The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
Summary: Parvati's Boggart is unexpected. Set in the summer between GoF and OotP and in the first week of OotP. Patil twins. 1485 words. Gen. G.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
'Ready?' Parvati lifted her wand and pointed it at the wardrobe door.
Padma nodded. 'Ready.' The wardrobe door gave an ominous creak.
'What do you think it'll be?'
'Fat Jim from the chip shop?' They giggled.
The wardrobe door rattled. Something shoved against it, testing the hinges. Parvati took a step back. 'On my signal. Three - two - one - Alohomora!'
The door burst open. Parvati glimpsed a huge hourglass, its sands almost run, before her sister banished it with a lazy 'Riddikulus!' She slammed the door shut.
They changed places.
'Ready?'
'Ready.'
'Three - two - one - Alohomora.'
Professor McGonagall lurched towards Parvati. She was dressed in stiff black bombazine, her robes perfectly starched, her hat just a little askew. Too tall for the wardrobe, Parvati realised.
'Miss Patil!' McGonagall's accent, down to a T. 'Put that wand away at once. How many times have I told you not to run around the corridor with your wand out? That's how accidents happen.'
The wand slipped from Parvati's trembling fingers and clattered on the parquet floor.
McGonagall took another step towards her. 'You silly girl! Never drop your wand.'
From a long way away she heard her sister's voice. 'Riddikulus!' McGonagall exploded into fragments and disappeared.
--
Parvati stared at the carpet as they climbed the stairs together. Eventually, as Parvati knew she would, Padma spoke.
'That was weird.'
'Right. Why an hourglass?'
It wasn't the subtlest change of subject, but she knew her sister. Padma's arms waved in the air as she worked out what to say. 'It's just the homework.'
'Too much?'
'No...' Her sister paused at their bedroom door, wrinkling her nose. 'It's just -'
'Don't wrinkle your nose. What if the wind changes?'
'You'll never find a husband looking like that!' they chorused together and tumbled into the room. Parvati threw herself down on the bed and stretched out, staring at the ceiling. 'So?'
'It's just -' Padma said again. She took a deep breath. 'We're in the middle of OWLs now, and I - I just think they should be setting us proper homework. Ten inches of parchment on Bafflement Charms, twenty-four uses of mandrake root in magical tonics - it's just copying out the textbook. There's some really interesting stuff in the Library but we never get to do any of it properly. There's never enough time.' She paused. 'Professor Trelawney's the only one who sets proper homework.'
'Professor Trelawney never marks anything, though.'
'She probably doesn't need to. Your turn.'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know.'
'Nope.'
'Your Boggart is your Head of House and you don't know?' Padma's voice was incredulous. 'Did you do something? At the end of last year?' Parvati shook her head. 'Maybe we can get you transferred into Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick is really sweet. I can't imagine being scared of him.'
'I'm not scared of Professor McGonagall.'
'Are you scared of going back?' Padma lowered her voice, as if afraid of being overheard. 'What Harry said - I heard them talking in the kitchen on Thursday. Mum was saying we should stay here this year, do our OWLs at home. Aunty Abhaya could teach us. '
'No.' Parvati tossed her head. 'I'd go mental if I had to stay at home. I'd probably run off with Fat Jim, just to get away.' She lifted her hand to her hair, teasing it straight.
'That would be good. I could come round to yours and eat chips all day.' Padma sighed. 'I'd get even fatter than I am already.'
Parvati rolled over and smirked at her twin. 'Impossible.'
--
Back at Hogwarts, every free minute was devoted to scrutinising McGonagall. By the end of the first week, Parvati felt she could spend the rest of her life as a successful McGonagall impersonator. She'd learned the dry rustle of the Professor's cloak at her heels, the tiny cough before McGonagall addressed a student, even the minutest pause in McGonagall's step before the woman disappeared and the spectacled tabby sauntered round the corner.
She stared down at her plate at breakfast, aware of every move made by her Head of House. McGonagall's fork hesitated above the poached egg. Descended on the sausage. Parvati bit her tongue. You do the same thing every day, she wanted to scream. Be daring. Eat the bacon first. You're Head of Gryffindor! Porridge next. Always salt, never cream. Tea steeped for two minutes thirty-six seconds.
She dropped her teaspoon in shock when McGonagall poured a second glass of orange juice.
McGonagall cleared her throat. Parvati froze.
'Miss Patil!' At the Ravenclaw table, Padma clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. 'Miss Parvati Patil.' Parvati dragged her head up to meet McGonagall's gaze. 'My office please. After breakfast.'
Somehow, Parvati managed a nod.
--
McGonagall's office was chilly and there were no photographs anywhere, not one. Parvati perched on the edge of the oak carver and stared around her in misery. I don't want to end up like this, she decided. Cold and alone, no friends and family. Spinster. She played with the word on the tip of her tongue and didn't like it.
And now the most terrifying witch of the age was staring at her, gimlet-eyed. 'Miss Patil. Have a biscuit.'
Parvati wasn't hungry, but she took the biscuit anyway, clutching it in both hands like a squirrel.
'Now then. What seems to be the problem?'
'The problem, Professor McGonagall?'
'What's troubling you?'
'Troubling me?'
McGonagall sighed. 'Miss Patil, if I wanted to listen to myself, I'd buy an Everlasting Echo. Every time I see you, you almost jump out of your skin. Are you having problems with the other students?'
'The other - no, Professor.' A huge flake of ginger biscuit detached itself and fell onto the carpet. Parvati stared at it in horror.
McGonagall pushed a plate across the desk. 'Put the biscuit down, child, and stop worrying at it. Is it something at home?' Parvati shook her head. 'So what is it, Miss Patil?'
'I -' Parvati stopped. How did you tell your Head of House that she was your Boggart?
McGonagall waited long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable, and then a little longer after that. Pulling a pile of papers towards her, she leafed through them. Parvati wriggled on her seat.
'The Sorting Hat wasn't quite sure where to put you,' MGonagall said in a conversational tone. Parvati stopped wriggling. This is it, she told herself, I'm going to be kicked out of Gryffindor.
'You're the first in your family to be in Gryffindor, aren't you, Miss Patil?'
Parvati nodded. So this is how people end up in Hufflepuff.
'Take Miss Granger, now.' McGonagall shuffled the papers into a pile and squared off the edges. 'The cleverest witch of her generation, I've heard them say. She would have been a success in Ravenclaw. But she had that something else - the little bit extra that made the Hat put her in Gryffindor. And your friend, Miss Brown.' MGonagall's voice became dry. 'Study is not Miss Brown's priority at the moment. Her head is full of boys. But she has the heart of a lion and I'm pleased to have her in my House. She came to see me last night. She's worried about you, Miss Patil.'
Parvati's jaw dropped. She stared at McGonagall, speechless.
McGonagall picked up a quill and looked at it thoughtfully. 'You would have been an excellent Ravenclaw. Your Professors speak highly of you and your Transfigurations work is outstanding. A family talent there, I think; your father was one of my most able students. I've followed his career with a great deal of interest. You have not, yourself, decided which path to follow, have you?'
'No, Professor. I -'
'That's good to hear.' And now McGonagall's smile seemed to warm the room. 'With your brains and character you'll have plenty of choices. Don't make them until you're ready. It's a pleasure to have you in Gryffindor, my dear. Filius was very put out when you were Sorted.' McGonagall stood up. 'It's half-past nine. I shouldn't be surprised if that sister of yours is waiting in the corridor. Sybill won't have missed you yet, so I suggest you get along to Divination before she remembers to take her register.'
--
Padma was curled up on the window seat at the end of the corridor. Her bangles tinkled as she rose to her feet and rushed towards Parvati. 'Are you okay? Did you get into trouble?'
Parvati shook her head. 'It's all right. Everything's okay.' And it is, she realised. Even if He's back. Even if Harry only asked me out because he couldn't get Cho Chang. Whatever happens, I'll deal with it when it does.
'But the Boggart - '
'Stuff the Boggart.' Parvati said. She watched Padma's eyes widen, and crushed her twin to her in a hug that made Padma squeak. 'Didn't I tell you? I'm a Gryffindor.'
--
Notes: written for femgenficathon and posted there on 22 October 2009. The prompt was #53: "My good friend, enough of cruelty, enough;/ let brutal jealousy no more torment you,/nor let low fears your mind's peace countermand/ with foolish fantasies, with empty signs" -- Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651-1695), Mexican nun, scholar, poet and Baroque author. Thanks to fpb, ignipes and winding_path for beta-reading and also to gehayi for running the fest in the first place.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
'Ready?' Parvati lifted her wand and pointed it at the wardrobe door.
Padma nodded. 'Ready.' The wardrobe door gave an ominous creak.
'What do you think it'll be?'
'Fat Jim from the chip shop?' They giggled.
The wardrobe door rattled. Something shoved against it, testing the hinges. Parvati took a step back. 'On my signal. Three - two - one - Alohomora!'
The door burst open. Parvati glimpsed a huge hourglass, its sands almost run, before her sister banished it with a lazy 'Riddikulus!' She slammed the door shut.
They changed places.
'Ready?'
'Ready.'
'Three - two - one - Alohomora.'
Professor McGonagall lurched towards Parvati. She was dressed in stiff black bombazine, her robes perfectly starched, her hat just a little askew. Too tall for the wardrobe, Parvati realised.
'Miss Patil!' McGonagall's accent, down to a T. 'Put that wand away at once. How many times have I told you not to run around the corridor with your wand out? That's how accidents happen.'
The wand slipped from Parvati's trembling fingers and clattered on the parquet floor.
McGonagall took another step towards her. 'You silly girl! Never drop your wand.'
From a long way away she heard her sister's voice. 'Riddikulus!' McGonagall exploded into fragments and disappeared.
--
Parvati stared at the carpet as they climbed the stairs together. Eventually, as Parvati knew she would, Padma spoke.
'That was weird.'
'Right. Why an hourglass?'
It wasn't the subtlest change of subject, but she knew her sister. Padma's arms waved in the air as she worked out what to say. 'It's just the homework.'
'Too much?'
'No...' Her sister paused at their bedroom door, wrinkling her nose. 'It's just -'
'Don't wrinkle your nose. What if the wind changes?'
'You'll never find a husband looking like that!' they chorused together and tumbled into the room. Parvati threw herself down on the bed and stretched out, staring at the ceiling. 'So?'
'It's just -' Padma said again. She took a deep breath. 'We're in the middle of OWLs now, and I - I just think they should be setting us proper homework. Ten inches of parchment on Bafflement Charms, twenty-four uses of mandrake root in magical tonics - it's just copying out the textbook. There's some really interesting stuff in the Library but we never get to do any of it properly. There's never enough time.' She paused. 'Professor Trelawney's the only one who sets proper homework.'
'Professor Trelawney never marks anything, though.'
'She probably doesn't need to. Your turn.'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know.'
'Nope.'
'Your Boggart is your Head of House and you don't know?' Padma's voice was incredulous. 'Did you do something? At the end of last year?' Parvati shook her head. 'Maybe we can get you transferred into Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick is really sweet. I can't imagine being scared of him.'
'I'm not scared of Professor McGonagall.'
'Are you scared of going back?' Padma lowered her voice, as if afraid of being overheard. 'What Harry said - I heard them talking in the kitchen on Thursday. Mum was saying we should stay here this year, do our OWLs at home. Aunty Abhaya could teach us. '
'No.' Parvati tossed her head. 'I'd go mental if I had to stay at home. I'd probably run off with Fat Jim, just to get away.' She lifted her hand to her hair, teasing it straight.
'That would be good. I could come round to yours and eat chips all day.' Padma sighed. 'I'd get even fatter than I am already.'
Parvati rolled over and smirked at her twin. 'Impossible.'
--
Back at Hogwarts, every free minute was devoted to scrutinising McGonagall. By the end of the first week, Parvati felt she could spend the rest of her life as a successful McGonagall impersonator. She'd learned the dry rustle of the Professor's cloak at her heels, the tiny cough before McGonagall addressed a student, even the minutest pause in McGonagall's step before the woman disappeared and the spectacled tabby sauntered round the corner.
She stared down at her plate at breakfast, aware of every move made by her Head of House. McGonagall's fork hesitated above the poached egg. Descended on the sausage. Parvati bit her tongue. You do the same thing every day, she wanted to scream. Be daring. Eat the bacon first. You're Head of Gryffindor! Porridge next. Always salt, never cream. Tea steeped for two minutes thirty-six seconds.
She dropped her teaspoon in shock when McGonagall poured a second glass of orange juice.
McGonagall cleared her throat. Parvati froze.
'Miss Patil!' At the Ravenclaw table, Padma clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. 'Miss Parvati Patil.' Parvati dragged her head up to meet McGonagall's gaze. 'My office please. After breakfast.'
Somehow, Parvati managed a nod.
--
McGonagall's office was chilly and there were no photographs anywhere, not one. Parvati perched on the edge of the oak carver and stared around her in misery. I don't want to end up like this, she decided. Cold and alone, no friends and family. Spinster. She played with the word on the tip of her tongue and didn't like it.
And now the most terrifying witch of the age was staring at her, gimlet-eyed. 'Miss Patil. Have a biscuit.'
Parvati wasn't hungry, but she took the biscuit anyway, clutching it in both hands like a squirrel.
'Now then. What seems to be the problem?'
'The problem, Professor McGonagall?'
'What's troubling you?'
'Troubling me?'
McGonagall sighed. 'Miss Patil, if I wanted to listen to myself, I'd buy an Everlasting Echo. Every time I see you, you almost jump out of your skin. Are you having problems with the other students?'
'The other - no, Professor.' A huge flake of ginger biscuit detached itself and fell onto the carpet. Parvati stared at it in horror.
McGonagall pushed a plate across the desk. 'Put the biscuit down, child, and stop worrying at it. Is it something at home?' Parvati shook her head. 'So what is it, Miss Patil?'
'I -' Parvati stopped. How did you tell your Head of House that she was your Boggart?
McGonagall waited long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable, and then a little longer after that. Pulling a pile of papers towards her, she leafed through them. Parvati wriggled on her seat.
'The Sorting Hat wasn't quite sure where to put you,' MGonagall said in a conversational tone. Parvati stopped wriggling. This is it, she told herself, I'm going to be kicked out of Gryffindor.
'You're the first in your family to be in Gryffindor, aren't you, Miss Patil?'
Parvati nodded. So this is how people end up in Hufflepuff.
'Take Miss Granger, now.' McGonagall shuffled the papers into a pile and squared off the edges. 'The cleverest witch of her generation, I've heard them say. She would have been a success in Ravenclaw. But she had that something else - the little bit extra that made the Hat put her in Gryffindor. And your friend, Miss Brown.' MGonagall's voice became dry. 'Study is not Miss Brown's priority at the moment. Her head is full of boys. But she has the heart of a lion and I'm pleased to have her in my House. She came to see me last night. She's worried about you, Miss Patil.'
Parvati's jaw dropped. She stared at McGonagall, speechless.
McGonagall picked up a quill and looked at it thoughtfully. 'You would have been an excellent Ravenclaw. Your Professors speak highly of you and your Transfigurations work is outstanding. A family talent there, I think; your father was one of my most able students. I've followed his career with a great deal of interest. You have not, yourself, decided which path to follow, have you?'
'No, Professor. I -'
'That's good to hear.' And now McGonagall's smile seemed to warm the room. 'With your brains and character you'll have plenty of choices. Don't make them until you're ready. It's a pleasure to have you in Gryffindor, my dear. Filius was very put out when you were Sorted.' McGonagall stood up. 'It's half-past nine. I shouldn't be surprised if that sister of yours is waiting in the corridor. Sybill won't have missed you yet, so I suggest you get along to Divination before she remembers to take her register.'
--
Padma was curled up on the window seat at the end of the corridor. Her bangles tinkled as she rose to her feet and rushed towards Parvati. 'Are you okay? Did you get into trouble?'
Parvati shook her head. 'It's all right. Everything's okay.' And it is, she realised. Even if He's back. Even if Harry only asked me out because he couldn't get Cho Chang. Whatever happens, I'll deal with it when it does.
'But the Boggart - '
'Stuff the Boggart.' Parvati said. She watched Padma's eyes widen, and crushed her twin to her in a hug that made Padma squeak. 'Didn't I tell you? I'm a Gryffindor.'
--
Notes: written for femgenficathon and posted there on 22 October 2009. The prompt was #53: "My good friend, enough of cruelty, enough;/ let brutal jealousy no more torment you,/nor let low fears your mind's peace countermand/ with foolish fantasies, with empty signs" -- Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651-1695), Mexican nun, scholar, poet and Baroque author. Thanks to fpb, ignipes and winding_path for beta-reading and also to gehayi for running the fest in the first place.