“Very good indeed. Form pairs, if you please, and practise with the cushions.” Flitwick descended. “Hey, Patience, c’mon,” Hengist urged, dragging her with him. “But… Anne!” Patience protested, looking back at her friend. “No, no”, Anne called. “I’ll practise with Connor.” Hengist had already grabbed a fluffy pink cushion to summon. “Oh no, I don’t even want to summon that!” Patience groaned, but aimed at the cushion with her wand and commanded “Accio”. Of course the cushion flew into her hands. Flitwick nodded appreciatively. “I always knew you were able to do that,” he said. “Oh, great! He must have seen Bethesda zooming past him,” Ghewyn remarked. Patience grinned. “Well, apparently practice does it, Ghewyn. Do try it again!” Ghewyn coloured. She hadn’t managed to summon a cushion yet. Flitwick tutted. “Miss Rhys, let me show you again the movement,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. Patience saw that both Hengist and Anne were suddenly standing rigid and watching Flitwick. Knowing her friends, Patience was absolutely sure there was something going on. Once the tiny professor had his wand in his hand, Hengist dropped his own. Anne rushed to his help, accidentally brushing Flitwick’s wand out of his hand. “Oh, sorry, professor,” she said and handed him a wand. Patience frowned. That was most certainly not Flitwick’s wand. “Here, Hengist,” Anne gave Hengist his wand back. “Thanks, but I could have taken it up from the floor myself,” Hengist said, apparently embarrassed. Still Patience thought this had been planned. Flitwick cleared his throat, pointed his wand at the cushion and said the spell, while waving the wand gracefully. Nothing happened – or rather, nothing happened to the cushion. Instead of catching a cushion flying towards him, Flitwick had to deal with a wand that had turned into a rubber snake. It hung limply from his hand. The class was laughing. Flitwick, once recovered, joined their laughter. “That’s a real good joke wand,” he called. “Here, Miss Symmons, thanks for the laugh. Where’s my real wand?” Hengist gave it to Flitwick with a slight bow. “Yes, Mr Alret, thank you as well. And where is your wand?” Hengist grinned. “Actually, my wand’s still in my bag. I had the fake one from the beginning of the lesson!” Flitwick shook his head. “Then let us proceed with the lesson!”

“Snape would have killed us for something like that, and Flitwick didn’t even take points from Gryffindor!” Patience exclaimed after the lesson. “We thought you needed a good laugh. Now go and be happy as you are,” Hengist told her. Patience nudged him. “Father Alret, shut up!” But she hurried away to the Ancient Runes lesson. Anne and Hengist shook hands. “Well done,” they said in one voice and burst into laughter.

“I bet I’ll fail the homework – again,” Tonks gloomily said. “Why should you? It wasn’t that bad,” Patience said absent-mindedly, conveniently forgetting how long it had taken her to decipher the page of runes. “You can talk! You’ve got the advantage of asking Uncle Rupert,” her cousin spat. “I never do,” Patience said, deeply offended. “Trouble in paradise?” asked Ramon Vargas with a malicious grin. “No,” the girls answered unanimously. Vargas leaned back against the wall. “You see, I’ve got the solution for your problems,” he said lazily. Patience frowned and turned away, but Tonks looked at Vargas with some interest. “Really?” Vargas nodded. “Sure. But – I understand that there is no problem at all…” He glanced at Patience who was still standing with her back towards him and Tonks. “Come on, Wood, a bet,” he challenged. “I don’t wager bets against Slytherins,” Patience coldly replied. “You can’t afford not to,” Vargas laughed. Patience snorted. “You wish.”

By now the classroom door had opened and the class of fifth years had left. Slowly the fourth years made their way to their usual seats. Tonks threw her parchment with her rune translation onto her desk. “And now watch me go down spectacularly,” she muttered. “Nonsense,” Patience replied in a whisper. Vargas, sitting one row in front of them, turned. “I bet, Wood, I bet that you’ll be really keen on wagering later,” he mouthed. Patience ignored him. She carefully unrolled her translation – but it had gone. She went pale. “Tonks, that’s not funny,” she hissed. “What?” Tonks asked. “You vanished my writing, didn’t you?” “Nope.” “But…” At that moment Professor Barnacle came to them. “Oh, Miss Wood, what’s that?” she asked. “I did the translation, on this very parchment, it’s just gone,” Patience said breathlessly. “Really? We shall see…” With a wave of her wand, the professor made the writing visible again – for about a minute. It was enough time, however, to prove that Patience had not lied. “I see,” Barnacle simply said. “Well, I’m afraid we will have to do the translation together, as nobody seems to have managed without mistakes.”

The class groaned, but they set to their task – again. Each student had to translate a sentence, and so it took them nearly the whole lesson to get through the homework. The professor was less than happy. “I think,” she said crossly, “you should translate page 154 as a homework.” Tonks quickly looked at the said page – it contained a long poem of some 40 verses, all in runes. “Plus,” Barnacle continued, ignoring the groans, “you should translate these ten sentences into runes.” With a flick of her wand, ten sentences appeared on the blackboard. The students wrote them down, inwardly cursing.

When they had left the classroom, Tonks turned to Patience. “That’s the worst homework she ever set us!” Patience nodded sadly. “And there is still so much else to do,” she said miserably. “I bet, Wood, that you are not able to do this translation without help from your father,” Vargas said. “I’ll show you,” Patience fiercely and unthinkingly replied. Vargas laughed gleefully. “See? I told you you’d wager a bet with me.”

Patience felt extremely angry with herself, but also rather at a loss of what to do. Of course she occasionally asked for help: her dad, her grandmother, older students of Gryffindor House. And now, with Vargas’ taunt accepted, she had given up that help for the homework. Plus she had told Vargas to be better than him.

When Patience joined Anne and Hengist at the Gryffindor table for lunch, she was very thoughtful. “You know, Patience, the lamb chops don’t mind being eaten – they’re already dead,” Hengist told his friend. “What did you say?” Patience retorted in a voice that sounded as if she was just awakening from a dream. “What has happened? You were laughing and having fun when we last saw you,” Anne stated concerned. “Vargas,” Patience said curtly and cut off a piece of lamb chop. “Yes, he is enough to make one lose one’s appetite,” Hengist agreed with his mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“He… he said I would never manage to do my homework all by myself,” Patience explained hesitantly. It sounded so ridiculous, and Anne was grinning. “You never do your homework all by yourself. Nobody does,” she said. Patience nodded miserably. “That’s the thing. And Vargas expects me to do better than him.” “Ah, c’mon, that can’t be that difficult,” Hengist bracingly said. “I’m talking about Vargas, not Banks or Cook. As much as I hate to admit it, Vargas has brains and uses them,” Patience retorted. “That’s a fact,” Anne added and nodded. “Well, then you should do your homework all by yourself, shouldn’t you?” “Yes,” Patience sighed.

Emerson Dicket had the pleasure of entertaining his class by showing the students how Muggle money worked. “So, Brian, how many pence are in a pound?” Dicket asked cheerfully. “What’s a pence, sir?” Brian asked puzzled, looking at the various coins on the desk in front of him. “One penny – written on the margin of the coin, just have a look,” Dicket cheerfully said. “The little silver one?” Brian guessed. “No. Sorry. That’s a Fivepence,” Dicket said regretfully. “Anne, have a go.” Anne looked at the coins. There was a big bronze-coloured one and an oddly-shaped bigger silver one. “They both look too big to be worth just one pence,” she said thoughtfully. Hengist was grinning broadly. He of course knew which coin was which. Dicket and he exchanged a knowing glance that made Anne furious. “Well,” she said clearly, “as silver is much more precious a metal than bronze, I think the one penny is the bronze one.” “A very good deduction, Anne,” Dicket beamed. “So, there’s still our odd piece left. What could it be?”

“Written on the margin, sir?” Catherine said and her eyes were sparkling. “Twenty pence, sir.” Dicket nodded. “Exactly. And how many pence are in a pound, Patience?” She looked up. “Sorry, could you repeat the question?” she asked. Dicket frowned. “Is everything alright? You look a bit pale.” “I’m just a little under the weather,” Patience told him and managed a smile. “Yes. Well. My question was, how many pence make a pound?” “Oh. Isn’t it the same as with our money? I mean, 29 Knuts make a Sickle, and 17 Sickles a Galleon – so, 29 pence make a pound, and 17 pounds make… I don’t know,” Patience trailed off. “Not quite, but I’ll leave it at that for you,” Dicket gently replied, then turned to the class. “Now, please copy that down: Muggle money: 100 pence are a pound. No in-betweens. Just pence and pound.” “And the penny?” “Oh, dear, Nelly, that’s just another word for pence, isn’t it?” Catherine said, glancing up at Dicket. “It is indeed. Keep that in mind when you go shopping. And remember, Muggles use bills as well.” “Yeah, they pay them or they have a lottery at the end of the year,” Mike joked.

“Lottery?” Dicket asked, momentarily at a loss. “Yes, a bill-lottery. They throw all the bills into a hat and draw those they are to pay that year. The others wait for next year’s lottery,” Mike explained. The class roared with laughter, and Dicket shook his head. “Not quite, Mike, not quite. Of course there are bills like that for Muggles as well as wizards, and we all have to pay them. But Muggles pay with bills.” “I know,” Ghewyn cried. “They have little slips of paper with the sum written on them!” “Those are cheques,” Hengist groaned. Dicket raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but do raise your hand before you talk,” he reproved Hengist gently. “Bills are these.” Dicket produced a bunch of colourful paper, all displaying the portrait of the queen. “Very nice, aren’t they? These are bills, and they give you the pounds, see?” He handed the money round.

When the bell announced the end of lesson, Dicket collected the money again. “Now, please write a short essay about the differences between wizarding and Muggle money.” He nodded and dismissed the class. Patience laughed hollowly. Another essay for her to write. Anne sighed. “Alright, my dear, I have an idea: I’ll write that essay for you, so that you’ve got more time for your Ancient Runes stuff.” Patience beamed at her friend. “Thanks.” Hengist tugged at her sleeve. “Come on, we’ve got to be in Trelawney’s classroom in less than five minutes!”

Trelawney had already started the lesson when Patience and Hengist arrived. They panted their excuses and fell onto their poufs. “As I said,” Professor Trelawney resumed her speech, “we will start a completely new branch of Divination today: lampadomancy.” “Oooh, that’s reading candle flames,” Nelly whispered excitedly. Patience and Hengist looked at each other and had to hide grins. “Lampadomancy is the art of interpreting the movements of a candle lit by the person whose future we are to divine. By the way the flame flickers, we can see what awaits the person,” Trelawney explained. “Now, be so good to fetch the candles. Professor Sinistra was so kind to give me her stumps for today.” The last sentence was an unnecessary remark, for every student recognized the spine-shaped candles that usually lit the Astronomy Tower.

“Burned down to the last five vertebras,” Brian said knowingly. Patience stifled a giggle when she fetched her candle. “I guess someone’s spine is inflamed,” she joked when she lit her candle. Hengist grinned. “Okay,” he said and rubbed his hands. “Let’s see what your flame tells me. Oh, it moves upwards, so… Your upper spine will be inflamed.” This time they burst into laughter, earning themselves reproachful glances by Trelawney and Ghewyn. Hengist hurried to open his book.

“Well, Patience, your flame – rather, the candle’s flame, is moving … not at all.” Hengist frowned. “Stagnation means that you’re going to stay as you are now.” “I can live with that,” Patience shrugged. “Wait – no, it says the height must be taken into account. And don’t you blow against the flame – you’ll distract it from divining your fate.” Patience pouted playfully. “Yes sir.” Hengist gave her a menacing look. “Wood, hold your tongue.”

He squinted a little to find out the height of the flame. “Okay, I’d say some one and a half centimetre. And the colour… light blue and white at the bottom, and light yellow upwards.” “Well, what do you think a flame looks like?” Patience could not resist asking. “Shut up, Wood, you’re emitting air,” Hengist reminded her. Patience deliberately made a movement that set the flame billowing.

Unfortunately this attracted Trelawney’s attention. “Ah, Miss Wood, something will happen to you – oh, something bad will happen to you,” she said mysteriously. “See, the flame moves towards you, and this means grave danger. You will have to beware of dangerous activities.”

Patience grimaced behind Trelawney’s back, and faked her own death, which made Hengist laugh. He turned this quickly into a cough. “Mr Alret, light your candle,” Trelawney told him. Sighing, Hengist did as he was told.

After the two lessons of lampadomancy, Hengist and Patience returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. “There you are – who is dying?” “I’m going to have a bad accident,” Patience reported. “And I singed my pullover,” Hengist added, showing his blackened cuff. “Never play with fire,” Anne wisely said and wagged her finger in a motherly way. “I’ve got your essays,” she brightly announced. Patience embraced her. “Thanks, Anne, I owe you one.”

That night and the next as well as the rest of the weekend, Patience devoted most of her free time to Ancient Runes. She worked until her eyes were red-rimmed and sore and her mind refused to think. She worked until the runes became little unmeaning signs. Her other homework was either neglected (like Charms, Flitwick would surely take her excuse without further punishment) or done in a hurry (like Potions, as Snape would rip her head off if she turned up without homework).

Monday arrived, and with it Double Potions. Anne hated these lessons, but Patience was very happy that morning. Vargas eyed her suspiciously. “You asked for help,” he hissed. “No, I didn’t. You may ask anyone you want to,” Patience told him. Snape cleared his throat, and Vargas turned back to the front. However, he was not very concentrated all through the lesson. Snape overlooked this, as usual.

“Good luck,” Anne and Hengist wished Patience in one voice when they headed for the Common Room and Patience for the Ancient Runes classroom. She grinned and gave her friends the thumbs-up. “You are very confident, Wood-louse,” Vargas said, catching up with her. Patience smiled at him. “And you’re not,” she stated. Vargas frowned. “You wish,” he said haughtily, but it did not quite work. Tonks joined Patience in front of the classroom. “Got it?” she eagerly asked. Patience nodded. “All done. And all correct.” Vargas shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. His fellow Slytherins sniggered. Tonks rounded on them: “Patience is really great at runes, so don’t you doubt her!” “Oh, thanks, Tonks, but they’ll see,” Patience said and pretended to blush.

Vargas glared at her when they filed into the class. “I bet you had help,” he hissed. “No. I had not. And I can proof it.” She unrolled her parchment and showed it to Vargas. He saw that it was the special exam parchment, prepared with an anti-cheating spell. “Professor McGonagall helped me. She gave me the parchment and also an exam quill,” Patience explained. Tonks applauded silently. Vargas looked really furious.

Professor Barnacle slowly walked through the class, looking at translations, while the students all wrote a sentence at the blackboard in their turn. Vargas was very good, Patience saw with deep concern. Of course, she had no mistakes as yet, but so had he. And as being better than Ramon Vargas was part of the bet, Patience saw her chances weakening. Ramon, however, saw his chance for a revenge.

But then it was his turn to go to the blackboard. Patience watched him write, and controlled her own writing. And there it was. “Ehwaz”, Vargas wrote down. Patience frowned. There had been no mention of “ehwaz”. The Professor equally frowned. “Not quite correct,” she said. Patience grinned when Vargas turned, his face flushed. “It is “eiwaz”, Mr Vargas,” Professor Barnacle kindly corrected. Vargas erased his mistake. Patience nodded satisfied. Only four sentences to go. Tonks was next, but her translation was rather abysmal.

Then it was Patience’s turn. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the chalk, but she wrote steadily on. Vargas watched her as avidly as she had watched him. He flinched. There was no mistake. He hit the table in frustration. When Patience passed him, she smiled serenely. “You owe me one,” she whispered. Vargas grimaced. He had lost the bet, and he knew it.

After the lesson, Vargas approached Patience. “Alright, Wood, you won,” he admitted. Patience nodded. “I know.” “What do you want?” Vargas asked through gritted teeth. “Nothing much, Vargas. Just that you keep quiet for a week. Whatever we do, you keep your mouth shut and your wand safely tucked away. Whatever we do, do you hear me?” Patience said gravely. “Alright,” Vargas agreed and held out his hand. Patience took it. “You’re a worthy opponent, Wood,” Vargas acknowledged grudgingly.

Tonks, who had witnessed the whole conversation, now turned to her cousin. “What are you going to do with him?” she asked. Patience shrugged. “Dunno. Perhaps make his life hell – or do nothing and just smile at him whenever I see him. It’ll be hell for him, always waiting for something to happen, and then nothing comes up…” Patience answered dreamily. Tonks laughed, and Patience joined in. Together they left the classroom, feeling deeply satisfied about the outcome of the bet.

“What next? Three drops of dragonblood,” Anne muttered. She frowned. Dragonblood. “I’m not going to use that. Urgh,” she commented. Hengist, his face sweaty from the heat emanating from his cauldron, groaned. “You’ve got to. It’s in the recipe.” Anne grimaced and looked at Patience. “Hey, potions princess, can I somehow skip the dragonblood?” Anne asked in an audible whisper. Before Patience could reply, Snape had swept over. “Miss Symmons, go to the front. I am sure you will be well working on your own,” he said silkily. Anne knew better than to answer back and collected her things to move.

Suddenly a scrap of parchment settled down on her copy of 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi. Anne looked around and saw Patience giving her a wink. “Miss Symmons, do you need an extra invitation?” Snape asked impatiently. “No, sir,” Anne replied and hurried to the front. She took care Snape did not see the note. A row behind her, a voice hissed: “Hey, Symmons!” Anne ignored it. Something wet hit her neck, and Anne swivelled around. “Oops, my toad spawn’s rather lively today,” Vargas simpered and Banks and Cook sniggered. Anne touched her neck and felt something glibbery. “You git,” she snarled. “Miss Symmons!” Snape only said. “I think I shall be perfectly entitled to take, let’s say, five points from Gryffindor for your inattention.”

Anne saw Ghewyn glare at her before she turned back to her cauldron, her cheeks glowing. She unfolded Patience’s note: Use the dragonblood. It’s not the real thing. It’s made from the fruits of the dragonfruit tree. And there was a little smiley, too. Anne crumpled the note and poured a liberal amount of dragonblood into her cauldron. Instantly a cloud of acrid smelling pink smoke rose and the liquid bubbled dangerously. Snape only smiled coldly but made no move to help. Anne opened her book and searched frantically for dragonfruit.

But as quick as she was, someone else was faster. Without speaking, Patience put two leaves of what looked like dry mint into the raging potion. It calmed immediately. “Miss Wood, back to your seat. Who asked you for help, anyway?” Snape asked furiously. ”Sorry, sir,” Patience replied and gave Anne a brilliant smile. ”Ten points from Gryffindor!” Snape said triumphantly. “What?” Patience asked surprised. “For pure cheek,” Snape added. “Cheek? The smoke was disgusting, someone had to do something,” Patience protested. Snape eyed her like a particularly nasty insect. “Ten additional points from Gryffindor, and should you be thinking of answering back, keep in mind that each word is worth another ten points,” Snape warned. Patience glared at him but kept her tongue. She returned to her seat fuming.

As soon as the bell rang, she said loudly: “And anyway, the effects of dragonblood are weakened when you mix it with toad’s spawn.” Snape did hear that, and he also knew Patience was right. After all, that had been his intention in choosing that particular potion. “Do you consider yourself such an expert?” Snape asked the girl. Patience looked at him coolly. “Enough to recognize things like that, sir.” Hengist and Anne held their breath. This could not go uncommented.

“Fine. Miss Wood, hand in an essay on the Draught of Living Death. By Monday,” Snape ordered. “Fine, sir,” Patience replied, took her bag and marched out of the room and along the corridor so fast Anne and Hengist nearly had trouble keeping up with her. “That stupid git! That absolutely unfair idiot!” Patience burst out when they were out of Snape’s earshot. “Your own fault, that essay,” Hengist shrugged. Patience stared at him. “Not the essay. He points before. I practically asked for the essay, but I did save Anne’s potion!” she declared. Anne nodded. “You did. And you saved us all from a dreadful death by suffocating.” “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Hengist grinned. “But I agree . Snape was, as usual, being unfair.” “What will you do for the essay?” Anne asked curiously. Patience’s smile grew definitely mischievous. “Oh, one thing Snape particularly likes.”

Neither Anne nor Hengist were able tog et a more definite answer out of Patience. She disappeared to the library at all available moments and even considered not watching Quidditch on Saturday afternoon. “Now, don’t get all fanatic, this is just a detention,” Oliver told his sister angrily. “Quidditch is far more important,” Mike added amused. Patience sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll come and watch. But this essay must be excellent – I want to show that git.” Her face looked so determined that her friends thought it was good not to be at the receiving end of Patience’s fury.

However, she watched the Quidditch match in her usual place as commentator – a great disappointment for David Bantam who would have taken Patience’s part instead. But as soon as the match was over, Patience’s voice was de-sonored and the crowd was dispersing, Patience was racing back to the castle to give her essay some additional facts.

Late on Sunday evening she declared it to be finished. Written in small, neat handwriting, the essay covered the better part of a foot-long parchment. “Well, I was thinking of asking to read it, but that’s too long, I’m too tired,” Anne stated. “But Snape will love it,” Hengist predicted bracingly. Patience shrugged. “I guess he’ll abhor it. This is actually nothing that’ll please him.” “Are you mad? This was already a detention!” Anne exclaimed, suddenly fully awake again. “No, I’m not mad. And I did what he asked me, so he can’t be chagrined about that,” Patience said triumphantly. Hengist had a glance at the headline.

“The Draught of Living Death – Just a sleeping potion?” he read out loud. He gave Patience a long look. “Snape told us about that one, didn’t he?” “Yes. Of course he did. But he failed to note some of the more sinister uses of the ingredients,” Patience explained. Then she stretched out her arms and yawned. “I’m going to bed.” She carefully rolled her essay and took it upstairs with her, not wanting to run any risk.

First thing in the morning, even before breakfast, Patience took the essay to Snape’s office. The potions master was there. “Good morning, sir. Here’s my essay,” Patience said cheerfully and handed Snape the roll of parchment. “Thank you, Miss Wood,” Snape only said and put the roll among other writings. “Don’t you want to read it, sir?” Patience asked boldly. “Not now, Miss Wood. Leave my office, if you please,” he replied curtly. Patience considered for a short moment to tell him she did not please, but knew it was not a very wise idea. So she left obediently. If Snape reacted as she thought, it would be easy for everyone to realise.

“Where have you been?” Hengist asked curiously – so curiously in fact that for a moment he forgot about his breakfast. “Handing in my essay. Such a pity, Snape wouldn’t read it at once,” Patience sighed. “You did not ask him to, did you?” Anne asked and groaned when Patience shrugged. “You are really, really stupid, Patience. Why do you want to get into trouble?” Patience took a deep breath. “I don’t want to get into trouble, of course. I want Snape to get into trouble, and believe me, he will.”

“Thanks, mate, so we’re all looking forward to an enraged Snape today. Well done,” Hengist said sarcastically. Patience blushed hotly. “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed. “You are,” Hengist retorted angrily. “Peace, friends, it can’t be helped anyway,” Anne wisely tried to soothe the others. “Only too right. Would I had read that essay and torn it to pieces,” Hengist said fiercely. “That’s done it,” Patience said, put down her goblet so hard the cutlers on the table jingled and got up. She left the hall with her head held high, cheeks burning in righteous outrage.

“Oh, Hengist,” Anne sighed. “Now we don’t only deal with a horrible potions master but also with Patience’s temper.” “That’s her fault, not mine. She should bloody well know better than to want to avenge any unfairness on Snape,” Hengist shrugged, but he did not quite feel as cool about it all as he acted. Anne frowned. “After all, Patience can answer back to Snape and even argue, because she’s good at potions. And she might even get away without punishment one day,” Anne suggested. Hengist snorted. “That’ll be the day Snape is going to announce he’s getting married.” “Never,” Anne concluded. “Exactly,” Hengist told her and turned his attention back to his breakfast.

News always travelled fast at Hogwarts, but this time the speed was really astonishing. Every single student knew about Patience’s essay and its probably effects on Snape before the first lesson started. And every student was slightly sorry for those who would have to encounter Snape first thing that morning. Quite appropriately, it was the Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years. “Double Potions, and Snape livid – just my dream of a perfect Monday morning,” Brian grumbled. “The good thing is,” Mike thought aloud, “it’s Patience who’ll have to face the bulk of meanness.” “Right-oh,” Brian said and his face lit up. “Perfect. it’s always worth a few points less, just to witness Patience and Snape clash.” “Thanks, guys,” Patience said from behind them. She couldn’t say more, for the door to the classroom was opened and the class filed in.

Patience had just reached her usual place when Snape’s voice rang out: “Miss Wood, to the front!” Every head turned. The Slytherins did not make any effort to hide their glee. The Gryffindors were divided. Some looked as if they pitied Patience, some looked enraged, some just wary. Only Patience seemed cool and unimpressed. She walked up to Snape who looked at her with open dislike. “Since you are the self-proclaimed expert on today’s potion you can as well hold the lesson,” he announced. A collective gasp answered that. Patience stared at Snape. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“This lesson is yours. Use your chance – or lose some points,” Snape said smugly. “Could I have my essay to confirm what I’m saying?” Patience asked. Snape smiled coldly. “I’m afraid not. You did write that essay, Miss Wood, did you not? Then I am sure you can teach your fellow students without reference notes.” The Slytherins sniggered. Patience’s eyes narrowed furiously. She shrugged. “Very well, sir,” she said and swirled round to face the class. “Accio my potions book,” she said and took care the book hit Vargas right on his head on its way to her. Snape tutted and scribbled something down.

Without so much as opening the book, Patience went to the blackboard and wrote “The Draught of Living Death” on the shiny black surface. “I guess that’s the topic for today’s lesson,” she began. Snape nodded curtly and leaned back in his seat, fully expecting Patience to fail miserably. “Good. Who has any idea what this is?” Patience asked the class. Blank stares answered her question. “Oh honestly,” she sighed. Anne raised her hand. “Yes?” Patience asked. Anne gave her a reassuring smile. “it’s a potion,” she said.

Patience nodded. “Yes, alright.” “And nobody but Anne Symmons would have known that we’re dealing with a potion in the potions lesson!” Vargas jeered. Patience cocked her head. “Well, if you’re so clever, enlighten the other. What kind of potion are we going to do today?” “As if I’d help you,” Vargas scoffed disdainfully. “Sir,” Patience addressed Snape,” as I’m holding that lesson, am I allowed to take points?” “No, you are not,” Snape replied lazily. “Vargas, answer or hold your tongue,” he added. Vargas looked surprised. “Um… a sleeping potion,” he said awkwardly.

Patience nodded. “So it is. Why then that name?” “You sleep as deep as Sleeping Beauty,” Melanie Pallet called and lapsed into giggles. Patience raised an eyebrow. “Gotta be a first, Melanie. Your first correct answer in potions!” “Sir!” Melanie shrieked. Snape shrugged. “She’s right.” Patience grinned at her friends. “Any idea what you need to send somebody to sleep for a hundred years?” “A drop of poison on the needle of a spindle?” Hengist suggested. “No. You need to drink it, not get a prick of a poisoned needle,” Patience told him gently. “But actually I wanted to know about the ingredients.”

“Belladonna?” Vargas asked. “You don’t want to poison somebody but want to send them sleeping,” Patience reminded him amused. “That depends on who you’re going to give the potion,” Vargas replied. Snape cleared his throat. “Get on with the theory, Miss Wood, we don’t have all the day.” “Fine,” Patience coldly said. “No idea about ingredients? You’re not up to scratch, then. It’s one of the most widely-known potions, and one of the simplest.” Anne decided to give it a try, but Ghewyn was faster: “Wormwood and asphodel!” she called eagerly. Patience smiled. “Exactly. So…” She flicked her wand at the blackboard. Snape frowned. Since when did Patience Wood employ non-verbal spells? He had to have a word with Filius Flitwick about that. But the blackboard showed the words wormwood and asphodel.

“Actually you need a strong infusion of wormwood first, to which you add powdered root of asphodel. Now who can tell me something about wormwood?” Patience looked at the class expectantly. With a jolt of exhilaration she saw that most people were copying down her words. Only Vargas sat with his arms crossed, staring haughtily down at Patience. “Nobody in their right minds would drink a strong infusion of wormwood,” he said. Patience raised her eyebrows. “And why not?” she asked. “It’s bitter and bitingly hot,” Vargas explained. “True. Wormwood is often used in plasters for cleaning infected wounds. Or to dry putrid wounds. It’s rarely used for infusions. Any idea why, apart from the fact that it tastes awful?” Patience asked.

Brian raised his hand. “Yes?” Patience encouraged him. “Perhaps it’s difficult to get the amount right, and too much is poisonous?” Brian suggested. Snape was scribbling furiously. “That’s the problem,” Patience agreed with Brian. “But why then have a strong bitter infusion?” Hengist wondered. “Can’t you add, say, honey to make it sweet.” “No!” Patience said sharply. The class was startled. Snape looked at Patience with the unfathomable expression of a snake waiting to devour its prey. “It can do serious harm, taking an infusion of wormwood with honey. Especially pregnant women shouldn’t drink that – it’s abortive,” Patience explained.

“Is it? Then the Draught of Living Death is not to be taken during pregnancy?” Anne enquired. “Correct – though you won’t find that in the school books,” Patience said. She looked over her shoulder at Snape who studiously avoided any eye contact. “And asphodel?” Cook asked in a bored voice. “Harmless,” Vargas said simply. Patience nodded. “Quite so. It’s good against fever and even works against the poison of certain snakes.” “But taken alone, neither asphodel nor wormwood will send you to sleep?” Anne enquired. “Yes. Only when you mix it, the sleeping potion will work. It’s the effect of the qualities of the ingredients combined: the warm and dry asphodel and the hot wormwood work together to soothe and calm the drinker. The effect is immediate and, depending on the time you let the wormwood infusion simmer, lasts for eight hours to several weeks,” Patience explained enthusiastically.

“Qualities?” Snape asked from behind. “The qualities according to Hippocrates and Galen, sir,” Patience replied. “I thought we had overcome ancient superstitions,” Vargas called loudly. Patience took a deep breath. “Yes and no. we know that in applying the humour theory to illness we’re doing wrong. But recent research has shown that in potions, the qualities matter.” “Recent research in what?” Snape asked. He sounded as if he was almost purring with delight. “Paracelsus’ potions,” Patience replied. Snape smiled silkily. “Ah. Yes. Paracelsus.”

Now everybody realized Patience had tapped into the snare that had been waiting for her all the time. “Paracelsus used dark magic, Miss Wood. How did you get to know? And about the wormwood?” Snape asked. He got up and went to Patience. “I… I looked it up,” Patience said truthfully. “You did? Well, well, you are really unlucky to find such unreliable sources,” Snape told her. Patience frowned. “Why?” she asked puzzled. “Why what, Miss Wood?” “I looked in several books and magazines, even…” Patience checked herself, but too late. “Even in the restricted Section. Without permission, I may add,” Snape stated. “I wanted to write a well-researched essay,” Patience defended herself.

“You did, I grant you that much. But Paracelsus and qualities! Miss Wood, you let your imagination run riot. Most of what you said was alright. But forget about qualities. It’s just the ethereal oils that merge and become sleep-inducing, nothing sinister or mysterious in that,” Snape lectured Patience and the class alike. “Go back to your seat, Miss Wood. We will do the potion now,” Snape announced. “I want to see this through, sir. You said it was my lesson,” Patience said boldly. A murmur of horror ran through the class.

“She’s crazy,” Hengist groaned. “You told the class something utterly wrong,” Snape reminded Patience rudely. “I know. But the basic facts as to mixing the draught were right. You said so yourself. Please, professor.” Patience looked pleadingly at Snape’s cold impassive face. He studied her for a moment. “The next mistake, Miss Wood, and it’s over,” he warned. Patience nodded relieved. Anne thought she could not have heard correctly. “Did he really give in?” she asked Hengist who nodded, looking as flabbergasted as Anne felt.

Patience quickly waved her wand at the blackboard and the full recipe appeared. “Make sure you don’t take too much of either wormwood or asphodel,” she warned the class. Snape gave her a look that was not easy to read. “You’ll brew it, too,” he said softly and pointed at his own cauldron. Patience nodded and set to work. Snape watched her closely. She let the wormwood simmer for exactly half a minute, then extracted the leaves. The infusion was of the palest green imaginable. Then Patience carefully powdered two inch-long roots of asphodel and added the finely ground herb to the infusion, stirring gently until the powder had completely dissolved. Patience filled a small bottle with her potion, labelled it neatly and gave it to Snape. “Shouldn’t I have a look at the others’ cauldrons?” she asked innocently. Snape suspected she would love to alter Slytherin potions, so he shook his head. “No, Miss Wood. You did quite enough for one day.” “If you say so, sir,” Patience said and tried to catch a glimpse of Snape’s notebook. Snape saw that and quickly shut the book – not fast enough, though.

When the bell had finally rung and released the class, Patience waited until she was alone with Anne and Hengist. “He gave me 15 points!” she sang and whirled around in glee. “No way. He probably took 15 points,” Anne suspected at once. Patience dragged her friends to the hall. There were more rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass to be sure. “Perhaps others won those points,” Hengist thought aloud. “You’re old misers, you two,” Patience scolded her friends. “I’ve been through hell this morning!”

“You looked as if you rather enjoyed it,” Anne told her. Patience smiled. “A bit. I only wish I could have taken points from Slytherin!” “By the way, how did you make the writing appear?” Hengist enquired. “Easy. Scriptum apparite,” Patience replied. “You never said a word,” Anne remarked. Patience smiled mischievously. “You see, non-verbal spells are vital when you’ve got a little nuisance brother and don’t want to warn him how you’re going to jinx him.” Hengist and Anne laughed.

“Well, I’ll never forget that lesson. Really memorable,” Hengist said dreamily. “Good prediction. Come on, we’ve got Divination now. See you later, Anne!” Patience laughed. She and Hengist left, and Anne turned back to the giant hourglasses. Perhaps Patience was right, and Snape had given her points, Anne thought. Then she shook her head. “No way,” she sadi firmly. “Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots.”

“So what will you do for Professor Dicket?” Hengist asked as the three friends were lying on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. “I’ll have to search the library first!” Anne sighed. “I’ve no idea what muggles do with their spare time.” “Hengist what will you describe, I mean you’re kind of an expert!” Patience wanted to know. “I don’t know, all of it sounds perfectly normal to me.” Hengist shrugged. “Yeah, find a queer muggle spare time activity and describe how it is done.” Anne read from the piece of paper in front of her. “Actually, I think everything muggles do is queer!” Patience threw in. “And actually I think nothing that muggles do is queer.” Hengist replied. “Well, I went to the beach several times and I noticed that muggles build heaps of sand to enjoy their time…” Patience mused. “They do what?” Anne asked in disbelief. “They put sand in a little bucket and make a heap out of it.” She reported. Anne frowned while Hengist shook his head. “It’s not quite like that.” He started. “They build sandcastles.” He said matter-of-factly. Patience and Anne looked at each other. “QUEER!” They said in one voice. “Perfect, that’s what I’ll do!” Patience decided. “Note, it will be easier to describe and understand the activity if you try it for yourself.” Anne read on. “No problem.” Patience pulled out her wand ready to wave it. “Hang on, hang on!” Hengist got hold of her hand. “You will turn the common room into a complete mess!” He warned her. “So, what do you suggest?” She asked patiently. “Go outside?!” He replied. Patience shrugged. And then she got up. “I’ll come with you!” Anne announced. “What about you?” Hengist shook his head. “No, I’ll have to do my homework…” He sighed.

“I think this place should be alright.” Patience decided. She waved her wand and a little heap of sand appeared. “Do you think that will be enough, I mean, you’re trying to build a castle.” Anne thought aloud. She turned to look at Hogwarts castle. “They don’t build it that big.” Patience told her. “But you’re right. I’ll need more sand.” And another wave of her wand doubled the amount of sand. She had to wave her wand one more time to produce a bucket. “You know, I would have thought we were not supposed to use magic to do this muggle thingy.” Anne thought aloud. “And what do you suggest? I’ll go to the next desert?” Patience spat at her friend. “Don’t be offended. I’ll be quiet now.” Anne apologized. She made herself comfortable on the grass. Patience took the bucket and filled some of the sand into it. She turned the bucket around but before she had reached the sandy ground all the sand had fallen out of the bucket. Patience turned the bucket around and looked critically into it. “All’s gone.” She noticed. One more time she filled the bucket with sand – but again all the sand fell out of it. Again she filled the bucket but this time she put so much sand in it that she had a little heap on top of it. Quickly she turned the bucket around. Unfortunately the sand had been faster. “It looks so easy when muggles do it! It’s like lying in the sun and gazing at the water!” She said to Anne. Anne shrugged in reply. Patience took the bucket and put it on the sand – upside down. She pushed it deep into the sand and removed the sand surrounding the bucket. Carefully she lifted the bucket. “Ha!” She exclaimed triumphantly. And ‘ha’ was the sound of the wind that destroyed the little heap immediately.

“Maybe, it should be more like a seashore.” Patience mused. She got up and waved her wand again. Now, Anne was sitting at a beautiful shore with soft waves breaking every few seconds. “Waycool, can we keep that?” She asked. “I’m afraid not. I’ll have to remove it as soon as I have managed to build a sandcastle.” Patience sighed. “Well, then we will be able to enjoy it for some time.” Anne made herself comfortable. She yawned. Patience used the time to take the bucket to cover Anne’s head with sand. Anne coughed heavily. “Have you gone mad?” She shouted at Patience. “No, I’m perfectly sane!” Patience spat. She was still standing. Anne got up as well. “So you haven’t gone mad?” Anne snapped. “Yeah!” Patience said. Anne took a handful of sand. “Well, then, take that!” She threw the sand in Patience’s direction but she ducked and was missed. She used the opportunity to gather some sand and aimed at Anne. But Anne pushed her backwards into the water. She knelt in the wet sand and held Patience down with one hand. Her other hand was filled with wet sand. Patience grabbed a handful of sand as well. “It’s disgusting.” Anne said. “It’s cold.” Patience said. They got rid of the sand and got up. “We look like complete pigs!” Patience remarked. “But you look more like a pig than I do.” Anne replied picking up some of the wet sand from Patience’s robe. “That sticks!” She added. Patience took some of the wet sand as well and examined it carefully. “Yeah, it sticks.” She agreed smiling broadly. She filled the bucket with wet sand and produced a beautiful little tower for her sandcastle.

“Where’s Hengist?” Patience asked when she entered the Gryffindor common room. “Gone!” Ghewyn replied not really caring. “Really. I wouldn’t have noticed!” Patience replied ironically. “He muttered something of a kitchen and left.” Catherine helped out. “That boy can’t be hungry again!” Anne exclaimed in disbelief. “Well, the only way to find out will be to go down to the kitchen and look for him.” Patience decided. “Maybe he went away to have at least five minutes of silence a day.” Ghewyn thought aloud. “Don’t worry, we won’t take you with us.” Patience assured her. “Rest in pizza.” Anne whispered. The two girls went down to the kitchen of Hogwarts. “Well, we have one problem – how do we get in.” Anne thought aloud. “No, we have two problems.” Patience said. “How to get out again?” Anne asked. Patience shook her head. “How did Hengist get in?” “Good point.” Anne agreed. At exactly that moment one of the tiny house-elves opened the door and went away. Patience put her hand on the door so that the door couldn’t close. “After you!” They entered silently. But the House-Elves were so caring that they waited on them immediately. “We didn’t come to eat, actually, we’re looking for a friend.” Patience explained. “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a little muffin.” Anne intervened and earned reproachful looks by Patience. She only shrugged in reply.

“Who missies try find?” The House-Elf finally asked after having listed and offered twenty complete menus with at least three helpings. “Hengist Alret.” Patience said. “Curly hair, not too tall, a little shallow maybe.” Anne described. “Shallow?” Patience asked in a surprised voice. “I overheard the Slytherins saying that the other day.” Anne defended herself. “Since when do you give a damn for what the Slytherins say?” Patience wanted to know. “Hey, I’d do anything to find Hengist!” Anne replied perfectly serious. “Missie Wood, boy was here, he left.” The House-Elf explained. “So, where did he go?” Anne asked. The House-Elf looked around but all the other House-Elves were shaking their heads. “We not know, Missie Wood!” He replied.

Patience and Anne walked away. “I wonder, where he has gone.” Patience mused. “Mmh.” Anne agreed. “Maybe he’s gone back to the common room.” “Mmh.” “Or he’s outside talking to Hagrid.” “Mmh.” Patience turned towards Anne. “Why are you saying ‘mmh’ all of the time?” “That’s to indicate that I agree with you…” Anne said with her full mouth. “Honestly, you’re almost as bad as Hengist.” Patience said reproachfully. “Mmh.” Anne only replied swallowing the rest of the muffin.

They had walked upstairs again just to find out that Hengist still wasn’t in the common room. “Well, I’ll better go to the library to find my own topic. But the real interesting muggle activities are in the restricted section, I bet.” She sighed and left. Patience shrugged. Since she had nothing better to do but desperately wanting Hengist to read through her essay she decided to find him.

On her way downstairs she discovered that she had no clue where to look for Hengist, leave alone find him. “Where is a Hengist when you need one?” She whispered as she walked along one of the corridors. Suddenly she stopped. It smelled of cooked food though she was several stories away from the kitchen. She opened the door which looked the most suspicious.

The room behind was filled with a stove, an oven and several other kitchen utensils – and of course Hengist. “What are you doing here?” She asked when she had spotted him behind the thickest cloud. “Cooking.” He replied. “What does it look like?” He added. “Like you were burning something!” Patience replied looking around the room. “Does it really look that bad?” He asked sadly. Patience nodded slowly. “And I haven’t even yet started. I’m doomed. Dicket wants us to write an essay on muggle activities and I mess everything up!” He threw away the wooden spoon. “Ridiculous!” Patience stated. “I tell you something I help you and you help me!” “Alright.” He replied a little doubtful. “What do you want me to do?” He asked with even less self-confidence. “Well, first you should tell me what you want to do.” Patience said thoughtfully. “I asked my mum for a muggle activity and she suggested cooking. She even send me a recipe.” He showed a piece of muggle paper to Patience. “Sticky Toffee Pudding.” She read slowly. Well, that sounds queer. And the ingredients are even worse.” She added.

“I suggest we just do what it says. I’ll read and you act.” Patience ordered. “Pre-heat the oven to 180°C. Put the water, dates bicarbonate of soda and vanilla extract into a pan and bring them to boil. Meanwhile,…” “Not so fast, Patience, please.” Hengist begged. Patience looked up from the recipe. When Hengist had finished she went on. “Meanwhile, cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy – until you are pale and fluffy?” Patience asked. “I’m not sure.” Hengist replied. “LOOK AT THAT!” Patience exclaimed. “It turns green!” Hengist cried. He took it from the fire. He cast a questioningly look at Patience. “Well, I think you just go on…” She suggested. “Beat in the eggs one at a time, adding a tablespoon of the flour with the second egg if the mixture looks…” “…green?” Hengist asked helpfully. “No, I’m afraid not.” “Maybe brown then?” Hengist asked eying the frying pan. Patience shook her head. “…looks as if about to curdle. Sift the remaining flour with the baking powder and gently fold in.” “I’m always gentle.” Hengist whispered while doing what Patience had just read. “Bring the date mixture back to the boil.” Patience read on when Hengist had finished. Hengist looked suspiciously at the date mixture. “I wonder which colour it will turn now.” He sighed. “Slowly beat the liquid into the creamed mixture to make a smooth batter, then stir in the dates. Pour into a greased and lined 20x25 cm cake tin, 3 cm deep, and bake for 30 minutes.” Hengist did as he was told. “I’m glad it’s finished.” He said in a relieved voice. “No, no, my friend, you’ll still have to do the sauce.” Patience reminded him. “And I had hoped these ingredients were simply left-overs.” “Put the cream, sugar and butter into a pan and leave over a low heat until the sugar has melted.” “That’s not too bad.” Hengist decided.

How do you make a kite fly? The average witch or wizard would suggest to have a go with Wingardium Leviosa – however, since this is a project for Muggle Studies it seems much wiser to leave magic and witchcraft aside and to go for the muggle way. How do you make a kite fly? Well, how do you make a kite? ‘The simplest method is to take several sticks, a big piece of paper and a thread.’ Simplest? Simplest? Whoever wrote this must be mad! Well, who was it anyway – oh, Emerson Dicket, of course. ‘First, you take the sticks. Choose two. One should have two thirds of the length of the other one – approximately.’ Approximately. ‘Place the short stick with its middle in the upper middle of the long one.’ Approximately. ‘Make it a right angle.’ How the … am I supposed to know the right angle? I’m a beginner. Approximately. ‘Put a piece of thread to the sticks.’ That should be easier. IF YOU TWO STICKS WON’T STICK TOGETHER… Right, not that kind of threat. ‘Tie it fast around the two sticks so that in the end you have a cross.’ Approximately. Well, that’s as fast as I can do it – two seconds. Approximately. ‘Second, cut a longer piece of thread that will go around the four edges of your cross.’ Approximately. ‘Third, put the thread around the four edges of the cross. Again tie very fast. Fourth, cut a piece of paper that matches the outline of your thread-cross thingy. Cut it so that you will be able to put some of the paper around the thread.’ Approximately. ‘Fifth, put the thread-cross thingy on the paper and attach it fast to it. Sixth, cut another piece of the thread, a meter long.’ Approximately. ‘Take little pieces of paper and tie them fast to the thread. Seventh, attach the thread to the paper-thread-cross thingy at the edge farthest away from the cross.’ Approximately. ‘Eighth, attach the rest of the thread to the cross’s middle. Hold on fast to the other end and try to fly your’ paper-thread-cross thingy. Simplest? Well, judge for yourself. ‘As we can all guess, we need a little bit of fresh air to make our kite fly.’ Autumn air is valued most highly among kite-connaisseurs! Luckily, it has only just turned October.

Well, a little bit of a storm outside here. How do you make a kite fly? Unfortunately, there’s no literature and the only piece of advice I could find was: ‘Why don’t you simply try it for yourself?’ Thanks Hengist. Somehow some of the air should get beneath the paper-thread-cross thingy. The air will send it ‘up to the highest height, up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear’ – I guess we all know the lyrics, thanks to the annual showing of the funniest wizard movies made by muggles. The wind is already pulling at the paper-thread-cross thingy. I just give it a bit more rope. HEAVEN! It flies, it flies, ‘for Harry, England and St. George!’ DUCK, DUCK, IT’S COMING DOWN AGAIN. Throwing myself into the mud and dirt I’m saved from any attack. The paper-thread-cross thingy lies defeated on the grass. And so do I. If things theoretically can’t get worse – they get worse. “Hello professor Snape!” “And what,” he answered in his cold and terrifying voice, “do you think you’re doing here?” “Try to fly a kite?!” I answered truthfully. Judging from his facial expression the potion’s master didn’t know what a kite was or alternatively he couldn’t make up his mind how to punish me accordingly. I decided to go for the first. “A kite, the paper-thread-cross thingy.” I pointed out. He folded his arms in front of his chest. “And I understand it is part of the – ritual – to wallow yourself in mud.” In the meantime I had gotten up and stood erect in front of him. A couple of very mean curses and spells shot through my mind. “You better remove that mess and yourself before…” “Severus, you are here, very good, very good. We will need your help.” Rescued once again.

“Emerson, are you in any way connected to this…” “Well, of course I am.” He exclaimed happily. Turning to me he continued. “What a wonderful idea to do a kite, Miss Symmons. Ten points to Gryffindor!” I grew several centimetres! “Well, then I better leave you to your fates.” Professor Snape tried to chick out – in vain. “No, no, no. We will need your help. Now Miss Symmons, I watched you from my window. You’re doing quite alright, only it takes more than one person to fly a kite! Severus, would you pick up the kite please. Now Miss Symmons, Severus and I will show you the trick. Ah, there you are. First you take the two edges left and right to the middle. Then you go back, more, more, more, more, more, more, MORE, MORE, MORE, ENOUGH. Then you hold on fast to the thread. Then, when the wind comes up again. You shout ‘LET IT GO SEVERUS!’ and run as fast as possible.” And indeed, believe it or not the paper-thread-cross thingy went ‘up to the highest height, up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear’. If you ask me it is well worth trying and should be considered as an alternative to Quidditch! But don’t forget bring a friend to ‘let’s go fly a kite’!

“Thank you, Miss Symmons. That was a very enlightening piece of homework. I hope all of you enjoyed it!” Professor Dicket thanked the student. Anne went back to her seat and settled comfortably down. “You never asked me how to fly a kite?” Hengist told her reproachfully. She shrugged. “Literary freedom!” “And the rest, was that literary freedom as well, or did it really happen like that?” Patience wanted to know. Anne only smiled mysteriously.

“Where is it?” Argus Filch, the caretaker, snapped at every passing student – even the Slytherins were not save from his attacks. Most students replied something like ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I haven’t seen it’, even though they didn’t know what he was talking about. When it was Patience’s and Anne’s turn it was the first time that he heard the surprised reply ‘What?’. Had they known him then they wouldn’t have dared to put forward this enquiry.

“WHAT?” He shouted. “Yes, what!” Patience replied a little more timidly. “My little kitten you bunch of a brute!” Anne frowned. She hadn’t noticed that his constant companion hadn’t been with him on this special occasion. “I haven’t seen her today!” Anne replied truthfully. Filch looked at her for a long time but just like anyone else he wasn’t able to look through her. He finally turned towards Patience. “I haven’t seen her either!” She told him before he could ask.

“Why is it that I don’t believe you?” He wondered still facing the two young students. Anne shrugged. “Maybe because you don’t know us yet?” She suggested. This could have been a possibility, then again, considering the events to come he would certainly have been sure that it had been either of them. He looked at Anne again. Then he turned and continued his search.

Patience and Anne walked outside to visit Hagrid. It was a Saturday and he had promised to let them accompany him while he was working. “Hello ye te youn’ girls!” He greeted them and then he said: “Come kitty kitty kit kit. Come kitty kitty kit kit.” Patience and Anne grinned. “What are you doing? Is that a sort of spell?” Patience joked. The giant man looked earnestly at them. “Don’ ye know? Mr. Filch’s cat ‘as disappeared!”

“There ‘as been a change of plans. I will not work down by the lake but will search the surroundings for Filch’s cat.” “That’s fine by us – as long as we can go with you!” Anne replied. “No, ye te will stay at the castle!” He decided and walked away still calling: “Come kitty kitty kit kit. Come kitty kitty kit kit.” Patience shrugged. “There goes another day pleasantly spent.” “Does that mean we will go and search the castle and its surroundings for the little kitten?” Anne wanted to know. “Yes, definitely.”

“But Hagrid told you to stay at the castle!” They heard a voice throwing in. They turned around and looked into Hengist’s face. “I can’t remember that he said anything like that!” Anne replied. “I can’t either!” Patience insisted. “I’m not telling you you shouldn’t go…” “Good!” Patience decided. The two girls turned around. “But you shouldn’t go…” The two girls turned again. “What?” Anne snapped. “…alone.” Hengist added. “You might need someone to protect you.”

The three were on their way. Filch was searching the castle turning every student upside down – so this was definitely not a very good place to start the search. Hagrid turned every stone in the Forbidden Forest – which in any case wouldn’t have been a good place to start. They decided to try the lake first. The earth on the shore was muddy and footprints would be especially easy to locate.

“You this way, we that way!” Patience commanded. Hengist frowned. “But who is to protect you if I am over there and you are attacked over here?” He thought aloud. “I think we must make something clear. The boy who gets bitten by every single animal we do in Care of Magical Creatures is hardly the right person to protect us!” “Then again it would be much better if any monster would eat him. It couldn’t be hungry after such a meal!” Patience threw in. “Alright, I’ll go this way.” Hengist replied and started walking.

“Are we sure we want to find Mrs. Norris?” Anne asked. Patience frowned. “I thought you loved animals!” “I do, but I don’t love Mr. Filch!” She argued. Patience grinned. “I wonder if anyone could!” They were interrupted by Hengist calling: “GIRLS!” They turned around. He was waiting for them pointing to the ground. Patience and Anne started running. They stopped next to their classmate.

“A footprint.” Hengist said. “But that’s too big – even for an outgrown cat…” Patience lectured. Anne followed the footprints with her eyes. She took Patience’s sleeve and pulled it softly. “Did cats like water or didn’t they?” She asked in a slow voice. “That depends on the cat, Bethesda, for example, isn’t too fond of water – but she can swim if she has to…” “And what about big black cats, do they swim?” Anne added. “I don’t know, what sort of cat are you talking about?” She wanted to know. “Hungry ones…” She replied.

It was only then that Patience turned. Her eyes grew bigger. “Those might be able to swim, but they certainly cannot dive!” The girls were on their way into the water when Hengist finally turned to face the black panther. Before he knew it he was dragged first into and then under the water. He thought he would have to die but before all the oxygen had been used he reached the surface again.

“Where is the panther?” Anne asked. It was standing on the shore watching them. “I wonder how Hengist is!” Patience said. She turned towards the boy. “How are you?” The boy looked at himself. “Wet but alive!” He decided. Patience and Anne let go off him. “Do you think it will go away?” Anne wanted to know. Patience shrugged. “Depends how hungry it is…”

“Do you think we will survive this?” Anne asked. “Depends how long we can swim…” Patience replied. “Do you think you could stop asking these questions, Anne!” Hengist snapped. “The situation is bad enough without them!” He added. “Sorry.” Anne replied. “I thought you might be curious about these things, too.” “Oh, oh!” Patience said. “I don’t like it, what does ‘oh, oh’ mean?” Anne asked again. “The panther lay down.” Patience replied. “I like this even less than Anne asking questions.” Hengist informed them. “Good, why don’t you go to little pussy and tell it?” Anne replied.

“Oh, oh!” Patience said again. “Could you stop your ‘oh, oh’ you’re driving me crazy!” Hengist snapped. Anne followed Patience’s gaze. “Oh, oh!” She said. “ANNE!” Hengist shouted. “Hagrid is approaching the panther. We must warn him.” She said. “HAGRID!” Patience called him as loud as possible. “HAGRID!” All three of them called. And indeed he did turn. “HAGRID!” They called again and his eyes caught them in the water.

“Nice der fer a swim!” He shouted and waved. “NO!” They exclaimed as he continued his way. “CAREFUL!” Patience shouted. “THERE IS A PANTHER!” Hengist added. But the panther had already gotten up. “I can’t watch this!” Anne whispered and turned away. The panther jumped up at Hagrid and licked his face. It licked it gently not hungrily. “Wait a minute!” Patience said. “Hagrid knows the panther!” She observed.

“Shall we go outside?” Hengist asked carefully. “No!” Patience and Anne replied in one voice. “But it seems to be a pet of his.” Hengist reminded them. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t eat us!” Patience thought aloud. Anne nodded. “He has all sorts of dangerous creatures around pretending they are little pets. And then eventually they will eat a finger or two of you.” “That’s not true.” Hengist protested. “Well, if you are so sure, why don’t you go out and try. If the panther doesn’t eat you we might come and join you.” Patience suggested dryly.

Hagrid looked at them. “Those!?” He pointed at them. “Those are students at Hogwarts!” He reported. “COME OUT!” He called them. They shook their heads. The panther moved its lips. Hagrid shook his head. “ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE PANTHER?” He called. The three nodded. “Well, don’t!” He added. Slowly the panther turned into a man. “An animagus.” Patience observed. “Who is it?” Anne asked. “I don’t recognize him.” Hengist said. They swam over to the shore and got out of the water.

The panther had turned into an elderly woman. She seemed to be scolding Hagrid. As the three came closer they could hear her voice. It sounded crackly almost like an old recording on an LP. She was furious. “You have to look after the grounds of Hogwarts. And you have to make sure that no student goes into that forest.” It was obvious that she was talking about the Malignant Magpies. Anne pushed the other two softly indicating that it was better to retreat.

“Oh no, not so fast you young rascals you.” The old woman grabbed two of them not caring that they were dripping. “What were you thinking being so close to the Forbidden Forest. You should know better. I wonder how you could survive for so long at this school without being killed or even expelled.” “Sorry, ma’am.” Hengist said blushing heavily. “There is no ‘sorry ma’am’. This is serious. A lot of dangerous creatures are lurking in and around the forest.” She went on.

“At least you tried to warn your friend.” She said a little less angrily. She turned towards Hagrid. “Anything going on in the forest?” She wanted to know. Hagrid shook his head. “No, everything quiet.” “Well, then, these three rascals are safe to go back to the castle on their own. And they will go back, won’t you?” The old woman who looked like a mean witch out of a muggle picture book stared at the three students in an unforgiving way. “Sure.” Anne replied fast. “See you at the castle Hagrid!” She said and led the way back.

When they were out of earshot Hengist spoke. “She was quite scary.” Of course he had all sorts of muggle fairy tales in mind and had almost seen himself being eaten by this witch. “Yeah, something wasn’t right with her.” Anne said. “Is that why you gave in so soon?” Patience asked. Anne nodded. “Hey, where are you going, this isn’t the way to the castle.” Hengist suddenly protested. “It is only via the meadow.” Anne replied. “I didn’t promise to take the direct way.” She added.

It didn’t help Filch’s kitten wasn’t to be found anywhere. “If you were a kitten where would you go?” Hengist thought aloud. Patience stopped. “Have you gone mad?” She asked. “Don’t you think it is worth while to imagine to be a kitten and by doing so finding out where she is hiding?” He defended his approach. “No.” Patience said. “You don’t know how a cat thinks, you’re simply no kitten.” She reminded him. “Well, we can change that!” Anne announced and drew her wand. Hengist ducked but Patience had already grabbed Anne’s arm. “It’s no use. He would still be Hengist just in the shape of a kitten. Cuter, certainly, but still Hengist and the only place he found would be a place where he would get something to eat.” Patience declared. Anne nodded.

“Maybe Mrs. Norris ran away on purpose?” Anne suggested. “I mean, Filch isn’t the nicest of companions.” “But I have never seen him treat his cat badly.” Patience threw in. Hengist nodded. “If he likes anyone than it is his cat and the Slytherins.” He thought aloud. “Well, he can always have a Slytherin pet if Mrs. Norris doesn’t come back.” Anne grinned.

Patience stopped. “Did you hear that?” She asked. Hengist and Anne stopped, too. “I can’t…” “Shut up Hengist!” Anne commanded. She turned sure to have if not heard so at least felt something or someone move behind her back. She couldn’t see anything. “Maybe it’s someone with an invisibility cloak.” Patience whispered. “I don’t hear anything!” Hengist said. Anne took his hand and spit on the back of it. “Irgh!” Hengist commented. She spread it with her fingers and held Hengist’s hand high up in the air. “Oh my god!” He said.

“Dementors!” Patience whispered. Hengist drew his wand. “Put it away.” Anne told him. “What are Demontors?” Hengist asked. The two witches had known that Hengist at times was a bit ignorant about his own identity and the things it involved but this was almost too much. “You don’t know what a Dementor is?” Patience snapped. “Sshh!” Anne whispered. “Be as sad as possible.” She added. “What?” Hengist asked again. “Be sad!” Patience told him in a way which allowed no more questions.

A tear ran down Patience’s cheek. Hengist felt as if he couldn’t feel anything at all. Had he known that this was quite as well he wouldn’t have felt so bad about it. Patience and Anne stared at the sky. “Do you think they’re gone?” Anne wanted to know. Patience shrugged. “I’m not sure. We better run.” Hengist decided to join them despite not knowing what Dementors were.

Suddenly Patience stopped short. Anne ran into her. “Why do you stop?” Hengist asked. Patience put her hand on his mouth. Something was floating in mid-air, just a few steps away from them. Hengist somehow knew that this was the Dementor. “Run.” He suggested but Anne held his hand tightly. The Dementor was obviously busy. “Filch’s Kitten!” Patience whispered. Anne stretched her neck and was able to see the little, frightened creature as well. The hand of the Dementor reached out. Patience set out to run past the Dementor. It was definitely surprised but when Anne and Hengist followed her it decided to go after them instead of being satisfied with a kitten.

“We must hide!” Hengist declared out of breath. “It won’t work with Dementors.” Patience replied. They looked onto the surface of the lake. “Can they swim too?” He asked. “It can float above you for a longer time than you can dive.” Anne told him. “Then we must defend ourselves.” He tried. “Wands don’t…” Patience started. “I’m not talking about wands. We can throw sticks and stones at it.” He suggested. “Sticks and stones may break your bones…” “RUN!” Patience shouted. And the three ran along the shore of the lake. It was very slippery and they made sure not to fall into the water.

They nearly stumbled over the dark panther who eventually turned into the elderly witch. She drew her wand and shouted “Expecto Patronum!” A white flash struck the Dementor and it withdrew. “Are you alright?” The woman unexpectedly asked instead of scolding them. Hengist seemed almost petrified. Anne was shivering heavily while Patience cried. The old woman caressed them. “It’s alright, you won’t have to worry. It is gone.” She stopped caressing them and searched her robe pockets. “Here, take these.” She handed them a couple of bars of chocolate. Chocolate always worked with Hengist and since he didn’t know what would have happened to him he was back to normal first.

The old woman led the three students back to the castle. In the meantime Filch’s kitten had re-appeared. The caretaker was very happy and didn’t have eyes for anything but his darling kitten. It seemed he even smiled at it. It was caressed and cuddled and patted and adored and lightly scolded. But the joy was too much to really be angry with the little creature and so it was forgiven.

Something which was not forgiven was the attack on the three students. The Ministry of Magic had had the idea to protect Hogwarts with the Dementors. Dumbledore and the other teachers hadn’t liked the idea from the start and had forbidden the students to leave the closer surroundings of Hogwarts but now that three of the students had obviously been attacked the Dementors had to go.

“Arabrutta, what has happened?” Dumbledore asked in a worried voice. “The Dementors were after them.” The old woman reported. “Poor little darlings.” She added. Dumbledore called for Madam Pomfrey who took care of the three students. They got a hot chocolate and were allowed to relax in the hospital wing.

When they felt a little bit better Hengist began to ask questions. “What are Dementors?” It was merely an accident that he had caught Anne alone. “I don’t know what they really are but they are the most dangerous creatures in this world.” She tried to explain. “But what do they do?” He wanted to know. “They…I don’t think you really want to know.” She said. “Then you don’t know!” Hengist replied. “They suck out your soul.” Both went quiet after this.

Hengist stared at her in disbelief. “But why?” “I don’t know Hengist, they just do it. They, they usually guard the magic prison of Azkaban. They’ll kill you if they get you. They used to be He Who Must Not Be Named’s followers.” “Azkaban, He Who Must Not Be Named? I don’t understand a single word, Anne.” Anne sighed as she heard this.

They stood in one of the corridors. She approached one of the doors, knocked and opened it. Nobody was in there. “Come.” She said to Hengist. They entered the room and sat down on the carpeted floor. “Azkaban…” Anne started. “…is the prison, the magic prison. The place where people have to go who acted against the Ministry of Magic. Many of You Know Who’s followers are there, imprisoned. He Who Must Not Be Named or You Know Who is a very bad wizard. He tried to gain control of the world. He kills those who are not for him and I’d like to believe that he would even kill those who are for him. He hates everyone who is not a pure blood. He hates muggles and muggle-borns and squibs, people of a magical family who cannot do magic.”

“But that means that he hates my family and me and all our neighbours…where is he now? Is he in Azkaban?” Anne didn’t know what to reply. There were two opinions. One was that Voldemort was dead the other that he was only hiding. She had often heard that her father said he was still around. “I don’t know, Hengist.” She touched his arm. “But if he was somewhere close we would have heard about it.” She assured him. Hengist swallowed.

“And those…Dementors, they were on his side and now they are the guards of our prisoners among whom are his followers?” He asked not understanding how the magical world turned. “I know it doesn’t make sense but it is so, yes.” She replied. Hengist looked at her. “When was it?” Of course, he was referring to the times of Voldemort. “1968 till 1981.” She knew that Hengist would be shocked and he was. “But that was just the year before we came here! How can that be? Why did never anybody talk about it? Why did they not tell the muggle-borns?” He was very upset.

Hengist stormed out of the room and back to the Gryffindor common room. Anne followed him. At the same time Dumbledore sent professor McGonagall to the common room. “Can I talk to the fourth years?” Hengist asked and settled down on the sofa in front of the fire place. He looked around as his friends and classmates settle down around him. “A new prank is it?” Mike asked eagerly. Hengist looked at him. “What do you know about He Who Will Not Be Named?” “Must, He Who Must Not Be Named.” Anne who had joined them corrected her friend. She sat down next to him.

Mike cleared his throat. “I’d, I’d rather not talk about it.” He replied and looked to the ground. “Anyone else?” Nobody seemed to be especially keen to tell him about this time. Brian started. “I can only remember that I wasn’t allowed to go out after dark and if nobody was watching me. I had to go to one of those all magical primary schools. And, well, my parents watched the news for signs of You Know Who. The adults kept whispering about the matter trying to keep as much a secret as possible.” He revealed.

Nelly was the next to speak. “We always played with other witches’ and wizards’ children and some of our parents were constantly watching us. We were not allowed to go anywhere alone. And we went to a lot of funerals during that time. When You Know Who was defeated there was a big feast and everybody came around. It was a great day.”

Hengist turned towards his two friends. “What about you. Why did you never tell me about it. Anne.” He stared at her. “I wasn’t here at the time. I was with my grandmother in Austria. It was very quiet there. I went through home-schooling, didn’t see any other children there apart from my sister. My parents were in Great Britain, where we live now, but every now and then they would come to visit us. It wasn’t that bad – and I don’t remember to have any fears at the time. But I can’t remember a big feast either. I only returned to go to Hazelnut Forreth.”

“But you must have been scared!” Mike burst out. “Everybody was except those…” He was stopped by professor McGonagall though everybody knew what he would have said. “Mr. Flatley it wasn’t so uncommon to leave the country or to send the children away to a safer place. Parents tried everything to protect their children both from danger and the fear of it.” This silenced the students. Anne was glad to have help in her house teacher. Professor McGonagall had interfered because she hadn’t been sure how much Anne knew about the reasons why she had been sent to her grandmother’s and why there had been no reason for her to be scared of Voldemort.

When the gathering was dissolved Hengist stuck to Patience. “And what about you?” He wanted to know. Patience stopped and turned towards him. “I don’t remember, I really don’t.” Hengist sighed. “Those must have been bad times, very bad times.” “Yes, Mr. Alret, but they are over now and there is no reason for you to worry now.” McGonagall gave him a smile. “But the Dementors…” He started. “The Dementors have already been removed by the Ministry, there will be no more encounters with them on the grounds of Hogwarts.” She promised.

Somehow Hengist couldn’t be as happy as he used to be before. He thought it to be impossible that so many bad things could happen without the notice of the muggles. He wondered what else had been going on in the magical world which had passed unnoticed by the others. And in fact he was worrying what was going on out there right now and how he could warn his parents to be careful.

He wrote a rather lengthy letter to his parents but when he had finished it he tore it to pieces. He could not point out to them what was dangerous for it seemed that there was nothing there at the moment. And in fact he didn’t want to worry them in a way that he was worried now. As he sat like that thinking about the matter Anne placed herself next to him. “You know, you could ask Arthur Weasley. He works for the Ministry and if he doesn’t know nobody knows. I’m sure he will tell you everything you want to know.” She suggested. Hengist thanked her but didn’t write to Mr. Weasley for some time.

The snow was falling silently outside and down in the dungeons the air was icy cold. That was made more agreeable by the steaming cauldrons on the tables. And still nobody liked going down there. The temperature fell too many degrees. So it was nothing special that none of the Gryffindor 4th Years was very happy to have to get up early. “Double Potions. With the Slytherins.” Mike’s head dropped on his arms again. “On a Monday morning,” added Brian. “It’s almost Christmas, don’t be so sullen!” Patience’s cheerful voice made Mike’s head jerk up again. “How can you be so happy when we are to face Snape?” he asked incredulously. “I can. Haven’t you noticed the new decoration in the Entrance Hall?” Anne stared at her friend. “I didn’t notice it as well,” she whispered. “Oh. Well, then let’s go. Hengist. Hey, Hengist! Up with you, do not sleep!” “I haven’t had a cup of tea yet and you want me to leave again? We’ve got too much time left here in the snug warm Hall to go earlier into the polar regions,” Hengist complained. “Miss Wood has found some new decoration in the Great Hall she wants to show us,” Anne informed him. “The advent calendar? I’ve seen it, and now let me have my tea, okay?” Hengist turned back to his cup and stared into it as he had done before. Anne swallowed. “Has everybody except of me noticed the advent calendar?” she asked in a very audible voice. “I haven’t seen it either,” Oliver volunteered. “Sure, you had your eyes still closed,” grinned Brian. “Did you see it, then?” Oliver retorted promptly. “No. An advent calendar, how … cute!” Everybody burst into laughter and Patience coloured deeply. Yet she also smiled. “It is definitely cute, believe me!” she said. “We’ll see it anyway when we leave the hall,” Anne sighed. Patience succumbed to that and sat down again.

The advent calendar proved to be enormously big. It took the whole front side of the Entrance Hall. The open door showed a moving phoenix. “You’re right, it’s beautiful – but somehow it can’t make up for Double Potions,” Hengist stated matter-of-factly. Anne agreed and added, “And if we do not hurry we will face a fiery Snape.” They arrived just in time and dropped into their seats. Snape came shortly after them into the room, closing the door with a louder bang than usual. “That must be his Christmas depression,” Hengist whispered. Snape’s gaze fell upon him and silenced him at once. “You will work out the five uses of juniper today,” Snape announced coldly. “Working with the book? But, Sir, why don’t we…” Banks complaint was stopped as easily as Hengist’s whisper. Although the Slytherin was one of the least liked students, this time most others agreed with him. It was icy in the dungeon and they had all hoped for relief by a warm fire under the cauldrons. But working out the theory meant no warmth. “The longer you keep talking, the longer you won’t be able to test your solutions.”