End of Exams Party

((I sent you a message on Skype Keira. Ducky’s name is unknown to the students of Hogwarts. It’s become a full alias. XD ))

Ducky was rarely surprised, but when he was, it was usually Alisha Merchant who did the surprising. For a girl who appeared to always speak exactly what was on her mind, she was not easy to predict ;  it was a clear indicator that her mind was very much like his own – insane. As threatened as Ducky would have been by someone whose insanity rivalled his own, he was not when it came to Alisha. Perhaps their instability was complimentary, or their friendship was too strong. But he enjoyed knowing he was not the only clinical one around.

He whooped as he spun him about, before planting his feet and wheeling around to face her. He threw his hands around her neck and went limp, using her as his anchor. “Ms Merchant, when will you finally accept me? I’ve been pining for you!” He grinned, straightening up and giving her an almost violent kiss on the forehead, before turning back to what had now become a small gaggle around them. It seemed wherever he and his friends were, the party followed. He was certain Nora and Christian and Tris and Cas were nearby somewhere. It was, like, a scientific law. Awesomeness attracted.

Finn seemed to be recovering from something. She had been turning a shade of pink, and had looked even more bashful when he and Alisha had put on  a show. She turned to Bertie and offered a forced smile if Ducky had ever seen one. “Yeah. Herbology.” Alisha then attacked her and Finn looked absolutely unconvinced that she looked good, taking careful notice of Alisha’s legs and dress – as everyone else seemed to be doing. “Yeah. First dance,” she said, sounding miserable. Ducky grinned and scooped her towards him. “Then I get last one. That’s the one that matters, after all.” He shot a bratty look at Alisha, missing completely the glow that had overtaken his younger friend.

Ducky released Finn and turned to look upon the small crowd that encircled them - girls looking him up and down, guys looking at those girls, everyone jostling each other, exchanging drinks and this and that, casually brushing against each other to express interest. And all of them seemed to be looking his way for… for what? To christen this party, as he had done so many times in the past? He grinned.

“Well, I guess this is officially a party, huh?” He uncorked his Firewhiskey and took a massive swig. A few kids whooped and hooted and hollered, girls letting out their high pitched cries, everyone full of mirth.

“Oh, is this a party?”

It was a soft voice, and yet it somehow carried across the entire greenhouse. Ducky turned, Finn turned, and, in turn everyone around them turned. The path to the open greenhouse door was completely visible. And there, standing in the doorway, was Henrietta Finch. A strange version of Henri Finch. A smiling, preppy version of Henri Finch.

Someone nearby summed it up perfectly. “Holy f*ck.”

Bertie:

'Hey Alisha,' Bertie said with a chuckle, shrugging her hand off from his hair. Not that it bothered him he was used to Vivianna messing it up a little more and, in all honesty, it looked just as tousled anyway. Bertie's hair couldn't be tamed.

Somewhere behind Alisha, more towards the edge of the party seen, was a pale girl with dark wavy hair. Her eyes were shy yet filled with imagination. You could say the girl looked rather out of place at the party, or at least that's how she seemed to feel and Bertie felt as though he knew her quiet well!

'Erika!' He called over the light music that was playing. Not saying goodbye to the others for they seemed engrossed in conversation Bertie began to make his way across to Erika. Although he didn't quiet make it.

The herbology greenhouse door had opened once more and there, before his eyes, was Henrietta Finch. The girl who had tormented, bullied and personally victimised Erika Dixon. Bertie would have happily stood up for Erika, in fact he did a few times to Henri's cronies but the Ravenclaw was rather frightened of the older girl. She was intimidating. Granted Bertie was shy when it came to older students, a little less now than last year, but Finch was an entirely different ball game.

---

Alexander:

Speaking of his sister, her arrival couldn't have been timed more perfectly. The party had barely begun so he'd be able to talk to her privately without people really bothering about their disappearance.

'Hey, Ally. Can I talk to you for a moment?' He asked, no waiting for an answer but grasping her by the wrist and guiding her towards the greenhouse door. Alexander didn't say anything, he simply continued to walk. It would be unwise to stay in this greenhouse, he'd take her to one a couple the way down just to be certain that they wouldn't be overheard.

However just as he was about to open the greenhouse door somebody from the other side had pushed it open. A girl, a little preppy looking, with brown locks and big brown eyes. Alexander knew that face anywhere, anybody would recognise that face. Rolling his eyes the Slytherin gave a grimace towards Allyson. Henrietta Finch. The queen of attention seeking.

Alexander had never had time for her, last year she'd erupted into the Hogwats spotlight as a reckless, wild child socialite. Word around the castle was that she was responsible for the burning of this very greenhouse.

Hopefully her arrival would draw attention, she was good at that, meaning the siblings could slip out through the door and have their private conversation.

----

Natalie George:

Allyson Nott had arrived. The B****. Natalie and Ally used to be good friends, great friends in fact. That was until the fellow fifth year suddenly had a change of heart towards muggle borns. Most of the friendship group had been muggle borns meaning when Ally broke ties with them it put Natalie and a couple other against her. Natalie would never forgive her, never. Allyson Nott was the definition of a traitor. Someone who the Gryffindor had placed trust in and now? Now she was nothing more than a snob. Or at least that's how Natalie liked to think of her.

Seeing a gathering of students - one being Ducky, Natalie, with her firewhiskey, headed towards the group.

'Hey, Ducky.' She said taking a swig and eyeing up Alisha. Alisha was pretty, the two had never really spoken but Natalie was confident they would have probably gotten along quiet well. They were both outgoing ad adventurous. Now seemed the perfect time to start a new friendship.

'I'm-' Natalie introduced, although was interrupted from the silence that was suddenly cast around the room as the greenhouse door opened. '-Henri Finch.'

God. If you could only see me now, Bren. In the middle of rowdy teenagers screaming their heads off. Of my own volition. Are you proud of me?

Rika didn't wait for a reply.

She wasn't attired in the flattering midis, flared skirts and sheer stockings of her contemporaries. Her jeans were fraying at the edges, her grey hoody draped like a sack over a curve-less body, her head of hair knotted, uncontrolled and tumbling carelessly as usual down her back. She'd look even more of an idiot if she tried to slip on any of those shiny one-pieces over her twig-like body anyway, more desperate, more not-them. At least she was comfortable in her sneakers, in its orange juice splotches and dirt-crusted laces, even if her get up couldn't have been screaming party-crashing-pathetic-loser if she tried.

She plucked a glass of chilled Butterbeer from the tray floating nearby, sipping at it till golden froth coated her upper lip, liquid running soothingly down her throat. Her back sought out a pillar, leaning against it while her ankles crossed over the other; she'd be here in the corner a long time. And she was in no mood to mope.

But resignation and acceptance were two very different things, and just as she had retired herself to the former, a voice hailed her name. Her head twitched to the side, something almost warm coming to life to contrast with the coolness of Butterbeer sloshing around her guts, flickering in her insides- and her lips lifted inadvertently.

"Ber-"

The door creaked open, almost absurdly quiet among the thumping base of party music, vibrating through the panels of the greenhouse. Her gaze shifted again, and it shouldn’t have, because as soon as it had taken birth, the warm feeling- hope, it was thrice-damned hope- licking up her insides was forcefully quenched. Crushed to the ground and reduced to dust under the clean, merciless soles of the pumps gracing the feet of one Finch. Henrietta Finch.

The air released itself from her lungs, rustling past her lips just as quietly as the sigh that accompanied it. Her lips were not to be detered though. They froze, paralysed for the seconds that it took to sink in, almost tragically less in number because how difficult was it really to believe that her life had turned for the worse?- then continued courageously on their upwards path. Her chin rose to the ceiling, seeking the heavens beyond. The degree of amusement making its way, tiredly, through her dulled mind was ridiculous.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?”

~


Alisha pulled a face worth of a faceful of dung. “We’re wingmen, you deplorable Duck. Besides....” And here her lashes closed in a secretive wink. “You wouldn’t want to deprive the lovely singles of Hogwarts of our company, would you?”

Finn’s eyebrows drew together in that horrendous line stretching over her wide forehead that Alisha always felt the urge to go after with an eraser, looking downright miserable at the compliment and the prospect of a dance. The Hufflepuff’s smile faltered for a bare second, sun-like face settling into a shade less brighter, almost quiet affection for an instant- damn. Sometimes she wished they knew. Knew about the curse that plagued her every word, and the sheer freedom that came with it. Then maybe Finn and everyone else would know she wasn’t always whimsical......that she was never whimsical. That for what it was worth, she meant everything. But then again, she wasn’t an idiot; no matter how well she pretended at times. So whimsy it was, then.

One second, and the smile was cranked up to full power again, ready to warm and give, the thought lost as a grain in a sandstorm. As per usual, no one noticed.

The party started rolling, and before she could down her drink, a girl was sidling up, shooting her an equally amiable smile; and the familiar litany started up in her head- Narisa? Natasha? Narwhal? Thank God, the girl began introducing herself, and Alisha could feel her whites start to dazzle their way through- she liked this girl already.

“Alisha Merchant, friend to the Duck- I know that sorta lowers me in your opinion already, but I swear on my beard I’m not crazy.” Alisha squeezed out a cheeky wink, but the effect was slightly ruined by the hush that was spreading through the entire room. The marvelously observant person that she was, it only took Ali several minutes before noticing what it was that people were gawking at so openly, and as it turned, the it was a her and the her was a very unfamiliar her; the smile sweet enough to rot teeth and coming from Alisha it really was something since she herself probably did Happydent ads for a living.

And whispers of Henri Finch began floating through the air like overly excited bubbles, and really, what were the chances that one of the most popular girls at Hogwarts had missed her fourth year and went out vacationing in Sydney the year one of the more infamous girls at Hogwarts had joined? Apparently quite a lot, because that was exactly what had happened, and as the crowd very conveniently parted as the unfamiliar girl walked forward, Alisha seized the very convenient opportunity to stop feeling like the only one out of the loop.

“Oh-kaaay....so......really impressive entry and all.....” And Ali flashed two thumbs up and her dentines at the girl’s almost eerily flawless face, “-but.....who’re you, again?”

The last handful of girls had left the Ravenclaw dormitory, determined to head down to the party that was due to take place in the Herbology greenhouses a shade earlier than the girls who remained. One, the blonde, sat at the vanity that the girls shared, her make up spread out before her in a kaleidoscopic fan. The other stood pouting and twirling before the mirror that was mounted on the wall next to one of the long windows. Practised hands applied the mask to cheeks, to eyelids, to lips. Long legs turned and preened, dusk coloured eyes appraising what she found in the mirror.

“You’re taking forever, Dora,” Piper Goyle complained boorishly, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she slid her dainty feet into the heels by the end of her bed. She leaned down, folding over in two, revealing a snapshot of the lime green underwear she wore beneath the sky blue dress that clung to every trip and curve of her body, and dislodged the charm attached to her anklet which had gotten stuck between her skin and the material of her shoe.

The jingle of the bell charm made Piper’s friend look up. Isadora met her own gaze in the vanity mirror and pursed her lips as she applied a slither of gloss to the thin scarlet skin. After rolling them together she got up, reaching for the playsuit that she had been sent by her mother who seemed intent on ensuring that her daughter did not upstart her, regardless of the fact that it was a Hogwarts party where Astoria had no ties to the social scene. Nevertheless, Isadora was not going to risk pictures and incur her mother’s wrath because she hadn’t maintained a demure appearance. If she was lucky there would be none and Astoria wouldn’t find out. Regardless of whether she went home this summer or not, a Howler was only an owl trip away.

After dressing, Isadora slid her feet into her shoes, grateful for having made sure her toenails were painted as well as her fingernails. After donning a few rings and bracelets she sourced a necklace for herself and curled her hair as a final touch. Then they were both ready and after appraising themselves in the mirror – not forgetting to take some pictures – the two girls escaped from the isolation and boredom of the Ravenclaw tower, trying to keep out of sight as best as possible for the Prefects weren’t so eager to join in the fun as they were. Soon enough though, they were outside and heading towards the greenhouses, the music already rising to meet their ears.

The whispers of names did not affect the Ravenclaw girls at all as they entered, Piper dragging Isadora along by the hand. The two girls breezed past Henri Finch, the latter of them noticing the girl, the former paying about as much attention as a sloth did upon grabbing its own arm, thinking it to be a branch and then falling from a tree. No, the girls instead plunged themselves into the greenhouse, sourcing their poison for the evening – inevitably a bottle of Firewhisky each – and Piper pushed off in search of her boyfriend, leaving Isadora to her own devices.

A few swigs of Dutch courage and Isadora felt she could face the party. In fact, the subsequent gulp of the burning whisky set her out onto the dance floor, throwing her arms up into the air, letting the music wash over her, her eyes folding closed, all thoughts of the previous eight months leaving her as she moved into the music. She could have perhaps put it down to the sudden inebriation – never being able to hold her drink properly – but Isadora felt herself relax for the first time in what was, indeed, a very, very long time.

outfit!

Henri Finch looked upon a crowd that was definitely not welcoming, but one that was not yet openly rioting, which was partially what she had dreaded. She stood in the doorway, facing a sea of faces that was looking at her in shock, fear, or mild disgust. When she had ruled this school, very few would have been brave enough to look at her with such open distaste. She would have ruined anyone who was hick enough to so openly oppose her. But now, their looks did not bring forth an expression of cool evil, but of shame, of remorse, of guilt.

She ducked her head, glancing down at her shiny black shoes, buckled tightly, scuffed as they had been bought secondhand. Secondhand for a second chance. She lifted her head shyly, raising a hand along with it. She stretched her fingers apart from each other and gave them a little wiggle - a cute gesture if anyone had ever seen one. The hand immediately fell back to her side, and lifted a shoulder. "Hi, I guess," she said, her voice gentle. "I didn't know this was a party. I just got back." She rolled her lips back, seemingly nervous.

A voice piped up and she turned, identifying the voice. "Oh! Sorry - rude of me. I'm Henrietta Finch." She glanced to the girl's side and noticed a few familiar faces. "Ducky! Nice to see you. Oh, and Bertie - where's-"

"You're Henri Finch?"

Henri turned, primly folding her her hands behind her back. A short girl stepped forward, an expression of disdain on her features. Henri smiled brightly, though the smile faltered beneath the nerves of having to face so angry an adversary. "Yeah, I am. And you-"

"Casey Weasley," the girl said, folding her arms, looking Henri up and down. "You're Henri Finch?" the girl repeated.

Henri laughed nervously. "Yeah. Why-"

"You're the girl from Salem who burned down the greenhouses? The girl who gave the entire school food poisoning? Who spiked the goblets of House Elves so most of them had to be sent to rehab? The girl who pushed Suzanne Evans to try to jump into the ocean when she didn't know how to swim? The drug dealer, Henri Finch? The girl who got not one, but three professors sacked, and made one quit after you were done with her?" Casey tilted her head. "I went to Salem for a year - a year you weren't even there. Care to explain why there was such a wealth of stories?"

Henri looked out at the crowd. Those who had previously had little opinion of her... well, now they certainly had one. She ducked her head again, swallowed. "Well..." She let out a sigh and lifted her head again. "Yes. That was me. Was me. And I know I wasn't a saint while I was here. But I went to reform school and... and I learned a few things. About myself, about others, about life. And that Henri..." She looked to the Weasley girl, shaking her head. "I don't want to be that Henri anymore. I'm trying to be better." She cast an eye around the crowd and that was when she saw her.

"Erika!"

Henri stared at the Ravenclaw for a second, the one girl she had probably wronged more than anyone at Hogwarts. She was going to be her next prime target, her Suzy Evans. But now, looking at the scrawny girl, she saw a girl without defense, lonely and undeserving and cruel treatment. She tilted her head, her expression absolutely melting into one of shameless remorse. Her chin twitched and she clamped her top lip over her bottom to keep them from trembling. "Erika, it's... I'm so sorry. It's so good to see you. I was hoping... and you have every right to tell me otherwise... I was hoping we could start over. Maybe be friends." She shifted onto her other foot, gripping one arm with the other. "I just... I feel like the worst human being in the world to have ever done everything I did to you. I'm so sorry."

There was something odd about Henri. Not in the way she dressed, nor the smile on her face, nor the fact that she was asking to be friends with Erika. There was something more, something that Bertie could only guess was hiding underneath this new persona that Finch had adopted. Why was she being so nice? And how was it that she had remembered his name? Scratch that, not only remembered his name but said his name. The Henri Finch Bertie know would have merely blanked him completely.

Bertie wanted to warn Erika, tell her not to trust Henri but how would he do that right in front of the Ravenclaw's nose? He wasn't one for confrontation and what if everybody else believed her, decided to give a second chance? Bertie would just look like a complete idiot, maybe come across as a bit cruel. Bertie was anything but cruel.

---

Natalie watched the scene play out, taking a sip of firewhiskey to hide her laughter. Was this girl real? Did she really think being all sugary and nice was going to mend the damage that she'd done. Erika Dixon had been humiliated. Humiliated. She'd burnt down the greenhouses and what, she just walks into that aforementioned greenhouse to make friends?

'Oh please.' Natalie said, an bemused expression across her eyes. The Gryffindor had never been one to cross Finch. Most likely because they'd rarely come into contact but Natalie knew of the Ravenclaw alright, attended her party, watched Erika be made a fool of. Natalie, like almost everyone else in the greenhouse knew the American girl wasn't to be trusted.

'I'd be careful, she's a bit of a sociopath.' Natalie muttered in Alisha's ear not really caring if Henri heard her or not, Alisha was sweet, she was funny and if she wasn't careful she'd probably end up on Henrietta's hit list.

Her lashes fluttered. Blinked, rising up and falling down. Up and down. Up and down.

Finch wiggled her fingers in the air, and for a second, the memory of herself doing the same when she first collided with the girl in a Hogwarts corridor crashed into her head like a freight train. Her fear at the girl’s touch, ignoring the hand dangling in mid-air in so-called friendliness to wave at her jerkily had felt as imbecilic as it looked. Of course, Finch only ended up looking like a soft toy cute enough to squish when she copied the gesture. Of course.

But......but. Perhaps Hogwarts had lost its affection for diabolic Puffskeins. Because Rika had to spend at least one minute of her dull, muddled, stupid head on wondering why everyone wasn’t falling all over themselves to prostate at her feet. Licking up and digesting all her words like they were manna, sweet and pure. The silence shifted, and it wasn’t an awe-stricken, or even a particularly friendly one; the suspicious whispers and narrow glares permeating through the crowd, fixating on one brunette like a particularly ugly epicentre. And it wasn’t her.

A girl at least a head shorter than Finch took her on, and ripped her down limb to limb. Recounted every malicious word. Every hurtful deed. Every tiny little crime Henrietta Finch had committed that seemed so adolescent and immature in hindsight but were massive in the havoc they wreaked. Some part of Rika’s head registered that this was a moment that ought to have been photographed. Some tiny voice that struggled in vain with the heavy quicksand of her mind and went ‘Henri Finch - enemy. Enemy. Henri Finch. Finch. Enemy...’ That voice demanded her to triumph. To glory and gloat, to take in with satisfaction the moment that she’d been so desperate for a year before, even if none of it came naturally to her. Except the rest of her mind refused to cooperate, and her blank pupils stared rather than glared, and somehow.......she couldn’t understand it at all. Why she should smile. Why she should feel enraged, wronged. If this was victory, then it was a queer, bland little feeling; because Erika Dixon felt nothing at all.

Nothing, as Finch’s eyes descended upon her and lighted up, as her lips moved oddly, up and down and around, teeth and tongue peeking as she enunciated and performed, and Rika stared at the weird, trembling little thing trapped ‘neath white canines, mind lost in a bit of fog. She was speaking, Rika realised rather belatedly, and tried to summon regret for the fact that she’d missed a lot of what appeared to be very important words, if the people’s reaction around them was any inclination. Any student within five metres of Rika edged away within seconds, and the two were left in a circle clear of any other human presence, firmly perimetered by the party attendants. It was reminiscent of a pack of ravenous hyenas, slobber dripping from their jaws, waiting for the lions to stop circling each other and finish the fight, waiting to pounce on the afters.

Lion. Rika resisted the utterly bizarre urge to giggle. Lion.

Sincerity was emanating off the other girl in waves. Leaking through her ears, gushing out of her eyes, oozing out of her pores- till it accumulated about their ankles like a large, gooey pool and threatened to flood over their heads, sliding down their throats to choke them to submission. Finch had stopped talking quite some time back, and was now staring at her imploringly, and the absurd fear that Finch would transform into a doe any second, rearing her hooves and plowing Rika down in her spot was growing by spades; such were the power of the wide, whimpering eyes. Henri Bambi Finch. Oh lord, she was hysterical.

Hysterical.

People were beginning to shift uneasily in their spots. The silence was growing too long. They demanded a Hollywood-style reconciliation maybe. Or a fight. Definitely a fight, replete with cat-scratches, claws and Bambi hooves.

Rika stared into the other’s eyes, and felt the laugh leave her bones, unsounded, like a vapid bit of air. Too exhausted, maybe. Somewhere between the fog and dramatic, corrosively sweet lines lifted off a movie, the tiny voice in her head stopped speaking. Silenced.

“Fine. Sure.” She could muster no friendliness. She could muster no hostility. She had been soaked, wrenched out, and hung to dry. “Whatever.”

She pivoted on her heels, hands curling into her palms and seconds later, there was nothing to be seen of bony shoulders in the crowd.

~

Oh.

Well. That had been rather anticlimatic.

Henri Finch. Alisha had tasted the name in her mouth, rolled it around with her tongue a bit. Sounded very pirate-y. Maybe she was Darcy’s mate.

Or then again......Alisha’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher up the very steep plateau of her forehead as Casey Weasley declaimed the suitability of Henri to apply for the Evil Overlord post......maybe not. She’d never been particularly famed for her judgement of people anyway.

“I’d be careful, she’s a bit of a sociopath.”

“You can say that again,” Slipped out of her mouth, and Ali bit her tongue, wincing slightly. Yeah, she was honest. Didn’t have to make her judgmental though. She’d always made sure to hear both sides of the story before coming to a conclusion, but......well, there was only so much honey you could inhale before you grew diabetic. A wibbling lip. A wibbling lip for Merlin’s sake. The girl was either a sissy, or a two-faced b*tch, and fortunately none of them were very high on Alisha’s ‘Favourite People In the World Ever’ list.

Still, when Dixon’s short, blunt reply brought Finch’s melodramatic, ostentatious rambling act to a screeching halt, there was an awkward silence lingering in the crowd, the spotlight on a rejected Finch, left standing alone in the centre of the circle; and damn. Alisha really was better than that.

“Alright guys, that’s enough, show’s over.” Ali shot Finch a brief smile before turning and ferrying people away with unnoticeable, tiny pushes and amiable curl of the mouth. “C’mon, we’ve got a party to rock!”

The mutters broke out then, the usual gossiping exclamations of ’Did you see that! Of course I did!’, but the mob had started dispersing, now more of a crowd of well/averagely/horribly dressed people intent once again on having a good time. While all-purpose grin remained permanently pasted on face, Alisha lifted her eyebrows significantly at Ducky over atleast five shoulders: Get it going. Keep them distracted.

So that was that. Erika had simply agreed to put everything behind her? Bertie commended her maturity about the whole thing but this was Henri Finch. Henri Finch! The infamous American who had never done a mature thing in her life. It did appear convincing, the act the girl was playing but... it was Henri Finch!

It seemed safe to safe nothing problematic would come out of tonight, not if Henri wanted to keep any shred of respect that she had just obtained, he heard two Ravenclaws behind saying she seemed 'sweet'. Granted what they said was true but this was Henri Finch and the Henri Finch that Bertie knew was about as sweet as a troll bogey Bertie Bott Every Flavour Bean.

Thankfully the school holidays were swiftly approaching, that wouldn't give time for Henri to carry out a personal attack on Erika would it? Hopefully not, then again this was Henri Finch. Perhaps the Ravenclaw would keep a close eye on the American - and Erika for that matter - just to ensure nothing happened if Finch dropped her bluff. Erika had been a good friend to Bertie, he certainly connected with her as more than just an accuatince. She'd reunited him with Vivianna and shared her writing with him their first meeting, something that Bertie appreciated a lot. Not many people had done that before.

Choosing a goblet of pumpkin juice Bertie simply soaked up the scene: Alisha had shouted encouraging words to get the party into fifth gear, Natalie George was dancing with an older boy, taking regular swigs of firewhiskey; other students were gossiping and others acting like they'd accidently walked into an overpowered cheering charm. If only Bertie had the confidence to be as carefree.

Ducky was not used to not being the center of attention. He remembered Henri Finch well and still could not decide how he felt about her. He had never seen any of the horrendous acts she had committed and even though he would dislike her if they proved true, he was incredibly reluctant to judge anyone off of anything he could not consider to be his own opinions. She had never hurt anyone within his own little group, and he had no reason to believe she had not turned her life around. Sure, changes like that were not everyday things, but something about Finch did not seem everyday.

Amends were made and the party was in desperate need of a revamp. Alisha was thinking the very same thing and he felt her grab him with her eyes. Ducky grinned and bounded through the crowd towards Finch, grabbing her hand and spinning her into the party. He smiled widely and said, “Get yourself a drink! Everyone deserves a chance to celebrate summer!”

She giggled and shook her head. “Actually, I’m sober now. Thank you though.” She smiled, eyes sparkling and Ducky bit a lip, giving her another once-down. Hopefully, there was still some naughty still in there, but he figured he had better leave her to find her old friends and whatnot. He gave her a playful wink, pausing on his way back into the party to loudly recommend a Slytherin boy try a dance with Henri, suggesting that they seemed compatible.

He found Alisha quickly, coming up behind her. He reached around her and grabbed her hands, twirling her around to face him. “Dance with me, Merchant. Let’s flaunt what we got!”


Fiona found that the matters regarding Henri Finch meant absolutely nothing to her. She was yet to be personally victimized by the girl, though she was certain she was the right demographic, and she hoped that this change was sincere. She thought, once or twice, that the girl had offered a compliment somehow given to generate insecurity, but she was willing to give the girl another chance so long as she did not get into the crossfires.

She was finding that she was piteously defenseless, currently, with Ducky and Alisha intent on reviving the party. She glanced around, taking a few ambling steps this way and then that way, finding herself in pretty much the exact same position she had been in before. A goblet of pumpkin juice nudged her elbow but she declined, always mindful of Norman’s insistence that she never take a drink she had not been watching – especially at a teenaged party.

She looked about and saw Bertie nearby, drinking a drink of his own. She stepped forward, having noticed the way his eyes had remained firmly on his friend Erika – the girl that Henri had called out. Finn remembered the rumors about the girl and Henri, and she worried that the attention might have been embarrassing for the Ravenclaw – it certainly would have horrified Finn.

Finn glanced at the younger Ravenclaw boy. “Do you think your friend is alright?”


Things could have gone much worse.

When Henri was preparing her return to Hogwarts, she had insisted she return before summer holidays commenced. She had finished her exams so there was little reason, but she had promised that it would be a good step in her rehabilitation. Without the stress of classes and grades, she would be able to focus solely on sowing the seeds of good spirit. She could make her apologies, hopefully ensure she would not be entering the school year with a semi-clean slate, and she would make sure she had not been completely forgotten.

With Erika’s forgiveness, it seemed everything had gone well.  Henri felt her smile flicker widely and brightly, like a lamp in the darkness of the greenhouse. A few people around Erika and herself managed to look at each other as though there were hope – if Henri could be forgiven by Erika, surely there wasn’t anything that could not be fixed among friends. It was a bright spot of the evening, and there was the promise of more good things in that bright smile.

Henri was approached by the popular Gryffindor Ducky as though he were an ambassador for the school, offering a diplomatic hand in the form of a drink offer and a twirl. He left her better off than before, with a few boys glancing her way, suddenly realizing that if she was no longer crazy that she was potentially a very interesting conquest. She giggled shyly, stepping forward into the crowd so they could not find her. Boys were not that early on her list.

Oh, yes, she had a list. Return to Hogwarts. Make amends, particularly to Erika Dixon. Form some sort of normal reputation, securing the good spirit of her peers so she could attempt at a fresh start. Apologize to her professors and promise better grades and performance. Boys came in about a quarter of the way into the next school year – that was when she could begin considering them at all. The list was specific and well planned out. One version was on paper, having been approved by her therapist. She had another version in her head – basically the same, with maybe slight differences in wording.

Henri Finch always had a plan.