under the side of the hood that covered your face –looked like a Ravenclaw color though I couldn’t be sure, what with the darkness. “Another student, just like me, trying to prove his courage. Can’t wait to get back and tell the others that I bested someone from another house.” I was feeling pretty impressed with myself.
The Spell 6
Until, that is, the ground whisked away from under my feet. Or was it the other way around. Didn’t matter. The whip that you used wrapped around my ankles, and when you gave a quick pull, I went down like a bag of potatoes. Lost your wand in the fall, but held onto mine. You rolled quickly to your left, called for your wand, which went to you in a flash, called a slight “Luminos” command to get a look at me, loosened your whip around my ankles with a fast twist, gave it another fling and wrapped the end around my right hand that held my wand. There was magic power in the whip, for it pulled me down towards you without your expending any effort, while it controlled my hand so that I couldn’t point my wand.
The Spell 7
“Uh, wait, I’m a student, too,” I exclaimed trying to wrestle the whip away from my hand; the whip felt as heavy and powerful as an elephant trunk. The black snake of a thing wrestled me to the ground, forcing my arm behind my back so that my head was face down in the dirt. I was eating the wet leaves, trying to catch my breath. The taste of the forest floor was of rust and old tea leaves. But, I had a trick up my sleeve, literally. It was a spray solution of some slippery goo from the world of Muggles. I wriggled it down to my left hand, squirted the whip and got my right hand free. Sill had my wand held firmly and pointed it right at your face, that is, as much of it that I could see from under your hood. The tip of your chin to be exact.
“Ok, one more move, one slip the wrong way, and you will have pus blisters over your face for a week. Think of what you will look like to the rest of your friends.” I started to ease the edge of your hood up with the tip of my wand. But, I stopped when I felt the tip of yours against my chin. “Oops!” I thought to myself.
The Spell 8
“Pus blisters are chocolate tidbits compared to what you’ll get, buster,” came the soft reply of your voice, though it was more like a cat’s purr –the purr of a panther about to devour its prey.
Though I knew that it was a stupid thing to do, I eased up your hood so that I could get a closer look at you. And, you did the same, though it was to maneuver of your wand to get a closer look at the large glasses that covered my eyes. What I saw of you, half of your face (the other half was hidden by part of your hood), took my breath away. Ok, I was only a first year a no nothing when it came to girls, but I could see real beauty and a sensitivity that was radiant. Raven black hair sliding around the bottom of your chin as a silk scarf slides easily over pale velvet skin. Deep blue, almost purple eyes, surrounded by a dark mask that made them glow like purple lightning flashes against the bruise darkness of a thunderstorm. Not a hint of fear in those eyes whose gaze bore holes through my glasses. A straight nose flipped at the tip, and lips that curved up into a natural smile, with the glimmer of ivory white teeth behind them. A scattering of very light freckles that I could see with my night glasses as a sprinkle of dried dew drops across the tops of your cheeks.
Then I saw the collar color. A Ravenclaw.
The Spell 9
Well, we just froze in that position for what seemed like an eternity. That is, until you popped me in the side of the head with your right elbow. I returned the favor and kneed you in the stomach. You rolled to the left and I rolled to the right. We propped ourselves up immediately, wands facing each other.
“Ok, what now?” you murmured, with a bit of shortness of breath. I must have knocked the wind out of you. “Ravenclaw, huh? First year, too. What are you doing out here, girl?”
“Gryffindor, huh? First year, too. What are you doing out here boy?”
Your hood slipped all the way off your head, and I could see a long thin scar running along the far side of your left cheek. When the hood fell off, your hair cascaded down like slow motion ribbons of silk, down to the tops of your shoulders where it seemed to move on its own.
I propped myself up a bit farter. I could only hope that my eyes were not popping through my glasses showing how wide open they were with astonishment. I couldn’t believe this. A first year girl, beautiful, out here alone in the forest. What the heck was going on? And she was certainly no push over. That she had taken me by surprise was an understatement.
The Spell 10
Let me explain. I take pride in knowing a lot about the way Muggles fight, having been from a purely Muggle background. Matter of fact, I’d been in more than my fair share of fights. I used to get beaten badly, but the more I took on, the better I got –stronger, quicker, and a lot wiser. Wiser because I got some training in martial arts on the side from an Asian friend who ran a grocery store close to my father’s workplace. Just before I went to Hogwarts, I took on two bullies at the public school I went to and graduated from. They had picked on a smaller guy –they, er, well, peed in his gym shoes and made him wear them all through gym class. Then afterwards, they pushed him around the locker room and finally put him head first into a toilet. No one else would do anything. They just watched or worse, acted like nothing was going on. Except me. I told them to quit. They laughed. I told them to leave the guy alone and never touch him again or there’d be trouble. They came after me without hesitation. But, I was ready. Put simply, I was a conditioned dirty street fighter and knew pretty much that they would be going for me. First one to reach me, no neck meat wad, got it in the privates and went down in a clutched up ball. Second one, big fat hairy brute with a round head, took a swing, which I ducked and clocked him in the ear with the flat of my hand. He went down in a twisted mass, moaning, eyes sweeping from side to side. Then, he puked all over himself and the other guy’s foot. “Anytime you mess with Geeky here, or me, you’ll get the same, maybe worse,” I said to them leaning down and grabbing each one’s right arm to make sure they could understand me. The first one did and nodded. The second one, I was not so sure of. He was still rolling and puking. I figured his ear would straighten out in an hour or so, unless I had broken his eardrum. Don’t think I did.. No blood. But, it worried me. Ear shots are dangerous. I should have used something else. Reflex fighting I guess. Put in a nutshell, I am a mean fighter.
Anyway, back to you and your wand, which was still pointing at me.
The Spell 11
I answered your question. “Well, I’m out here looking for you. Isn’t that obvious?” I had to throw out something bizarre to confuse you and give me time to think. I wiped some of the bits of leaves off my face, and spat out the tip of a small twig that had settled in the corner of my mouth.
“Right. Sure. Just as I was looking for you. Wise guy, huh? But, not a bad fighter. Where’d you learn that stuff?” you said and eased up in a sitting position. That’s when I noticed your shoulders. Not regular girl shoulders. Nope. Swimmer’s shoulders with ballerina thinness. Powerful, yet perfect.
The Spell 12
I must have not responded soon enough. You took up a small cone dropped from a fir tree and threw it at me. I bounced off my shoulder and I snapped back to reality.
“Me? Wise guy? Nah, no one smart would be caught dead on out here in the forest. So, I couldn’t be wise. But, as for you. You look just stupid enough of a Ravenclaw to think that you could win a bet or something by going out alone into the forest.” I gave a little smirk that twisted my glasses a bit. Your scar seemed brighter in the glow of the night glasses.
The Spell 13
What happened next threw me a curve. Your whip had literally crept up along side my legs without my noticing anything going on. In one flash of movement, it looped its slender end twice around my feet, threw another loop way up over a large branch that was over me, fastened to the limb as a bat would hang onto a rafter, and lifted me feet first off the ground. Not fast enough, though, to keep my head from getting a good thump as I turned upside down. Up I went to hang a few feet off the ground, swirling dirt and leaves rained down from my shoes. And there I swung, like fresh meat at a market while the whip twisted me around so that I couldn’t get an eye on you. “Blast! She’s good,” I said to myself.
However, been there, done that. Used to get tied up and hung upside down on the workout bars by the upperclassmen at the Muggle school all the time. Put the wand in my mouth, flipped over and climbed up the whip overhand to the branch before you could even blink. You stood there dumbfounded. My turn again. Put a Closure spell on the whip where it went around the branch, then sent it back down to your hand. Called for the whip to become taut and lo and behold it raised you up, one armed at first –you grabbed the whip with the other hand halfway after putting your wand in your mouth—to dangle right under me. You looked up at me with those big purple blue eyes. Oh, man, those eyes. They gutted my love bank. It was then, that very moment, that I knew that I was dead meat. You know what I mean.
The Spell 14
I slipped down the whip to hang on beside you, then called on the whip to lower us to the ground. When we got there we both had our wands in our mouths. Your whip realized its true master and coiled under your left sleeve. We both knew that we should leave our wands where they were for the moment. I backed away a step and gave a hands up, “I give up sign.” I slowly, point down, took my wand from my mouth and put it in its holder on my belt. You did the same, only yours disappeared up your right sleeve.
“Before I say anything more, take off your glasses-do-thingy –whatever that Muggle gadget is—and let me see your eyes,” you said in a garbled voice, for you were a bit disheveled and lightheaded by being snatched up by your own whip and hung by both hands.
“Ok, but no funny business. I can’t see as well as you in this darkness. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
I took off the glasses and held them in my left hand, my right hand edging around my right side where my wand was. About all I could see of you now was your shape and somehow your blue purple eyes. They were boring into mine with a glow of their own.
Your voice was a whisper of morning wind in the tops of the tress –soothing, gentle and pure. “Not bad looking at all for someone with a pure Muggle heritage. Not bad at all. Though your nose is crooked.” You came closer, only a step away. A distinct smell of gardenias caressed my nose. “Got a dent here and here. Just a tad bent to the right, too.” You reached up with your left hand and touched my nose, right in the places that were broken in a couple of bad fights. That touch may have had magic in it, but I doubt it. But, it may as well have had the whole store of Snape’s potions for enchantment in it. The slight impress of your hand was soft as velvet, and meant to be kind. It was the loving pass of someone who was kind to animals, I could tell. The effect was to make by knees turn to rubber. I had to pinch my right thigh just to keep from swooning over backwards. Worse, I was starting to sweat under your gaze, and especially your touch. My left eye was a salty burn from an errant drop that had crept into it from the corner of my eyebrow. You wee too close for comfort. I had been close to girls before, but never anyone like you. Never, not in the least bit.
The spell 15
“Er, yeh. Got those in a fight or two back with some Muggles. Didn’t want Mom or Dad to know about the fights, so I kinda set my nose myself and when they asked about the swelling and bruises, told them that I had fallen through some branches while climbing a tree. Well, I had in fact fallen while climbing, but that didn’t break my nose. They just assumed that the fall had caused the broken nose.”
“So, devious deception is the name of your game, right?” came your reply. The purple blue eyes flashed.
“I just let people draw their own conclusions about my actions. What do you think I should have done? Tell them that I beat the daylights out of a guy who made fun of a girl and pushed her onto the ground because she couldn’t walk straight due to an illness she had from birth?” You gave me a squinted look and cocked your head to the right. “Well, maybe I should have told them the truth. But, I banged the guy up pretty well and I didn’t want them to get wind of it. Anyway, he had it coming.” I had to turn the coin around quickly.
“So, you tell me. How did you get the scar? Bad hair day and missed with the scissors?”
“Uh oh,” I said to myself. I knew the minute I spoken the words, I had peed on my own feet.
The Spell 16
Your eyes flashed lightning daggers and your wand came out of your sleeve before I could think.
“Maybe, one day I’ll tell you about the scar. For the meanwhile, let’s see what a sneezing spell will do for your big mouth.” You held your wand up to spike my mouth. I had the certain feeling that I would have a runny nose for weeks after you had finished with me. “Not enough time to get my wand,” I commiserated to myself. I sat there waiting for the hit.
But, it never happened. There was a roar from the bushes and the noise of a large beast coming at us, only about twenty yards away.
The Spell 17
No mistaking about that sound. “Wild boar!” I shouted. “I think it’s after us. We gotta get outta here fast, otherwise we’ll end up in a tree overnight and that will mean expulsion in the morning. Or, we could end up dead.” I put my glasses on and searched quickly for the way back that I had come from. The thundering feet and smashing of bushes got louder. And there was a terrible squeal, like the sound of Muggle car tires screeching to a halt.
The Spell 18
“No time,” you shouted. “Get your wand ready!” You spun and crouched towards the oncoming rush. A large bush split in two as a massive boar slammed through it, tusks flaring, slimy ribbons of drool from the edges of its wicked mouth sticking to its jowls, dark eyes of a shark staring ahead at us, and short legs pounding the ground with small thunderclaps.
The Spell 19
But the sound was all around us, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Wait. No, it came from the onrushing boar bearing down in front of us and from the opposite direction, the other side of us –behind us. I turned quickly and saw a second boar come around a row of trees directly towards our backs. Ah man,, and it was heading straight for us. We were in the middle. Not good, worse, than not good. Bad, bad, bad. No time to think, just act. I grabbed your cloak and threw you over my shoulder best I coud, while diving into the hollow of a split rotten log that I had spotted just a few feet away. We hit the inside of the log about the same time the boars hit each other head on. There was a terrible fight, with fur, blood, frothy drool, screams and one eyeball that splattered on the edge of the log we were hidden in. You muttered something about my being too rough and that I would pay, but I knew that you didn’t really mean it; not from the terrible sounds of the fight right next to us.
The Spell 20
The fight lasted only three minutes. But, it seemed like forever to me. First of all, we were crammed into the hollow of the split log, pressed up against each other almost head to head –yours was a bit taller, or more towards the end of the log than mine, so my nose touched the bottom of your chin. Secondly, though I had thrown you into the log, you had ended up on top, facing down; I was facing up. Which turned out to be no benefit to me; the dirt, leaves, bloody fur and something else rained in and hit my turned up face. I couldn’t wipe it away. I realize to my dismay what the something else was. Oh man, pig stuff, just a little bit, but enough, a one inch wide gooey streak on my right cheek. Yuck. Thirdly, the fight was a bad one; the hollow log was more than twice hit hard by the twirling, fighting boars whose heavy lunges against each other made them crash into the log, rock/rolling it back and forth the way children terrorize adults in a small boat for fun. This was not fun. Lastly, I had never been this close to a girl before. Your hair was spinning down into my face and it felt like soft silk threads. Your breath whispered like a soft wind in my ear. I could feel the soft glow of the warmth of your body. And, again, there was this wonderful, light smell of gardenias. “Oh man. Just let me out of here,” I kept saying over and over in my mind. I must have made a noise or said it out loud because you thumped me in the side of the head with your free arm and whispered, not too kindly, to ,”Shut up, idiot!” Like I said, the three minutes lasted an eternity.
The Spell 21
I could hear the surviving boar roaming around on its short powerful legs, every once in a while bumping up against the dead rival knocking it into our log. Which banged us back and forth against the insides of the log and each other.
“We gotta get out of here,” I said. You pushed me to the side and gave me a “crazy –duh-- look.”
“Right,” you whispered. “Why don’t you just stand up and make a run for it.”
I rubbed some of the dirt and boar stuff off my cheek with the back of my sleeve. “Ok, let’s make a plan, smart girl, ‘cause sooner or later, that thing is going to figure out that we’re in here. And when it does, we won’t have any where to run.”
“You have a point, dimwit. Look, I’ve got a distraction charm that may lure him to the brushes across the clearing. That way with it over there, we can make a silent, hidden break for the Castle. Do you have anything to use if it spots us?” Those purple eyes blazed into mine. The gardenia smell was there, even on top of all the dirt, blood and boar stuff. Your voice was smooth as velvet.
“Yeh. A tripper charm that I can cast if it starts to catch up to us. But, it’s only good for one time. We’d better be close, if I have to use it.” I didn’t know if I was more nervous about the boar or being close to you. At any rate, I wanted to get going; I was pumped up.
The boar was making scuffing noises with some snorts and squeals thrown in. It had moved away from our log and was examining the bushes on the other side of the clearing, thrashing them with its tusks looking for us.
You peaked of the top of the side of the log. Unfortunately, you put your right hand up to hold on and brought it back covered with fur and blood.
“Yuck,” you exclaimed in a whisper. “Now is our time to move. Ready?”
I nodded my head.
The spell 22
I took a quick peek over the edge. With my night glasses in place, all I could see were the swaying of bushes across the clearing, with intermittent squeals and grunts as the boar slashed around trying to pick up our scent or scare us into running. I looked down and could see the other boar. It was torn to shreds with some of its entrails spread out on the ground. For a quick second, I thought I might blow lunch. I turned back and ducked behind the top of the log. Well, that thing in the bushes and what it had done to the other boar was scaring me enough to run. I looked over at you.
“You first,” I said, turning back and raising up cockeyed, head sideways, one eye up, to peek for the boar.
“Nope, we both go at the same time. And, just to make sure that you don’t screw things up, follow me. I know a quick route through the bushes behind us. If we are quiet enough, I think that we can make it to the Castle in plenty of time.” You took a fast look over the back side of the log. “See that gap between those two bushes behind us.” I swiveled my head to glimpse what you were talking about. “We go through there, cut to the left, then about five steps, cut to the right, then straight on between two rows of white oaks to the Castle. When we make our move, be quiet and follow me.” Though your voice trembled just a bit, there was no question in my mind that you were speaking as a commander or officer. Had the ring of authority. That was good. Because I was icy scared to the bottom of my stomach.
“Got it,” I replied with as much broo-hah as I could muster.
“On the count of three,” you said, lifting up your robe to about your knees to make a good jump start. Which revealed beautiful legs, in Jodhpur riding boots and purple stockings. Riding boots and purple stockings! “What in…” But, I had no time to finish.
“One, two, three.” And you were over the log in a single bound, with me right behind trying to snatch my mind to catch up with my body.
The Spell 23
We hit the ground running. I followed you through the brambly bushes and down the row of white oaks. When we cleared the oaks, I could see the Castle up ahead, its turrets gleaming in the moonlight beckoning safety and comfort. So far, so good. No sound from behind. The boar didn’t hear us or smell us. I was thinking that it would be a cake walk the rest of the way. Until, while I stole a glance back to see any trace of the boar, you stepped in some sort of groundhog hole and went down with a loud “Whoomp!” Only to be followed by my running blind smack into your sprawled body, which sent me head over heels to land with another resounding “Whoomp!” Breath knocked out of both of us. We lay there for a second glaring at each other, trying to get our lungs back in order.
“Fool,” you said, in between gasps. “Didn’t you see me fall? You stepped on my ankle and I think that it’s twisted.” You reached down to your left riding boot and rubbed it where the leather surrounded your ankle.
“Me the fool? Right. Who stepped in the hole in the first place? I thought you knew the way back. Only a dufous would have stepped in that crater.” I was feeling around my body to make sure that I was in one piece. I stood up and reached down to help you up. You grabbed my hand and I pulled you up along side of me, you resting against my right side. There was that gardenia smell again. My heart was throbbing from more than the running.
“Not too far now. Let’s do like the kids do when they have their legs tied together and have to run a race,” I said. And not too soon. I heard a snort and squeal from the forest. Loud beats of pointed hoofs on short stout legs. Coming this way.
“Uh oh,” you said. “It’s onto us. We have to make it to that side of the left tower that’s closest.”
“Yeh, you’re right. It’s the closest, but it’s the snake lovers’ tower”
You gave me a pull, counted to three, and we went off with your responding as if I had said something so trivial that it was not worth listening to. “Rather deal with them, if we have to, or the boar? Get your mind in gear, and your body moving. It’s coming on fast and this is going to be close, very close.” Fortunately you could hold onto me and let me carry most of your left leg’s weight. But, it definitely slowed us down. You were right. It will be close.
My right arm around your waist, your left arm around mine, we counted a cadence to make sure that we were in time step. It worked and we made fairly good speed.
“Man, this is not happening,” I said to myself. This is too weird to be true. Beautiful girl who hates me, hanging on to me for dear life, running three legged to the Castle where we’re supposed to be asleep, and a killer boar about to trash us for good. Probably will, with my luck. There’ll be nothing left but a few patches of skin, torn clothes, and cracked bones when they find us tomorrow. And what will the stories be? Oh, man. I could imagine all the off color tales that would emerge. We gotta bake it back. We just gotta get back.” I pulled harder. As I did I heard a loud squeal as the boar cleared the oaks and bore down on us.
The Spell 24
The ground seemed to be made of molasses, cold syrup that held against every move we made. Our feet moved in slow motion, prompted by the whips of our angst and will. The Castle wobbled in our eyes with each crazy one and two together step we took. Oddly, I could smell the slight dew on the grass, a tingling sweetness in my nose. And with it, the gardenias. In contrast, there were the snorts, squeals, and thunder of the hooves behind us. Almost to the tower and I could see that you were wondering how we would get to the first window ledge.
We got to the ivy covered wall and looked up at the sill of the window. Your face fell and I could see the fear rush into your eyes. Too far away to jump. I turned and sighted the boar churning the ground to get to us, the tusks gleaming a sickly white green through my night glasses. Trails of slobber streaked its fur underneath its horrible mouth.
“Cast your tripping spell!” you cried with the boar not twenty yards from us. Only seconds remained. I drew something from my belt, but it was not my wand.
The Spell 25
“What is that?” you exclaimed, your purple eyes darting from the object in my hand back to the oncoming boar,
I didn’t reply, but pointed the hammer looking device up towards the sill of a window porch with my left hand, grabbed you tightly with my right arm around as much of your tiny waist as I could hold, pulled the trigger of the device and heard the loud Pop as the hammer end shot from its holding tube up towards the sill. On its way, claw like prongs emerged from its top and a thin cord trailed from its bottom end. More fantastic Muggle technology. It clattered to a stop on the sill. I gave it an easy pull toward me with the cord and one of the claws struck pay dirt and held fast. I pulled the handle close between us, pressed a button on its side and we launched up towards the sill. Just as the boar hit the wall where we had been standing. It went down with a roar and sandbag thud. It got up, shook itself, snorted in anger, reeled back, then circled around looking for us, tusking the wall a number of times. Finally, it ambled back in looping circles to the forest, still thinking that it could find us.
The Spell 26
We hung there underneath the sill, swinging easily back and forth. From a distance, we probably looked like an old fashioned pendulum on a Baroque clock. You started to slip away, but I wrapped my legs around you and held you tightly. You grabbed my cloak and climbed back up, face to face, to grip me around my shoulders, wheezing as you did.
“You almost squeezed the breath out of me,” you said, purple eyes flaring.
“Oh, maybe I should have gone ahead and dropped you instead, huh?” I replied, giving you a small nudge as if I were pushing you off. Your eyebrows peaked in fright.
“Hang on,” I said. It isn’t over. We’ve got to get over the sill.” I looked up at the bottom of the sill with the thin rope running done to my hands which were starting to ache. “And, we’ve got to do it fast; my arms are giving out. Hang on to me and let me use both hands to hold my climber’s tool.” You wrapped your arms around my neck and put your legs around my waist.
“Hey,” I said. “Easy, now you’re squeezing the breath out of me.” You let loose a little and when you did I saw a lightning flash in your purple eyes. Before I could say anything you had climbed up my chest, grabbed the rope, pulled yourself up farther, put your feet on my shoulders, then one on the top of my head, and in another pull, you were over the edge onto the sill looking down at me.
The Spell 27
Well, you did help me get over the sill, after having fiddled with the grappling hook. I actually think that you may have let it go if it hadn’t been so hooked so firmly into one of the cracks in the sill’s stonework.
After, I had gotten up, I sat beside you. We just sat there for a few minutes, legs hanging over the edge, kicking the wind. Silent. Neither of us spoke. And for a good reason. Both of us were wondering how we were still alive –well, at least I did.
“Ok, enough fun for tonight. Let’s sneak through the Slytherin Commons and get back to our home Commons. Follow me, and stay close. I’ve got a few tricks to use and if you are too far away from me, you’ll be spotted and everything will go up in smoke, to turn a phrase.” You slowly opened the double shuttered windows to the side portion of the snakes’ sitting room. It was dark inside. It should have been. Everyone with any sense would be well asleep by now. You did something with your wand and motioned me to follow you, catlike, slow motion through the room, though staying almost pressed against the walls.
I won’t say how you did it. But, you got us through. You went your way and I went mine. I slept like a log that night.
The Spell 28
The following morning, I looked for you at breakfast, but didn’t see you. I was going to ask someone where you were and then realized the idiot that I was. I had forgotten to ask you for your name. For days I asked about a Ravenclaw with purple eyes, but no one seemed to know any such person. In fact, after a while, they started to think that I was a Looney. So, I stopped.
For a long time, I looked but never saw hide nor hair of you. Until, that is, I started to play Quidditch. I became a seeker red shirt. What that means is that I was too young to be a seeker, not enough experience, but I could practice as a back up seeker when the Gryff A team practiced against the B team, of which I was the seeker. The B team was pretty good. We even challenged other B teams. And that’s where I spotted you. A seeker. Though not for Ravenclaw, but Slytherin. I knew it was you by the way you tossed your hair and the shoulders. But, the gardenia smell was the clincher. Whatever mask makeup you had on the night we met sure changed your looks. And not for the better. In fact, you were more than stunning now with the grit and grime of a good match than all that boar blood and leaves. (Well, that’s a no brainer.) Which we had, and ended in a tie. We had both grabbed the snitch at the same time; you had one wing and I had the other.
Our course of interaction lasted all throughout our years at Hogwarts. We never became a couple, but we did have our moments. Some of which were the other times you tried to knock me off my broom during matches or put blow up elements in my cauldron during potions class. There were other moments when we were together alone and I wanted to just tell you how much I liked you and hold you tightly at a dance. But, though the dances came and went, I never mustered up enough will power to make a move.
After we graduated, we went our ways. Me to do research with Muggles about memes, you to, well, I don’t know what.
It wasn’t until recently, with the comeback of the Dark Lord, that we happened upon each other outside a small hotel for wizards in the Muggle city, London. We practically ran head-on into each other in the entrance hall.
The Spell 29
Bam. We both bounced off each other, your hood flapping across your forehead to reveal your purple eyes. Me, I dropped the small box of papers that I was carrying and they fluttered to a small pile of white leaves around us. Obviously, neither of us was looking where we were going.
“Watch your step,” you said with a snip, and began to walk by me, scattering the papers.
But, I had seen the purple eyes. And, there was a hint of gardenias.
“You, Beatrix,” I said. “Goodness. It has been a long time.” I pushed my spectacles down on my nose, like my brother, to get a better look.
You stopped in mid step and half turned to look at me. “Huh? Baruch?” you responded, setting down a rather heavy bag beside your robe.
“Me, indeed. Why you look magnificent. And after all these years.” Age had etched itself across your face, but the beauty was still very much there.
“Thank you. You look no worse for the wear,” you said. You still had the flare for putting some ice into kind words. I quickly gathered the scattered papers and stuffed them into the box.
“What brings you here?” I asked, lifting your bag, taking your arm and easing the two of us to the side out of the stream of wizards and witches of all manner and description hurrying by.
“I have a project to complete, here in London,” you said. You leaned slightly against the wall in the casual flirting way you did so well back at Hogwarts to drive the wizards crazy.
“Ah, the same with me,” I said. “My brother asked me for a favor.” It’s going to take some doing, but I’ll see it through.
“Mine’s a tough one, too,” you said. “But, like you, I’ll see it through.”
I gazed into your purple eyes, which were flashing little lightning bolts.
“If you have a moment,” I said, “Let’s go up to my room and talk about old times, especially some of those Quidditch matches.”
You pulled out a large Muggle watch, looked at it, and responded, “That would be nice. Yes, let’s talk about old times.”
The thrill in my battered heart was back, though I had to go easy. I could feel my ears turning red and the heat from my face. “No fool like an old fool,” I said to myself with a silent chuckle.
Upstairs , my room was small but comfortable. It had a sandstone fireplace, a mantle with various Muggle objects indicating time, weather, a control for a contraption they called a TV, and two small vases filled with a collection of blue and yellow wildflowers. The air was a bit cool and crisp, so I hurried over to the fireplace and with a touch of my wand had a small, but warming fire flickering its yellow tongues up the chimney. You sat down on the red velvet divan –the color was way out of place for the modest room—and I sat in a winged corduroy chair that hand twisted curled handles at the ends of the arm rests. We both sat there for a second, staring at each other. Your purple eyes had not lost their penetrating gaze.
“So, Baruch,” you said. ”Why was it that we never became really attached? I know that you liked me, and I you. But, you never really told me so. Why was that?” You shifted a bit sideways, relaxing back into the divan.
You were always right to the point, though this time, the question struck home like an arrow hitting the bullseye. Ah, my dear Beatrix. You are right. I have always liked you. From the start. Very much. And, I at every moment that I saw you wanted to tell you about my feelings. But, alas, I was too shy, and more so, your beauty was beyond the reach of a plain chap such as I.” I stopped for a moment. Thought. Then asked, “Why did I ever have a chance with you?” A slight sheen of sweat appeared on my forehead and my heart was thumping more than ever.
You took a long breath, held it for a moment, then let it ease out in a soft sigh. “ Oh, Baruch, couldn’t you see that I had the same feelings for you, that I was standing by for you but to take me in your arms and tell me that you really cared for me. We seem to be victims of the pretense of classic student expectations, that a pretty girl could not love a brilliant, though thin and skinny boy, that a Gryf could not love a Slytherin, that custom must go before feelings. All these years wasted. But, really, there is no one to blame but us.” You put one arm along the top of the red divan and pulled back your hood to let your hair flow out over your shoulders. Though it was streaked with gray, it still had the essence of a sunrise and the curls of frozen breezes.
I made a move to get up and go to your side, but you held out your hand and stopped me in mid stride. “No, Baruch. There has been too much time gone. Let us dwell in the past of our feelings and not in the present.” There was a glisten in the lower lids of your purple eyes, small ice pearls that were liquid hurt.
I returned to set heavily in my chair. “If that must be, then so be it.” My heart was as weary as my feelings were heavy with despair.
“I should like to go, for my feelings could change later, and I don’t want that,” you said. And, gathering your bag to you, you stood.
“Ah, yes, you said that you had something to do or a meeting to get to,” I said. “But, Beatrix, my dear, be very careful. The Dark Lord is on the move and this July 21st will be a day of decision. Be very careful. You never know who may be around the next corner. A Death Eater or Dementor, or even You Know Who.” I brushed my hair back off my face and looked into your flashing eyes with earnest.
“I shall, and thank you for your care.” You replaced yur hood and went to the door. I reached forwarded to at least take you and hold you, but you were too quick and had the door open and went through it. As you pulled the door to, you said, “I release you.”
There was your smell of gardenias that disappeared the instant that you shut the door.
I stood in place not trusting myself to move, the tears coming down my face and etching hot ribbons on my cheeks. I heard the carriage door salm and the horse snort.
“Carriage? Horse? But, but, this is London with cabs, buses and subways.
I jerked open the door and took one step out to run to see what was going on.
You were standing at the end of the hall. In a dark long dress whose edges swept the floor as if they were alive with the east wind itself.
“What?” I exclaimed.
“I do love you, Baruch. But, I must fulfill my mission,” you said with a strained voice. Your hair ribboned down on the front of your dress, your figure was that of the goddess Helena, but the gardenia smell was not there –it was replaced by that of blue roses, your eyes were not purple, but yellow.
You noticed my startled regard of your eyes.
“Muggle contacts, Baruch. Again, Baruch, I do love you.”
“Ava…” There was a brilliant flash of green. And…