ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Nineteen. The Stolen Prophet.

Sean wolfed down his lunch at top speed on the first day of the new term. He was determined to spend a few solid minutes in the library preparing for the second task. He and Evelyn had spent the remainder of break pouring through books again, searching for any spell that might be useful, any tidbit that could save his life, or at least spare him a few seconds of panic. The dread had not truly begun to sink in until that morning, however. He had written the date for the first time since break had begun a few weeks previously, scratching it down in neat numerals on the top of his notes in that morning's lesson: 12 January. The month was near half gone already.

And the task was the first weekend of February.

Worst of all was that Quidditch practices started again the next week, and he knew Marlowe would not let him skip out.

In under five minutes, Sean was slinging his bag over his shoulder again. "Are you coming, Ev?" he asked, clambering over the bench.

She looked up startled. She'd only just finished cutting her chicken. "I-"

"Never mind," he said. "It's fine. I'll see you later." He strode off, checking his watch. He could get a good twenty minutes in if he walked fast. The library was not far from his next lesson. He had just finished rereading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and was hoping to peruse a few volumes with more in depth information of the native creatures of each school's area of Europe. This had been Evelyn's brilliant idea, apparently based on something she had overheard Mr. Fenwick let slip at the ball about "national representation" and "recognizing our differences as our strengths."

---

Back at the Ravenclaw table, Caiti watched Sean go, her brow creased and her chin tucked back. She picked up the salt shaker and sprinkled some on her green beans. "You know, you don't have to help him all the time. He's the one who was an idiot and entered the tournament in the first place," she said to Evelyn.

"Hey!" said Marlowe, shoving her playfully. Caiti ignored him.

"I mean it. You're his best friend and you're his girlfriend, but you are not his tutor."

"I know, I know," Evelyn sighed, stabbing her chicken. "I just want to support him."

"And you do. And he knows that. Just don't forget you have things to do of your own. He may not have to take exams at the end of the year, but you do." Caiti snatched a crisp of Marlowe's plate. (She felt better pretending she wasn't eating them. If they were not actually on her plate, it didn't count.)

He swatted her hand away and said, "Get your own."

"He's taking them anyway," Evelyn said to Caiti. "He thinks N.E.W.T.'s are too important to skip. And it makes sense. I mean, eventually, employers will care more what subjects he passed than whether or not he was a Triwizard Champion, though that's certainly a good boost for his resume."

"You overachievers wear me out," said Caiti. She stole another crisp. "I'm just trying to be decent at one thing."

"Decent," snorted Marlowe. This time, he scooped up some of the crisps and put them on Caiti's plate.

"But anyway, back to the point," she said. She picked up the crisps and put them back on Marlowe's plate. She took one back and popped it in her mouth. Marlowe looked exasperated. "Don't feel like you have to do it for him. If you want to go to bed or write your own essay or eat your lunch at a healthy pace, you do it. And if he gets mad about it, I'll be having a word with him. You're doing too much already and he'd better appreciate you."

"He does," said Evelyn quietly.

"Well you let me know if he's an idiot, alright?"

One side of Evelyn's lips quirked up. "Will do," she said.