All the Wrong Choices

I closed my door and leaned against it, slowly pulling the numerous bobby pins out of my hair in preparation for bed, letting my silver-blonde hair fall down my shoulders. I would head back home tomorrow – back to my comfy, quiet little cottage – and do the only thing that I was good at: teaching astronomy.

I wasn't startled but surprised to hear a soft knock on my door. I stood to my feet as quickly as my old bones would allow and opened the door, revealing a tired looking Hermione on the other side. She greeted me with a small, sad smile.

“Miss Granger,” I spoke quietly, “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to apologize on behalf of Ron,” Hermione spoke clearly, her brown eyes clear, “What he said, that wasn't like him, but that doesn't make it any better. I just want to let you know that, regardless of how Ron truly feels, Harry and I have faith in you – and that we trust you.”

“Well, I appreciate that. But it might be wise to listen to your friend there.”

“I don't know why Dumbledore brought you into this,” Hermione added quickly, “And it's clear you aren't too sure, either. But regardless of why he did it, he did it for a reason. And we trust Dumbledore's decisions.”

“I'm… glad to hear that, Hermione.” I just wanted to shut my door.

“Professor Longwood?”

“Yes?”

“Could I ask you something?”

“I can't guarantee an answer.”

“You and Volde – um, Tom – you were in love, weren't you?”

I watched Hermione, a lousy shrug rolling off of my shoulders.

“I believe we were.” I said. “I was in love, at least.”

“How did you meet?”

I smiled for the first time in a week at the thought.


I finished my last round of the pub, swept the floors and wiped all of the tables once more before sitting back on the stool behind the counter tops, kicking my feet up and opening my copy of A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions. That hadn't been my idea of a fun Saturday night but I had an exam on Monday and my father might have just ripped my head off if I wasn't prepared for it.

There was the guilt trip. “Quit wasting poor Edith Butterworth's time and my money,” I could hear him nagging now, “I pay to have her come to this house every single weekday to teach you the materials necessary for your survival in this world and how do you repay us? By failing every examination.”

Ah, and then there were the threats. “Your Aunt Rosmerta and I allow you to work at her inn so you can have some gist of a normal life and make friends. If you can't keep up with your studies then I don't think you deserve to work at the inn.”

It was quiet in the pub, save for a few jumps here and there from the inn upstairs and a few bumps from the basement underneath. Must have been another family of bandicoots seeking a warm place for the cold winter night.

I learned that wasn't the case, however, when the trap door in the floor budged. I nearly fell off of my stool and quickly grabbed my wand from my back pocket, holding it at the ready and sweating almost profusely – this was the most action I had ever encountered in my fifteen years of life.

Three boys came crawling out of the door, murmuring and laughing amongst themselves. They were all well kept and around my age; certainly not squatters. They didn't seem to take any notice of me and chatted excitedly.

“Hold it!” I exclaimed shakily, pointing my wand at the boy who appeared to be the ringleader. “Who are you? Are you aware that you're trespassing on private property?”

“Bloody hell, Avery – you said the Three Broomsticks closed at eleven.” A tall boy with pale skin, jet black hair and dark eyes spat at one of his croonies.

“The pub does, not the inn,” I responded curtly, “What business do you have here?” I held my wand directly at the black-haired boy, not knowing what I would actually do with it if the opportunity came.

“We were just going for a late night stroll.” 'Avery' responded.

“If you had any plans of taking money from this establishment you're sorely mistaken. I couldn't even tell you where it's kept after hours.” The three boys looked at each other before smiling.

“We were just being punks and coming to Hogsmeade after hours. See, we're from Hogwarts–” The third boy explained, earning a glare from the black-haired boy and an elbow to his side.

“Shut your mouth, Lestrange.”

“Sorry, Tom.”

“Hogwarts?” I asked, my eyes lighting up as I lowered my wand. “School of witchcraft and wizardry?” The boy glanced between me and his black-haired friend 'Tom' before nodding.

“Don't you know what that is?” Lestrange asked.

“Of course I know what it is.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You don't go–”

“Enough chit-chat. Look, if we leave will you let this slide and not tell the headmaster about us being here?” Tom asked. I raised my wand once more and pointed it at him, feeling overall uneasy about him. “Would you put that thing down?”

“How did you get here?” I asked.

“Do you honestly think I would tell you?” Tom said with a roll of his eyes.

“If you don't want to be cursed, yes. This is a public safety issue.” Tom raised his own wand at this, causing Avery and Lestrange to quickly stand before him. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, or where this sudden confidence was coming from, but I didn't put my wand down.

“There's no reason for this, Tom. Just let it go.” Avery mumbled.

“There's a passageway underneath the floorboards that leads to all the shops in Hogsmeade and to and from Hogwarts. May we go now before our friend here has an aneurysm?” Lestrange added.

“On one more condition.” I said.

“What?” Lestrange asked.

“I want to see Hogwarts.”

“You want to see Hogwarts? You didn't attend?”

“Do I look that old?” I snapped. “I'm homeschooled.” Avery and Lestrange exchanged a glance between each other. Tom looked as if he was about to blow up, his face a sickly crimson red color.

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

“Well, what makes you think we would bring you back anyways?”

“Because I'll alert your headmaster of your late night festivities if you don't. I've got the exact coordinates of his office right around here somewhere and an owl that is just dying for something to do.”

“You can't just threaten us–”

“Can it, Avery. I'll do it.” Tom spoke up, lowering his wand.

“You can't. What if someone finds out?”

“I'm a Prefect. No one will say anything to me.”

“I’m glad we were able to work something out. Let me grab my purse.”

“What do you need that for? There’s no concession stand.” Avery said.

“She’s a girl, Avery. Don’t question it.” Lestrange argued.

I followed the boys under the floorboard, possibly against my better judgment but my desire to see Hogwarts was almost insatiable. Avery walked behind me, Lestrange next to me, Tom walking in long strides before us.

“So, what’s your name?” Avery asked.

“Nora Jane Longwood.” I responded coolly.

“Why don’t you attend Hogwarts?” Lestrange asked.

“Yeah. Are you daft or something?” I stopped in my tracks to look at Avery.

“You’re the daft one asking a lady that.” I glared at him before walking again. “To answer your question, Lestrange, my parents didn’t want to send me there.”

“Why?” Lestrange asked.

“You ask a lot of questions.” I noted.

“If not Hogwarts, why not Durmstrang or Beauxbatons?”

“They’re afraid of Grindelwald.” I swore I heard Tom snort as I admitted this.

“What does Grindelwald have to do with your schooling?” Avery asked.

“Can it, Avery. We’re nearing school grounds.” Tom demanded.