Untitled Ravenclaw Story

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted, except for personal use. JK Rowling owns the Potterverse; I\'m just visiting.

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YEAR FOUR: START OF THE SUMMER

Warning: No explicit sex in this chapter or the next one. There will be a lot more when school starts again, and possibly before, but trust me, you\'ll want to read these next two anyway.

I was physically and mentally exhausted by the time Mum and I got home from Diagon Alley. We’d gone there from the train station and then Flooed back to our house from the Floo Station – relatively new and definitely useful, it was a room full of huge fireplaces where people could come and go.

I dragged my trunk and bags up the stairs and into my room, and then collapsed onto the bed. My bed. No matter how comfortable the king-sized bed at Hogwarts was, there was just something about the bed in which I’d slept since I was four years old that beat the bed I slept in for about 85 percent of the year. Maybe it was Charmed by my parents to make my sleep better; maybe it was just my imagination. I had no idea.

I don’t know how long I lay there until my father tapped on the door. “Can I come in?”

I must have mumbled an affirmative, because he opened the door and stepped through, then closed it. He took the chair from my desk and dragged it over to the bed, then sat in it. “So, I gather everything went well with your friend?”

I smacked my fist down onto the bed. “I don’t know what happened, Da. I really don’t. What was in that potion?”

He offered a weak smile. “Let’s just say that it interacted with your body and then with hers. Why do you think I warned you to avoid intimate contact before I signed off the Floo that night?”

“I would’ve appreciated a little more detail.”

“So would I.” Da folded his arms. “Make you a deal: you tell me how you got involved with a succubus, and I’ll explain exactly what happened. And then we’ll have a little talk that I think is long-overdue.”

I nodded and spent the next fifteen minutes explaining everything, from my mission for Leonard to Robert and the gang to the Quidditch adventure – I blushed fiercely when I got to the sex stuff, but since Da already had a pretty good idea, there was no choice but to tell him – to Fiona’s demands to the last moment we spent together, just before I threw her out of bed.

And Da held up his end of the bargain. He explained to me the concept behind an anti-arousal potion, something added to the food in Azkaban and most other wizarding prisons. He explained to me how he mixed certain ingredients of the potion with the ingredients in synthetic blood – some vampires drank that instead of human blood, although rumors say it didn’t taste nearly as good – and how he went to one of the Lilim who happened to work at his office, not as powerful as Fiona but who nonetheless was a tiny bit succubus herself, and used a bit of her saliva. Getting it to Aunt Natalie was simple; he threw it through the Floo network into Professor Snape’s office – Aunt Natalie was on good enough terms with him to borrow his Floo connection, fully-linked to the network instead of just a communication system like most of the professors had – and Aunt Natalie had given it to me that night with instructions from Da to make sure I took it no less than twelve hours before the endgame.

“Thank you, Da,” I said, heartfelt. “I really do appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He folded his hands in his lap, his legs crossed. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come to me. I was never able to go to my father with things like this.”

“Who did you go to?”

He grinned. “Believe it or not, before Professor Flitwick was the head of Ravenclaw House, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Debenko, was our Head, and he was very approachable.”

“What happened to him?”

“In 1980, he took a job with the Magical Bureau of Investigation’s Medical Investigation Team. Over in America. We exchange letters every now and then, but I haven’t seen him since before you were born.”

“Speaking of…”

But Da held up his hand. “Not now. Now we have to talk about something.”

I colored a little. “If it’s the sex talk, Da, I don’t know that I need it too much.”

“Don’t you? What do you know?”

“Well…” It was difficult to articulate some of what I knew; even harder to do it laying down. So I sat up in bed, my back against the wall in the half-Lotus position. “I know what all the parts are on men and women. Fiona showed me everything.”

“Did she now?” Da folded his arms. “How nice of her.”

I gave him a half-hearted dirty look, and he chuckled.

“What else?”

“I know what sex is. I know where… it… goes. I know that eventually the man has an orgasm and that’s what gets a woman pregnant.”

“David,” he said solemnly, “please tell me that you know about birth control.”

“I’ve never thought about it. I’m still a virgin.” It took every bit of my willpower to say that without blushing.

“Good.” Da let out a breath. “I’m glad to hear it. Now listen, because I have a few things you need to know.”

My head was spinning with all the warnings – diseases, pregnancy statistics, cycles of the moon, everything Da could pump into my brain in the course of half an hour. He also had promised me that I would have a supply of Biocontrol Potion to take to Hogwarts, just in case. It was a combination of things that would keep me from being able to impregnate anyone, and it would identify any sexually-transmitted diseases I might catch and stop most of them in their tracks. “Except for AIDS,” he warned. “The research department at St. Mungo’s has contracted our medical research division to help them break that one, but for now, it’s still beyond us. So be careful!”

For the first three weeks of break, I thought no more of it. I spent most of my time playing Quidditch with the Weasleys – we had enough players to at least have a decent game or two, provided no one did any Seeking; Ron would Keep, Ginny and I would Chase, and Fred and George would Beat – or working on break assignments with Luna. Ron was getting quite excited about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, and at the end of June, he came to our door pretty early in the morning.

I happened to be up – Terry had Flooed over the latest Sandman, and I was reading it – so I answered the door. “What’s up, Ron? It’s…” I checked my watch and swallowed a yawn. “It’s just barely half past seven.”

“You’ll never believe this, David,” he said. “My father got tickets to the World Cup!”

I tried to sound excited for him. “I’m sure it’ll be a good time had by all.”

“Look, I know we’ve had our differences at school and all, but do you want to go? Dad’s got a bunch of tickets.”

And there’s probably one for Potter, I thought darkly. Even though Professor Lupin – who had resigned his position at the end of the year, much to the chagrin of many of his students – had told me not to judge Harry Potter too harshly, I seriously doubted I could handle spending too much time in close quarters with him.

At least I didn’t have to lie. “Thanks, Ron, but we’ll be in America that week, visiting my Aunt Natalie.”

“Oh. Well.” He grinned. “Sorry to hear that, mate. Perhaps I’ll invite Hermione?”

“I don’t think she’s into Quidditch. Every time I brought it up when we were studying, she’d sort of turn off.” I shrugged. “But I don’t doubt she’ll enjoy spending the time with you all.”

“All right then. Quidditch later?”

“Sure. See you.”

Ron turned and went back down the road to where his house lay; I closed the door.

Mum was standing in the archway leading to the kitchen. “You know, you don’t have to come with us to America,” she said. “Natalie would have understood if you’d wanted to stay here and go to the World Cup.”

“It’s all right, Mum. I don’t really follow any of the teams anyway.”

“If you say so.” She waved her hand. “Zyba’s making eggs. Come eat.”

I followed her into the kitchen, and Zyba floated a plate of eggs and toast toward where I usually sat. Mum’s plate followed, and then a third – Zyba’s. Da was already at work; he’d been going in around six all week, working on some new spell.

A lot of wizarding families take house-elves for granted, but not mine. Zyba’s mother and father had worked for Da’s parents for decades; when Gran and Grandpa died, I think they went to work for Cornelius Fudge. Zyba had been bequeathed to us in the will, and I definitely think we got the better of the deal. Zyba had been a friend to me since I was little, using her magic to entertain me. We always made sure she had a new towel or sheet to wear whenever hers got tatty, and we always invited her to eat with us at table.

I think that the way her parents were treated – she kept in contact with them every now and then – was part of why Mum and Da weren’t big Fudge fans. He treated Xana and Wellbue like property – technically, they were, but I never thought of any sapient being like that – and although Zyba never said a negative word about Mr. Fudge or his wife, I know she was unhappy about it.

Hermione approved of the way we treated Zyba – I had mentioned it in passing during Transfiguration that we had a house-elf, and her lips had thinned until I explained that she was a member of our family. We made a ritual of offering her her freedom on her birthday every year – and we even had a small party for her each year as well, complete with a cake – and she would reject it every year.

But it was still understandable that, when a tall, dark-skinned American wizard Apparated in our kitchen as the three of us ate, the first thing he said was, “what is that doing here?”

I had shown the American – his name was Thomas McCann – into the sitting room, a room off the foyer where we would occasionally entertain guests, while Mum spoke quickly to Zyba. It was a new experience for her – the Clearwaters, Weasleys, and Lovegoods didn’t have house-elves, but they treated Zyba well because Mum and Da insisted upon it – but I think she understood.

Finally, Mum showed up in the sitting room. She must have taken a moment to change, or at least Transfigure, because instead of her bathrobe and a long nightgown underneath it, she was wearing beige robes, trousers, and boots, and her hair was pulled back instead of just hanging messily around her face. I was already dressed – I hated sitting around in pajamas – in jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and trainers.

“Mrs. Goldman, are you certain your son should be here for this?”

“For what?”

Mum waved me down. “It’s all right, Mr. McCann. He already knows.”

McCann’s dark-brown eyes narrowed in his dark face. “Very well.” He took a slow breath. “Natalie Stein has been injured in the performance of her duties. Gravely.”

Mum held herself tightly in check, but I could tell she was upset. I, meanwhile, leaned forward in my chair, clenching my teeth. “What happened?” Mum forced herself to ask.

“There was a raid at the Magical Bureau of Investigation. Ms. Stein was part of the squad sent to apprehend the Dark wizards and witches who carried it out.” McCann lowered himself into a chair after inclining his head toward it; Mum had nodded him permission. “The Cruciatus Curse was used against her for a prolonged period of time after she became separated from the other agents. As you know, Ms. Stein – your sister – was the subject of several Dark spells during her previous stint with the Bureau.”

“It’s her heart, isn’t it.” Mum’s voice was flat. “She’s dead, isn’t she.”

McCann shook his head. “No, she’s not.” I sighed and then immediately put all my energy into holding back tears. Aunt Natalie was alive. “But she will be confined to bed rest for at least two weeks, and she will probably never be able to walk again. Very precise Petrification Curses were used on her before she could be retrieved; the nerves in her legs and lower back were completely destroyed, beyond even the MIT’s ability to rebuild or repair.”

Mum allowed a single tear to break free from her pale-green left eye – the right eye was pale blue – and get halfway down her cheek before she brushed it away. “I want to see her,” Mum said softly, her voice hoarse. “I want to go to wherever she’s recuperating, and I want to see her.”

“Of course,” McCann assured her. “We can leave as soon as you like.”

“Let me contact my husband.” She left the room, leaving me alone with the American. Unlike British wizards, he was wearing a black formal suit, white shirt, and dark-blue tie. His hair was braided close to his scalp.

We looked at each other for a few moments. “Aunt Natalie – Ms. Stein – told me she’d left the Bureau. Why was she back?”

“I don’t know that I can tell you that. It should be your parents who tell you, in any case.”

But I simply stared at him until he relented. “If you must know, your aunt was sent here for her own protection. Last year, she’d spent six months going undercover to ferret out a very Dark witch and her coven. It was decided that she should stay out of the country for a while, so we put her under the protection of Albus Dumbledore.”

“I see.” I fiddled with a frayed patch at the knee of my jeans. “Will she be able to come back to Hogwarts in September?”

“We don’t know for sure.”

Just then, Mum returned to the sitting room, followed by Da. “If you’re coming, pack your things,” she said shortly. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour.”

I ran upstairs and dragged out one of my suitcases, throwing t-shirts and jeans and trousers and shoes and shirts and one jacket into it, then socks and underwear, then a couple of books I’d been meaning to read. I moved quickly to the bathroom – it had a door straight into my room as well as one to the hallway – and tossed toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and my kidney potion into a kit bag.

When I got back to my room, there was an owl sitting on the ledge outside my window. I recognized it as Terry’s mother’s owl, so I opened the window and invited it in. “Got to be quick, Alphonse,” I said. Terry’s father’s owl was named Gaston. I didn’t get the joke. But it didn’t matter. I took the letter from Alphonse’s leg and opened a small tin where I kept owl treats. Alphonse stuck his beak in and grabbed one, and then I closed the tin – I knew Alphonse well enough that he preferred to get his treats without human intervention, while Gaston liked eating them out of my hand.

Alphonse sat on the windowsill, waiting. I opened Terry’s letter and skimmed it quickly, then grabbed a piece of paper from my desk and a pen from the pen cup.

Terry,

My aunt was in an accident. We’re going to America to see her. I’ll try and send you a better response once I get there. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

David

I folded the letter and tied it gently to Alphonse’s leg; he nodded at me, turned round, and took flight. I closed the window behind him and locked it, then put the letter into my suitcase and zipped it shut. I shoved the book I was currently re-reading – The Voyage of the Dawn Trader – into my back pocket and started dragging the suitcase downstairs, forgetting that on my own property I was allowed to use magic.

Mum and Da already had suitcases packed – they must have used a spell to do it, but I had yet to learn the Traveling Charms – and when I finally clambered downstairs, as one we went into the living room. Da handed each of us a bit of Floo powder, and Mr. McCann went first. “Ministry of Magic, International Magical Cooperation Office!” The fire flared green and he jumped into it and disappeared.

“You go next,” Da said to Mum. “I’ll send David after you, and then I’ll come.”

Mum’s face was strained. I can only wonder what Mr. McCann said while I was upstairs. She tossed in her Floo powder, made her destination request, and jumped. “Now you, David. Ministry of Magic, International Magical Cooperation Office. Mum and Mr. McCann should be there.”

I nodded. “What’s going on, Da?”

“Just go, David. We’ll explain it when we have a moment.”

“All right.” I tossed in my powder, made my request, and jumped.

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Author\'s notes: Yes, Mr. McCann is named after the shoe store. Professor Debenko, who may appear later, is named after Dr. Debenko on ER (the surgeon who replaced Dr. Corday). Terry\'s letter is the start of the wrap-up of that part, and the start of the explanation as to why David\'s father Apparated out-of-breath at the start of Year Three.

Thanks to my reviewers. For them, I have this:

As for David\'s father apparating... I was going to explain that very soon, when I finish up the Terry and Sirius connection (and I know heeripottafanfictionaire wants to know about that too). As for the pocketwatch... remember he had two -- the one Robert gave him, and the one he found in his bed after the final Quidditch match (against Gryffindor). I will edit that to clear up possible confusion, but thanks for noticing it. He only flushed the one that Fiona left him; the original one he kept.

The next chapter will be even more serious than this one. Just so you know.