My heart skipped a beat as the photo came to life. There we were, Jacob and I, jumping up and down and grinning at Mom. She must have thought it was because we were excited. Mischievous, giggling, and making silly faces at each other. Little did she...
A tulip doesn't strive to impress anyone. It doesn't struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn't have to. It is different.
— Marianne Williamson, an American author
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Bill leaned over the door lock, whistling in surprise. We had seen all sorts of locks — charmed against thieves, chameleon locks, even locks-with-no-keyholes — but this one was unlike anything we had ever seen before. It was even wider than Bill's palm, had two narrow openings, and a roughly carved inscription. That inscription troubled me the most, as it would mean that someone other than myself had already visited my brother's room. Someone else had found it first.
"Property of Tulip Karasu?" Bill's face stretched in disbelief.
I raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and with a sheepish shrug, he explained, "She's from Ravenclaw, your year. I happened to deduct quite a few House points from her."
Bill delved into memories: explosive sweets that Tulip offered to first-years, then the Sneezing powder she "accidentally" sprinkled around, and then the Vanishing ink that Weasley himself fell victim to, watching his copied pages fade away into nothingness. Not to mention how Tulip set Angelica Cole's eyebrows on fire when the latest got too close to the fireplace. Angelica's brows? On fire? I couldn't hold back my laughter. She was one of the rebels, that Tulip Karasu.
"Let's interrogate her," I suggested, still chuckling. "After all, Rowan spent so much time deciphering Jacob's notebook..."
"I won't even ask how she managed that," Bill said. He headed toward the exit, and I followed closely behind. Just as we reached the spiral staircase leading to the western wing, he added, "She's incredibly clever, isn't she? Rowan."
I nodded. Rowan was more than just intelligent or academically gifted. I bet even Merula would give anything (or almost anything) to have Ro on her side.
"Ahem, so... any other news? News about, you know, the Vaults?"
I shrugged my shoulders. Our search had hit a standstill, with Rowan engrossed in deciphering the notebook and my own attention diverted to other matters. I had been delving into Boggart research, spending what felt like an eternity at Quidditch practice, and, in recent weeks, carrying a mandrake leaf beneath my cheek.
Indeed, my days were as chaotic as a bubbling cauldron.
After each rigorous Quidditch practice, my hands hummed with a tingling sensation, echoing like a gong after a powerful strike. Practice left calluses etched onto my palms — proud battle scars earned on the pitch.
With Bin suspended from Quidditch, an unexpected opportunity arose for me to step in and bond with another Beater. But not just any Beater... My nerves danced like restless Nifflers as I anxiously rubbed my neck, contemplating how to explain my unlikely alliance with Erika Rath, the Slytherin Beater, to Bill.
Erika was taciturn, broad-shouldered, and rough in her moves. I vividly remembered the sheer power of her shoulder as she once swept me out of her way. It was also difficult to waive the disdainful glances she exchanged with Skye when tensions flared between them.
Naturally, Skye wasn't thrilled to hear that Erika and I — Quidditch rivals — had begun training together. And what kind of training it was! Batting away rogue Bludgers, hauling barrels, and hanging at precarious heights with nothing but a patch of green Quidditch pitch below. Merlin's pants, I swear there was more connecting those two than they realized.
"Erika Rath?" Weasley scratched his head, trying to jog his memory. "Isn't she the one who tipped Snape's cauldron during Potions and somehow got away with it?"
"I reckon even Snape treads lightly around her. I mean... Rath... well, she tends to be oblivious to things — or people — along her path."
Another distraction from our search came in the form of Talbott Winger, of all people! We still hadn't spoken, our interactions limited to fleeting glances. But every now and then, I somehow felt his scarlet eyes fixated on me. I would glance around, finding no one, and wonder if it was simply my imagination running wild.
Or perhaps?..
Shortly after our last escapade, he knocked on our door in the dead of night, and we embarked on another journey through the castle. This time, our path led to the Artefact Room; there, amidst the vials and ingredients, stood Penny, looking half-asleep but brimming with excitement.
She was hugely agitated, because of her academic curiosity and, surely, an opportunity to test her mettle. An Animagus potion! Just the mere thought of it sent our imagination ablaze. Would it even be possible to brew? Yet, my enthusiasm found its root not in brewing but in the feeble prospect of seeing someone turn into an animal.
Talbott stared at me for a while as the potion simmered in the flask, then handed me a vial with the concoction.
"It's yours," he murmured. "You helped us with this."
Plenty of questions buzzed in my mind like a swarm of pixies on a rampage. "Me? But you..."
"I don't... I don't need it, Gelider. But I'm not ready to share this secret with you either. As you remember, we're no..."
"Yeah, we're no friends. Not yet."
A wistful smile tugged at the corners of my lips. There was an odd joy in his consistent denial of any friendship between us. And it was even odder to be a living Herbology experiment, wearing the mandrake leaf under my cheek — for a whole month — just to finally become...
"Become an Animagus?!" Bill exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up towards his forehead, almost disappearing into his hairline if they were able to ascend any higher.
I nodded, keeping up the pace. We peered into the open doors, surveying the half-empty classrooms in search of the elusive Tulip Karasu. With each fruitless attempt, our determination waned. With almost no hope, we stopped at Flitwick's and quickly scanned the room, spotting a familiar scarf and heading straight toward it.
"What? Looking for Tulip?" Andre laughed, revealing his pearly teeth beneath his plush lips. "She's probably serving detention, as usual. Look for her in the Classroom 1B."
He glanced at me with sympathy, in my jeans and sweater, and shook his head. "Oh girl, your attire seems to be magically adept at concealing any sense of style. Owl me in case—"
"Yeah, I know, I know. In case I need some fashion advice."
"Precisely, Curse-Breaker! Consider me your fashion Patronus."
And my fashion Patronus saluted, snatching his textbooks and disappearing into the crowd. Bill and I continued on our path toward the Transfiguration Hall, his chuckles contagious as Dragon pox. Urgh! Hogwarts seemed to come alive with whispered giggles as if even the castle walls were in on the joke. Were my jeans and sweater that bad?
"Tulip?"
She didn't respond, her focus intently fixed on meticulously penning out each letter. Countless papers on her desk were adorned with bold letters, formulas, and drawings that I recalled from McGonagall's lectures.
Ahem! Bill approached, clearing his throat to signal our presence. However, Tulip Karasu remained as still as a statue, her eyes glued to the pages of her textbook. Strands of her fiery hair occasionally cascaded onto the papers, but she paid them no mind, wholly absorbed in her writing.
"Tulip? Tulip Karasu?" I cautiously stepped closer to her desk, taking a deep breath before leaning in, my shadow casting itself upon her papers. Yet, once again, Tulip didn't even lift her gaze. "My name is Mia Gelider. I'm Jacob Gelider's sister. You found — and locked — his study, so I need the keys."
"I'm busy. Talk to Dennis."
Tulip gave a nonchalant shake of her head, and it was then that I noticed a hefty toad, lounging lazily as if it owned the place. But what truly caught my attention was the curious contraption affixed to its back — a small round device, forged from iron, with a star-shaped fuse. Bill's eyes widened with suspicion, his gaze shifting from Dennis to the object tethered to the toad.
"What in the name of Merlin's pants is this?"
Tulip finally lifted her eyes, casting a glance at Bill that dripped with equal parts incomprehension and disdain.
"It's not a 'what,' but a 'who.' And it's a toad, Dennis."
Bill's incredulous expression only deepened. "I know what a toad is. But what's on its back? It... it's a Dungbomb!"
Karasu smiled, and for a moment, it seemed that the devil themselves would smile like her. Her eyebrows, thick and untamed like wild shrubs, furrowed slightly as her eyes pierced through us. They were rich brown, like bark or damp soil.
Then, with a casual tap of her nail, she set off a tiny tinkling sound emanating from the Dungbomb. Ting! The air grew heavy with anticipation as we froze, listening to the eerie chime from within.
Tulip, however, wasted no time and promptly returned to work, her quill darting across the pages with remarkable speed. Underneath her nails, ink seemed to pool like vast lakes.
"You have one minute before everything here explodes into smithereens," she remarked, not addressing anyone in particular.
Bill furrowed his brow, clearly unprepared for olfactory explosions of this magnitude. "But it's a Dungbomb, not a regular explosive."
Tulip smiled. "Just wait and see."
Bill and I huddled closely over the ticking bomb, the sound of each passing second reverberating in our ears.
Tick-tock, tick-tock...
Dennis, the unsuspecting carrier of the bomb, maintained an air of serenity as he leisurely inflated his throat. He seemed entirely unfazed, while we, on the other hand, brimmed with tension.
With cautious fingers, Bill traced the cold iron surface of the Dungbomb, his touch lingering near the fuse. The timer, a homemade apparatus of a somewhat precarious nature, held our gaze. I extended my hand towards Dennis, making sure to approach him gently so as not to provoke any sudden leaps across McGonagall's classroom. The last thing we needed was a wild toad chase!
Tick-tock, tick-tock...
A worried glance passed between Bill and me. My hands quivered ever so slightly, prompting a momentary pause to collect myself. Disarming a Dungbomb couldn't be too difficult, right? Yet, an unsettling dryness crept into my throat. I watched intently as Bill and I deftly maneuvered the timer, our fingers entangling in the string, as we searched for the elusive button that would...
Tick-tock, tick-tock...
"Time is slipping away," Tulip's voice chimed in, her smile widening to resemble a chilling, theatrical mask.
Once more, we spun the bomb, our movements less discreet, driven by the urgency of the dwindling seconds. Time seemed to slip through our grasp, vanishing like leprechaun gold.
"And now, the final moments."
Thunk! Bill let out a slow exhale as if reluctantly releasing the air from his lungs. The threat of an unpleasant odor still hung in the air, but deep down, a sense of certainty washed over me. We had disarmed the bomb, just in the nick of time.
"Thank Merlin for my brothers. If it weren't for Fred and George..." Bill muttered, his voice laced with relief.
Tulip suddenly dropped her quill and, with a satisfied expression, rubbed her hand. A deep mark adorned her middle finger, accompanied by a few ink stains on her shirt sleeves. Finally! With a flick of her wand, a flurry of papers soared into the air before gracefully landing on McGonagall's desk. Tulip regarded us with a surprised look as if only just noticing our presence.
"Oh, you're still here? So, what did you think of our homemade bomb? Dennis and I made it ourselves."
Bill grunted, even his Prefect badge seeming to glimmer with irritation. I leaned closer to Tulip, but she didn't flinch, staring back at me with a mischievous smile akin to that of a joker from a deck of magical cards.
"We disarmed it," I said. "Now, will you please give me the keys to Jacob's room?"
Tulip delicately lifted Dennis by his little paws, bringing an end to his throat-inflating antics. She gracefully stroked his cold skin, and Dennis, now at ease, gazed at us with hazy eyes.
"Yes, this little bomb trick... It was merely a test for you, Mia Gelider. I'll give you my key, but I only have one. The other belongs to my accomplice."
I released a weary sigh. Another mystery? Again?
"Who's your accomplice then?"
Tulip smiled, but that smile seemed cracked, not belonging to her mischievous face — a crumpled, distorted expression. She locked eyes with me as if simultaneously issuing a challenge and seeking solace. Parting her lips, she uttered:
