Dianthus Stories
Chapter Nine - Failure
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Anything you
recognize belongs to someone else, namely, JK Rowling.
characters from same. Sadly, I have no
hope of publishing this story outside the fan fiction base, although I hope you
enjoy the plot and the original characters I’ve created.
including flames and harsh criticism. I
may delete it afterward, so as to reduce my personal embarrassment, but I do
promise to read it and incorporate it if I feel it improves the story.
*****
This is Chapter
Nine. It’s also the beginning of Section
Two, which picks up the story of Dianthus as she begins her seventh and final
year at Hogwarts.
Smut begins in
Chapter Twenty Six, so if you’re only looking for that, feel free to skip ahead.
of the stuff in those later chapters if you don’t stick it out.
*****
Section Two –
N.E.W.T. Level
Chapter Nine –
Failure
It was late
afternoon on another lovely day in Chapel Porth.
greenhouse overlooking the sea. Sea
gulls cried as they circled the beaches below the cliff, and the air was
scented with salt from the waves crashing relentlessly on the sand.
en
year old girl was oblivious to the weather, the birds, and the sea breeze.
cauldron bubbling on the trestle table in front of her, and for the moment,
nothing else mattered.
“Come on, now,”
the girl muttered, brushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her face, and
stirring the thick purple solution one more time.
congealed. Almost instantly its
consistency was closer to paste than to honey, which was what the girl had been
hoping for. “God damn it!” she bellowed,
yanking a wooden spoon from the ruined potion.
“God damn it!” She jerked her
wand out of the pocket of her summer robe and grumbled, “Evanesco.”
greenhouse, stuffing her wand back into her pocket as she went.
She stalked toward
the house, but halted when she heard her name being called.
scrambling over the edge of the cliff behind the greenhouse.
Dianthus grinned
in spite of herself. Her sister was
fifteen, but still acted like a little girl sometimes.
and shorts, and her hair was pulled back into a careless ponytail.
asked, as Aster bent over slightly and panted from the exertion of her climb up
the short cliff.
“I heard you
cursing, of course,” teased Aster, after she caught her breath.
toward the farmhouse.
Dianthus
scowled. “No.
miribilis multiflora.”
“Ah, well, maybe
Professor Incompertus will be able to help you with it, when you get back to
school.”
Dian rol rolled
her eyes. “I wanted to have it
Aster. That was the whole point of
working on it this summer.”
“I can’t believe
Grandpa couldn’t help.”
“He’s as stumped
as I am. It should work, damn it!”
“No luck, then,
Di,” commented her grandfather. He sat
at the table, going through shipping manifests for their most recent deliveries,
but set his quill down and gazed up at her.
Dianthus saw Aster throw him a warning look.
“No luck,
Grandpa.”
“Well, you know,
Dianthus, they say miriblilis shouldn’t be ingested–”
“I know, Grandpa,
but I’ve been researching it all summer, and if I can get the balance right
between the miribilis and the aconite, the stomach should be able to process it
without damage. Then the potion would
work, I know it will.”
She sighed, almost
as irritated by his calm demeanor as by her continued lack of success in the
greenhouse. “Is there any tea?”
“On the stove,
love,” he grandfather repliedturnturning his attention to the sheaf of
parchment in front of him. “Aster, will
you be able to help me with this paperwork later?”
“I guess so.
There was just a
hint of sulkiness in Aster’s voice, which both Dianthus and her grandfather
ignored. As she started the tea,
Dianthus watched her sister’s brown ponytail swish around the corner out of the
kitchen. Physically, they could almost
have been twins. Both girls had brownish
red hair, dark blue eyes, and a fair complexion.
Dianthus, however, and thus sported freckles most of the year.
younger, Aster was slightly taller, but both girls shared the same nondescript
build that made Aster despair of ever finding a boyfriend.
The similarities
ended with their physical appearance.
Aster had always been outgoing and fun loving, roving the farm and its
surrounding countryside. She still
climbed trees and often rode one of the farm’s horses to visit their various
neighbors in town. Aster was boy-crazy
as well, and their grandfather told them he thought that was pretty natural,
but she’d better keep it under control.
Dianthus had leaned more toward bookish when she was young – she
preferred to be called ‘studious’ these days.
She wasn’t a tomboy by any means, but she had never gone in for perfume
or makeup, even as her roommates at school discovered these things and zealously
proclaimed their worth to her. It was
just too much trouble, she told them.
And of course,
Dianthus was a witch, while Aster had inherited the Squib genes.
magic in them ll.
most of her youth praying for the letter that would confirm her firm belief
that she did have magic.
tenth year, she had assumed Aster’s would be on its way to the farm
eventually. But Aster’s letter had never
come. Aster had been heartbroken, as had
Peregrin, their grandfather, though he made valiant efforts to hide this
fact.
Squib, and now his youngest granddaughter was, too.
and later, the success she anticipated in Potions research, would help to ease
his heartache.
She took her cup
to the table and sat opposite her grandfather.
“All packed, then?” He asked,
rummaging through his papers.
“I think so.”
Grandpa.”
“Well, ask your
professor when you get back to school,” the old man said absently.
“Maybe it won’t
ever work. Then I’m going to feel like a
complete asshole for having spent my entire summer on it.”
Her grandfather
eyeballed her over his paperwork. “I
wish you would expand your vocabulary, Dianthus.
picked it up from you, you know.”
Dianthus grinned
sheepishly and hung her head. “I’m
sorry, Grandpa. It just came out.”
regularly used vocabulary words that were much more vulgar than ‘asshole’.
her new swear words every time Dianthus was home from school.
She finished her
tea in another gulp, and rose from the table.
“I’d better check my trunk.” It
seemed she always left something at
home, and had to owl her grandfather to send it to her.
“Leaving same time
tomorrow as always?”
“Yes.
“She doesn’t have
a license,” her grandfather pointed out.
“Since when has
that mattered to Aster?”
“I’ll drive you,”
he said, grumpily. “Wake me up.”
Dianthus planted a
kiss on the top of his head as she passed him.
“Okay, Grandpa, okay.” He went
back to carefully checking the manifests while she made her way into the foyer.
“Aster,” she
called up the stairs.
Her sister’s head
appeared out of an upstairs bedroom. “What?”
“Weren’t you going
to help Grandpa with that paperwork?”
The younger girl groaned
and stumped down the steps. “I was going
to go over to the Branson farm before dinner,” she groused.
“Quit your
bitching and just get in there. I’m
going to go and pick something up from the pub so I don’t have to cook
tonight.”
“Whatever.”
into the kitchen.
One of the few
joys of living with a Squib was owning a car.
Sure, some wizards owned cars too, but Dianthus was the envy of her
underage witch roommates. She didn’t
have to walk to town, sneak out on her broomstick, or dip into the family
supply of floo powder. She could just
hop in the car and drive where ever she wanted, within reason.
her an excellent opportunity to consider what was wrong with her potion.