The Great Hall was swarming with students coming and going like bees from a beehive.
"What are you two pure-bloods conspiring about now?" Róisín asked playfully as she took a seat opposite Anna and Richard, the friend of Eóghan whose father had sent the brandy.
"Just the declining standards of house elves as we head towards the twenty-first century," Richard quipped.
"Ha! Have you seen the state of Anna's room back home? She doesn't have house elves."
"Yeah, my stupid hippie mother freed ours, I grew up toiling over the stove," Anna moaned.
Róisín snorted with laughter and Anna joined her. They both knew Anna hadn't touched a pot in her life. Anna smothered her snickers and struck back,
"Laugh all you want, but I think you Oirsh," she said in a thick Dublin accent, "are infiltrating this fine British establishment from the bottom up."
"What are ye on about?" Róisín asked.
"Well, all there is on offer today is Guinness beef stew and Irish salmon, explain that!"
"And Eton mess for dessert?" Róisín retorted, making Anna's faux serious expression ripple into laughter again.
The familiar banter made Róisín feel like she was slipping back into her old self. When Richard left, she apologised to Anna.
"I was super rude to you the night before last, I dunno what came over me and I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, Róisín," Anna said, "I'm just confused, is something going on? You've been acting... down recently."
"No, it's just, study and stuff, and hormones, I dunno." Róisín shook her head. "I'll be fine.... I'm excited about this party you're planning," she added with forced enthusiasm.
"That we're planning," Anna corrected.
They began organising the party on the way to transfiguration. They decided on Saturday, in the common room, at eleven when the younger students have gone to bed or retreated from their hostile glares. For food they would cajole the kitchen elves into donating dancing gingerbread men and flying fairy cakes. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so they could sneak in some butterbeer. For music they compromised between playing hits from the muggle world and Anna's favourite "Magikpop" wizarding bands.
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"The Theory of Flourishing Knowledge," McGonagall began when the students had settled, "was first proposed by Armando Dippet and later built upon by...?"
"Professor Dumbledore," a Hufflepuff answered.
"Correct. Now, who can explain it?"
Ida spoke up,
"The theory posits that the exact details of an intricate object are not required in order to transfigure the object, just enough information is needed to seed one's magic with its form; wherein it will be completed by the cosmos' collective."
"Excellent, Miss Evrard, ten points to Ravenclaw," McGonagall replied. "Although complete knowledge of the object is unnecessary, the more you know, the better your initial knowledge will "flourish"."
They were each given a blank notebook to transfigure. Róisín squeezed her eyes shut, said the incantation, and opened them to discover a hardback in its place, with "The Chronicles of Narnia" written across the front. The book was overflowing with moving illustrations; Aslan strode across one page, his magnificent mane soft beneath her fingers; on another a faun trotted through forests buried in snow. It only had a few words scattered here and there however, most of which were nonsensical.
YOU ARE READING
The Stirring
FanfictionSnapexFemaleOC. Róisín's world is falling apart. At the start of the year, all she had to worry about was passing her NEWTS. Now, her magic is slipping out of her control with disastrous results for those closest to her. Then the Headmaster forces h...
