The Fomorian Plague

The Fomorian Plague
Chapter One: Wear Your Hair Long

“Gracie! Gracie!”

Gracie Lewis mumbled in her sleep and turned over.

“Gracie! Get up this instant! You should have been up hours ago. Mistress Lewis wants you to help prepare luncheon.” The Lewis family maid bustled into the spacious room, parting the heavy drapes that had been blocking the late morning daylight. Gracie groaned and squinted as the light fell across her large bed.

“Go away, Rosalind. I’m tired.”

“Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have stayed up so late staring at the sky. You’ve had a few extra hours of sleep; now it’s time to get up!” Rosalind tugged the heavy cover off the girl, and tossed a work dress at her. “Get dressed.”

Gracie scowled but obligingly sat up and swapped her bedclothes for the dress.

“Why do I have to help anyway?” she argued as she tugged the dress over her head. “That’s what we have you and Lucille for. And you know I’m awful at cooking.”

“Precisely. Your mother feels cooking is a skill every young girl--despite whether she has money enough for maids or not-- should know. You’ve never been very accomplished at domestic things, dear.”

Gracie harrumphed in a very unladylike way as she pulled her tangled black hair into a bun without even bothering to brush it first. “It’s not a skill I’ll need to know. You and mother may waste your lives with this boring lady stuff, but I am going to do something more exciting.”

Rosalind smiled sadly. “As long as you wear your hair so long, this is as exciting as it gets, my dear. Come along now.”

Gracie didn’t say anything at Rosalind’s familiar aphorism, but silently cursed being born the wrong gender. Boys got to have all the fun and excitement.

* * * * *

Forty minutes and a dozen or so small disasters later, Gracie lifted a gilded tray and glided expertly into the parlour where her mother was entertaining a couple society ladies. Her mother looked up when she entered and looked over her appearance with distaste. Gracie knew she should have cleaned up a bit before serving the refreshments, but was too tired to bother. Her mother would just have to put up with her dishevelled appearance.

“Thank you, Grace. Set that down and say hello to the ladies, dear.” Anne Lewis smiled charmingly but Gracie knew that look in her mother’s eyes meant there would be lecturing later. The chattering women gathered in the parlour didn’t seem to notice and immediately stopped their discussion about the baker’s wife and the blacksmith to fuss over Gracie.

“Oh, Gracie, dear! Look at how you’ve grown!”

“Just look at those lovely lashes! You’ll have all the boys wanting to stare into those blue eyes, love.”

“My goodness, you’re so thin! I can’t even remember the last time I looked like that.”

The ladies all tittered and Gracie smiled stiffly at their exclamations. It was the same routine every time, and Gracie always wondered why they bothered. She was still short and scrawny, and locks escaping from her bun hung in front of her eyes.

Gracie excused herself quickly and went back to the kitchen. If all ladies ever did was gossip and lavish praise on each other despite what they really thought, she certainly didn’t want to be one.

“Yes, the widow has company until three o’clock. Do stay a minute, Gracie will want to see you.” Lucille’s voice carried out to the hallway and Gracie paused. Lucille and Rosalind always referred to her mother as ‘the widow’ out of her presence. Richard Lewis had died years ago and Gracie barely remembered him. She didn’t even know how he died; the servants refused to tell her, no matter how much she begged.

Gracie grinned and decided she would try Lucille again today. The elderly woman had nearly told her the last time she asked but was stopped by Rosalind. Gracie marched into the kitchen, fully prepared to argue.

“Hello there, Madam!” A tall, balding man was waiting at the kitchen table and Gracie instantly forgot her plan to confront Lucille.

“Winston!” Gracie rushed to give him a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Tuesday, sweetie. Lost track of the days, have you?” Winston laughed and ruffled her hair. He delivered groceries, and every Tuesday dropped off the weekly supplies for the Lewis manor.

Gracie sat in a chair next to him and nodded. “There’s no need to keep track of the days in the summer. But there’s only two weeks left of that.” She propped her elbows on the table and laid her head glumly on her hands.

“What’s the matter with school?” Lucille asked, wiping her hands on her apron and taking a seat across from Gracie.

“They’re so strict there. Girls should do this, and can’t do that. We don’t learn anything interesting.”

Winston smiled sympathetically and was about to say some words of comfort when a rather high-pitched shriek cut him off. Rosalind came dashing in the kitchen a second later. She grabbed a broom and swung wildly. Gracie thought the maid had gone mad until she saw a grey puff of feathers dodging the broom.

“What is that?” she cried, leaping up.

“A flying rat!” Rosalind hollered, taking another swing. The flying rat swooped out of the way and landed on Gracie’s shoulder, hooting indignantly. Rosalind put down the broom and everyone stared silently for a full minute.

“It’s an owl,” Winston finally managed.

“Ah, I think it has something for you dear,” Lucille said, pointing at the owl’s left leg. A large leather pouch was tied to it and the owl was hooting excitedly at Gracie. Gracie carefully held her hand out and the owl hopped onto her fingers.

“Pet it, and keep it calm. I’ll get whatever is in the bag,” Winston said, edging towards Gracie.

“It’s not a dog,” she replied, but did as she was told anyway. The owl’s ruffled state seemed to be soothed at her touch and Winston easily extracted a folded envelope from the pouch.

“ ‘Gracie Lewis, second largest bedroom on the second floor, Lewis Manor, London.’” Winston arched an eyebrow. “That’s a frighteningly accurate address. Here, Gracie, open it.”

Gracie handed the owl off to Rosalind (who looked less than pleased about it), and carefully slit the envelope open with her nails.

Dear Miss Lewis,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You have been identified as a child gifted with magical aptitude and are urged to attend Hogwarts to refine your powers. You will spend seven years studying various subjects that will help you to become a fully developed witch.

A list of supplies you will need for the school year is enclosed. These supplies may be obtained in Diagon Alley, London (directions are written on the back on this letter).

Transportation to the castle from Diagon Alley will be provided on the first of September. We hope to see you then!

Assistant Headmistress Arachne Blaire

Gracie’s jaw dropped. She reread the letter and blinked rapidly to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Yes, she read correctly-- according to this letter, she was a witch. A witch. Gracie shrieked delightedly before she could stop herself. Nothing could be more exciting than a school of magic!

“Well?” Rosalind asked impatiently, trying unsuccessfully to snatch the letter from the dancing and squealing eleven-year-old. Gracie handed her the letter as she positively bounced with excitement. Rosalind scanned it, Winston and Lucille reading over her shoulder. Simultaneously they looked up and stared at Gracie disbelievingly.

“Well,” Winston began, always the first to break an awkward silence. “Your mother is going to faint dead way when she finds out.”

Gracie grinned even wider. “So you believe it? I’m a witch?”

“Makes sense, as much as it goes against all that the church says,” Lucille said. “You’re certainly not the devil in a grubby dress.”

“Though she can put old Lucifer to shame when she’s waking up,” Rosalind commented. “But, yes, we aren’t as surprised as we should be. It certainly explains all the odd mishaps that seem to follow you around.”

“Such as the time you somehow managed to set Rosalind’s broom on fire when we tried to get you to clean your room.”

“Or that time all of my vegetables disappeared when you threw a fit about the greens your mother ordered,” Winston added. “Fussy little thing you are.”

Gracie sniffed indignantly. “I was five! I am much more mature now.”

“Yes, yes. Now she can curse them away without throwing a fit first!” Rosalind said, laughing and waving the letter. The owl flew off her arm and hooted softly. It didn’t need to stay around now that the charmed letter had the Muggles accepting the girl’s magical aptitude. It swooped through the door that led to the grounds, unnoticed by the jovial party in the Lewis manor kitchen.

* * * * *

“You’re a what?” Anne’s voice was deadly.

“A witch, mother. You know, devilry and midnight spell casting.” Gracie smiled sweetly at her mother. Rosalind poked her sharply.

“That isn’t helping,” she hissed.

“Oh, mother, it can’t be that bad! There’s a whole school for witches and wizards, which means there’s a whole world of them right under our noses!”

Anne’s lips pursed into a thin line and she smoothed her skirts as she slowly answered in a calm and stern tone. “Obviously a hoax. You are not a witch and I never want to hear such blasphemy from you again.”

“Mother!” Gracie shouted, stamping her foot. She glared at her mother, eyes blazing with fury. Suddenly a vase near Anne’s left arm exploded, sending water and flower petals showering over the woman. Anne mouthed noiselessly, her eyes wide with shock.

And fainted dead away with a tiny shriek.

“I think that went well,” Winston said, stooping over the manor’s mistress. “Nothing unexpected happened. We’ll just let her lie down for a bit, pour her plenty of brandy when she comes to, and make off with her chequebook to Diagon Alley.”

“That should do it,” Gracie agreed, helping Winston settle her mother on the sofa. “Meanwhile, anyone up for a game of chess?”

* * * * *

As it turned out, they didn’t need the brandy after all. Anne resignedly gave up her pocketbook and told them to do whatever they pleased, but to keep her out of it. Gracie agreed readily and begged Winston, Lucille, and Rosalind to take her to Diagon Alley right away.

“Of course! This is more fun than I‘ve had in years.” Winston smiled. “Just let me hitch up the carriage, and meet you out front.”

“I want to help you,” Gracie said, walking with him to the backyard. Winston chuckled, and shook his head. Within a short while they had hitched Gracie’s favourite horse (a beautiful mare named King Richard), and rode around to the front of the columned manor to pick up Rosalind and Lucille.

They were soon on the last street before Diagon Alley but were having trouble locating a landmark the directions indicated.

“I don’t see a Leaky Cauldron anywhere,” Rosalind grumbled, shifting in her seat.

“It’s not an actual cauldron, it’s a place,” Gracie said. “An inn or pub.”

“Well, whatever it is, I don’t see it.”

Gracie scowled and leaned out the carriage door, scanning the stores on either side of the street.

“Looking for the Cauldron, dearie?”

Gracie nearly fell out of the carriage. An elderly woman wearing peculiar clothes was standing before her. Gracie was sure there had been no one remotely near the carriage just a moment ago.

“Yes, we are. Only it seems we’ve got the wrong street.”

The woman smirked, and pointed across the street. “Right there.”

They all looked and realized there was a building they had never noticed before, right between two of the shops they had just looked over.

“Thank you, madam,” Winston said, turning back towards the old woman. “They wouldn’t happen to have somewhere safe to keep the carriage and horse, would they?”

The woman looked around, making sure no one was near. “A simple concealing charm should keep it safe. Come on out, and stand around me so the Muggles don’t see.”

They followed her orders though were slightly baffled at the term “Muggle.” Gracie watched her intently, eager to see what a witch could do. The witch smiled at her and pulled a long piece of wood from her sleeve.

“A wand,” Gracie breathed. The woman nodded and muttered something under her breath. The horse and carriage faded quickly.

“Now, you’re off to buy your things for Hogwarts?” The woman waited for Gracie to affirm her question. “All right, then you’ll be getting your wand. When you’re finished with your shopping, just point your wand at this spot and say ‘Reperio’ and it should appear again.”

“Thank you,” Gracie said gratefully. Rosalind cleared her throat pointedly. “Oh, I forgot. I’m Gracie, and these are Winston, Rosalind, and Lucille.”

“Charmed. I’m Arachne Blaire. I teach at Hogwarts so I shall be seeing a lot of you this year, Gracie.”

“You’re a Hogwarts professor? What class do you teach? What’s the castle like? Are there lots of children there? Do they all find out they’re magic when they’re eleven like me? What do you do at Hogwarts?” Gracie’s string of questions ceased only when she paused for breath.

Professor Blaire laughed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find those things out when you get to Hogwarts like everyone else. I can show you the way to Diagon Alley though. Come along.”

She led the way to the pub and quickly navigated through it and out a side door. The alley beside the building was blocked by a brick wall, but Professor Blaire tapped her wand on a brick, and the wall folded into itself to reveal a large bustling street beyond it.

“Welcome to your new world, Gracie,” she said, ushering them through the opening. “See you at Hogwarts!”

They waved at the professor as the wall closed up again and then looked around to take in the street. Gracie, usually never satisfied, was awed. This was the life she wanted.

“First things first,” Lucille said after she got over her unusual surroundings. “We need to go to the bank. The money I saw those people in the pub handing the bartender was certainly not in pound notes.”

The next three hours were spent asking people where they could buy certain things on Gracie’s list and actually purchasing parchment, quills, spell books, and the like. Finally the only thing left was the wand. Gracie had insisted they buy it last.

“All right, ready for Ollivander’s?” Winston asked. Rosalind and Lucille had begged off the last errand, claiming they wanted to have a rest in the pub before heading home.

“Yes!” Gracie took off running to the shop a kindly wizard had pointed out earlier. Winston sprinted and caught up with her easily at the shop’s door. He held the door open and Gracie stepped in.

The shop was nearly anticlimactic to Gracie‘s expectations. It was dark and dreary and reminded her of the Lewis manor’s attic. There were boxes piled everywhere and a slight man was working busily behind a huge wooden desk. He looked up as they walked in and smiled pleasantly.

“Hello, come in! I’ll just be a moment. Storing some cores until I need them.”

Gracie and Winston watched as the man carefully placed some wispy strands of hair in a jar, bright feathers in another, and claws in a third. He then set the jars aside and stood up.

“Welcome to Ollivander’s. I am Mr. Ollivander and you, I presume, are a new Hogwarts student.”

Gracie nodded. “My name’s Gracie Lewis.”

“Well, Gracie Lewis, which is your wand arm?”

“My what?”

“When you hold the wand, which hand are you likely to be holding it with?”

“She favours her left,” Winston put in. “What makes the wands magic?”

Mr. Ollivander smiled broadly. “A curious Muggle, how delightful! Usually they eye me like I’m about to sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons.”

“You should be thankful my mother didn’t come along,” Gracie muttered. Ollivander ignored her and rattled on.

“Each of Ollivander’s wands are handcrafted and contain a powerful core. The core is always taken from a magical creature, though these days cores are usually a hair from a unicorn, a dragon’s heartstring, or a phoenix feather. Soon that’s all we’ll be using, as they‘re the easiest to come by. But I still have a few with sphinx fur, Merpeople hair, winged horse feathers and such.”

“How do you decide which one to give me?” Gracie asked.

“I don’t. The wand chooses the wizard-- or the witch. You just swish them around until you pick the right one. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The wizard began bustling around the piles of boxes, tossing one now and then to Gracie to test.

“Rosewood, ten inches, unicorn hair.”

Gracie waved it with a flourish but Ollivander snatched it back immediately.

“Try this. Pine, ten and a half inches, dragon heartstring. No? Hmm.”

After the boxes began piling up around Gracie’s feet, Mr. Ollivander disappeared to the very back of the shop.

“Here, try this. Yew, fourteen inches, quite rigid. Dragon heartstring core. Excellent for duelling. I usually wouldn’t sell a duelling wand to an eleven-year-old but we‘ll see how it suits you.”

Gracie waved it around and a blast sent Ollivander and Winston both flying. She grinned.

“I think we’ve found a match,” Mr. Ollivander said, wincing as he picked himself up.

* * * * *

The two weeks until September first seemed like forever to Gracie. She kept herself busy reading her new books, demonstrating minor hexes for Rosalind and Lucille (using Winston as a willing target), and duelling with her bedpost.

Anne avoided her mostly during that time but caught her daughter levitating things at the dinner table and making Winston grow feathers a couple times. It came as a surprise when she announced that she would be going along on the trip back to Diagon Alley on the first.

“I must see you off to your new school, dear, even if I don’t agree with it,” she said as she climbed into the carriage with Gracie, Lucille, Rosalind, and Winston. She looked as though she regretted her decision, however, as soon as the carriage stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron and Gracie cast a concealing charm.

“How exactly are you getting from here to your school?” Anne asked as they stepped into Diagon Alley. She was clearly shocked at the large crowd and curious shops but years of hosting parties had taught her to keep a composed face at all times.

“I don’t really know,” Gracie admitted, navigating around the huge crowd of students and their parents. “My letter just said that transportation would be provided.”

“Is-- is that a mast?” Anne lost her cool exterior for a moment as she spotted what looked like a mast and sail of an old-fashioned pirating ship above the crowd. A plump man next to her smiled and nodded.

“Of course it is. They need to get the students to the school somehow. That flying ship has been the Hogwarts transport for three centuries.”

“I see. And just what are those people doing?” She pointed at a group of wizards waving their wands around the sides of the ship.

“Reinforcing concealing charms. Wouldn’t want the Muggles to see it. Merlin knows what sort of thing they’d come up with if they got a glimpse of it. Plenty of rubbish, to be certain.”

The man walked away and Anne rubbed her temples. “Muggles?”

“People who aren’t magic,” Gracie supplied. “I read it in my history book. You, Rosalind, Lucille, and Winston are Muggles.”

Anne groaned. “I need a drink.”

Lucille took her by the elbow and began steering her back towards the Leaky Cauldron. “We’ll get you something, Madam.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Gracie. “Goodbye, Gracie! Stay out of trouble and do be careful! And write us right away!”

“I will! Goodbye!” Gracie waved and turned back to the task of pushing her way towards the ship. Winston carrying her trunk was able to clear a path in the crowd for her and Rosalind to follow. When they reached the ship, they saw that the crew of wizards was finished charming the ship and was now directing luggage into a cargo area with their wands. Winston gratefully put down Gracie’s trunk near one.

“There’s the gangplank, Gracie. Goodbye and good luck.”

Winston swept her up into a tight embrace and then let her go to say goodbye to Rosalind.

“The house will be so quiet without you stomping about and fuming about something,” Rosalind said, smiling sadly. “Be good, you. Show that school what Gracie Lewis can do.”

“I will, Rosalind.” Gracie hugged her. “Think of how exciting this all is!”

Rosalind smiled and tugged at her bun. “And you still wear your hair long. Witches seem to have it better than us Muggles, don’t they? Now go aboard before all the good seats are taken.”

Gracie raced up the gangplank and moments later her head appeared over the side of the ship. She waved at Winston and Rosalind until the gangplank was drawn up and the ship began to rise.

“You ought to find a seat before they’re all taken.”

Gracie whirled around to find a dark, handsome boy standing before her. “I was about to look for one. Where are the seats?”

“There are some below deck, separated into cabins and a few right up here on the deck. The cabin seats are the most popular as the ship’s floor is glass and you can see straight below.”

Gracie grimaced. “That will upset my stomach. I think I’ll stay up here. I’m Gracie Lewis, by the way, and this is my first year.”

The boy took her hand and shook it politely. “I am Vishnu Patil. This is my first year, too. Come on, we can sit in the benches by the bow.”

Gracie raised her eyebrows as she followed him to the head of the ship. “You’re only a first year? You seem older. How do you know so much about the ship?”

“I read about it in Hogwarts, A History. Useful if a bit boring. Here we are.”

Four benches formed a square at the very head of the ship, with enough space between them to walk through. Each bench could have easily fit five or six people but only one person was sitting there now, a skinny boy with curly, blond hair.

“Hello,” the boy said, as they walked into the square and sat on two other benches. “Who are you?”

“I am Vishnu Patil and this is Gracie Lewis. We’re first years.”

“Me too! I’m Joseph, Joseph Lupin. Any idea what House you’ll be?”

“House?” Gracie asked curiously. She was beginning to wish she had purchased Hogwarts, A History along with her required textbooks.

“You’re Muggle-born, aren’t you?” Joseph said. “Well, there are four Houses, each named for one of the four founders. I’ve heard that there’s an intense rivalry between all four of them.”

Vishnu shrugged. “We’ll find out what House we’re in when we get there. No use speculating ahead of time.”

“A Divination expert in the making, I can tell,” Joseph commented wryly.

“Room for one more?” A tallish boy with brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail bounced towards them. “I’m Alexandros Davies.” He leapt over Gracie’s bench and landed gracelessly next to her. “But you can call me Alex. Your hair’s an awful mess.”

Gracie scowled and scooted away from him. “I am aware of that and do not care. There’s a whole empty bench, why don’t you sit there? Or better yet, on a bench elsewhere?”

Alex laughed. “That’s a good one. So, you’re all first years? What are your names?”

“I’m Joseph Lupin, this is Vishnu Patil, and the girl you managed to offend in three seconds is Gracie Lewis.”

Alex nodded. “Pleased to meet you all.” He grinned slyly at Gracie and winked roguishly. “Especially you, dearest.”

With a near-growl, Gracie leapt up from the bench and plopped into the fourth unoccupied one with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Alex laughed again and stretched himself out on his bench.

“And that, gentlemen, is how one gets a bench to himself without moving a muscle. What’s your Quidditch team?”

Gracie looked on with amusement as the boys quickly became preoccupied with a new conversation. She knew nothing about Quidditch but they were more than happy to fill her in. Nearly the rest of the journey was spent with talk of the game, and Gracie listened, trying to get a better understanding of it.

“So the Cannons are the team of choice for all three of you?” she asked. The three boys nodded and all began talking at once about the team. “Who’s their rival?”

“They’re playing the Falcons to win the league this year,” answered Vishnu. “Why?”

“I support them.” Gracie grinned at the chorus of groans and scoffs.

“Good team for you, actually,” Joseph said. “They’re reputed as the most violent team.”

Over the course of the trip, Gracie had kicked Joseph and Alex no less than seven times for certain gibes. She sniffed indignantly and stuck her tongue out at Joseph.

“Very ladylike.” Alex teased. Gracie rolled her eyes; she still found him as annoying as she had a few hours ago but he was starting to grow on her.

“Look! The castle!” Vishnu stood up and pointed. They could just make out a huge castle sprawled beyond a forest in the distance. A lake glittered in the dwindling daylight and the ship began slowly descending.

“It’s magnificent,” Gracie breathed. “I thought I’d never see a building I’d like better than the Lyceum.”

“What’s the Lyceum?” Joseph asked, puzzled.

“A theatre Mother and I sometimes attend in London. I love going to the shows.” Gracie grinned and leaned over the rail in an attempt to get a better look.

A short while later, the ship touched softly on the ground just before the lake and the students rushed off the gangplank. Gracie lost the boys in the mayhem but figured she’d find them again when they reached the castle.

“First years! First years, follow me! Come along now!” a muscular wizard shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth. He led the way to the lake where a collection of rowboats where gathered. “Four first years to a boat!” the man called as he got into one himself.

“Gracie! Over here!” Joseph beckoned at her from one of the boats. She hurried over and climbed in.

“Have you seen Vishnu or Alex?” she asked as she settled herself.

“Not yet, I’m looking. Oh, there they are.” Joseph stood up in the boat, causing it to rock and Gracie to topple over in her seat, yelping indignantly. “Sorry, Gracie. Vishnu! Alex! We’re here!”

Vishnu and Alex joined their boat and moments later they set off gliding across the lake. All four remained silent, nervously anticipating what awaited them inside the castle. They hardly noticed when the boats reached the other side of the lake and they began walking towards the castle. They stopped abruptly when the muscular man halted in front of the huge front doors of the castle. The doors creaked open and the professor who showed Gracie the way into Diagon Alley stepped out.

“Thank you, Ichabod,” she said to the man. She looked over the first years and smiled. “Come in and I will explain the next procedure.”

She turned on her heel and walked inside the castle, Ichabod beside her. The nervous first years scrambled after her and paused in the large entrance hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Blaire. In a few minutes you will appear in the Great Hall to be sorted into your House. There are four Houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

“During your time at Hogwarts, your House will be like a family. You will eat at your House table, sleep in your House’s dorms, have classes with your Housemates, and earn or lose points for your House. The Headmistress will explain points further before the feast.”

A small creature scurried into the hall and tugged at Professor Blaire’s robes. As she knelt down to speak to it, Gracie gave Vishnu a puzzled look.

“It’s a house-elf,” he whispered. “I’ll lend you a book later to read about them.”

“First years, line up!” Professor Blaire stood with one hand on the door leading to the Great Hall. “We are ready for the Sorting.”