Sunday, August 12, 2012

A Table Turned (Part One)

It was the first day of spring. The weather was warm and lovely, and it was hard to focus on classwork and OWLs when the balmy breezes beckoned. Spike had meant to take a break only for a moment, and gone wandering in the meadows near (and, ahem, in) the Forbidden Forest, gathering flowers for a nosegay.

She realized just how long she had been rambling when she noticed the sunburn on her arms. Oh, dear. Back to the dungeons she went, tying a green tassel to the small bouquet of Queen Anne’s Lace. A quick swish and flick later, and it Transfigured into a lovely bookmark. Saves the trouble of pressing them, eh? She looked at it again, and sighed, shoulders sagging.

It’s not much, but maybe I can turn it in for Herbology. It’s a specimen of flora, after all. She shook her head. No, Professor Harkiss would have me scrubbing the squid’s lair with a toothbrush for weeks if I turn in something this small for one of HER classes. But I need the points and the complete—even a GRUDGING complete—to be eligible for the trip to St. Mungo’s. There’s got to be a way.

In the Dungeon, several classmates were standing around a cauldron, giggling. Spike recognized a few faces from the St. Mungo’s train. “What’s up?” she asked Hecuba Entwhistle.

“It’s the best idea ever,” Hecuba replied. “We’re using polyjuice to turn into members of other Houses to … forcibly borrow ideas for last-minute projects. All the points are belong to us!”

“Cool! Can I have a shot?” The glass was passed, and Spike frowned at the murky liquid inside. “Looks like it’s settled a bit …” She stirred it with the stems of the Queen Anne’s Lace-- “Spike! Wait!”

But too late. She’d downed it in a gulp.

A moment later, Philandra Duntisbourne stood in the Slytherin dungeon. She looked at the nosegay in her hand, looked at her reflection in the mirror … and smiled a very Slytherin smile.

“Brilliant!” She handed the empty shot glass back to Hecuba, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Drusilla sneered.

“To the Griffindor Common Room, of course!” replied Spike, murmuring under her breath, “After a little detour to Herbology, that is.” Professor Harkiss can’t get too mad at a Griffindor firstie turning in a bitty project—especially since it’s crochet, and Philadra doesn’t crochet. It’ll be stretching her skills, right? And I’ll still get the points because it’s tagged with my name! Brilliant, simply brilliant.

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