Angela Cross and the End All Spell

Angela Cross and the End-All Spell

--a Harry Potter Universe fanfiction--

Chapter Nine

**An Afternoon with the Lady**

It turned out that Harry Potter hadn't been kicked out of school after all, and had in fact been added to the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their new 'seeker' - whatever that meant - for his apparent flying skills. The whole thing left a sour taste in Angela's mouth the next morning at breakfast, and she ate her meal without much enthusiasm.

"What's wrong, Angee?" asked Kathy, taking a seat next to her. "You didn't stick around much for dinner last night." Angela had just packed up some food from the Great Hall the night before and eaten in her room, not really wanting to chat with anyone after the whole flying class incident. She wasn't really sure she wanted to talk to anyone today either, but with Double Potions coming up she had no choice but to eat with everyone else present.

"I wanna fly," said Angela, pouting over her eggs.

Kathy looked at Angela sympathetically and patted her on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay, sometimes these things just take practice. I mean, you're the first person in your family that can use magic, right? You're walking on new ground, it'll probably just take a little getting used to and you'll be zipping around in the air before you know it." Angela just grunted an acknowledgement to Kathy's talking and continued to nibble on her meal.

"Hey, I've still got a while before Herbs and you have a little time before Potions, why don't we go sit outside in the sun? It's a beautiful morning." Kathy got up and encouraged Angela to do the same, which Angela was more than happy to do; eating outdoors would have meant hanging around fewer students, so Angela gathered up a bundle of food and tossed it into her cauldron, stepping out of the Great Hall and heading south to go eat where the view of the lake would be best, avoiding outlandish tales from Potter and Weasley about a giant three-headed dog hiding somewhere in one of the school's corridors.

The girls headed down the staircase that led to the lower exit for the school, past the Hufflepuff dormitory and around a stairwell that looked very much like the one leading to the Gryffindor common room except that it was completely cylindrical. They continued down the long corridor, past the Hufflepuff common room entrance (why did Hufflepuff get to be so close to the Great Hall??) and finally out the end door. Bright sunlight shone down upon them and a pleasant wind crawled along the ground: it would've been a perfect day to go flying! Angela grumbled and quickly redirected her attention back to the breakfast she would soon be eating.

Food. Food is good. Food doesn't let me down.

Kathy certainly had a wonderful location thought out - overlooking the massive lake outside the school was a small, green cliffside with a single gnarly, leafy tree upon it. The canopy of the tree was shading the ground beneath it in patches.

"See?" said Kathy. "Outdoor picnic."

The two girls sat upon the soft grass and relaxed with their backs against the tree, looking out at the mirror-like surface of the water. Occasionally a ripple would pop to the surface from time to time, as though a fish had come up for food or something, but otherwise it was perfect. In the distance were huge, snowcapped mountains, sealing the castle and its environs off from the rest of the world.

"Just what part of England is Hogwarts in?" Angela asked.

"Scotland, I think," answered Kathy as she unwrapped what looked like a breakfast burrito. "No one's really sure about the specifics, though."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Angela, a little confused.

"Hogwarts is unplottable."

There was a small silence before Angela prodded her on. "Unplottable?"

"Oh, sorry," Kathy said with an apologetic smile, "that means it can't be marked on a map. No one except Professor Dumbledore and some of the faculty really know exactly where it is."

Angela mulled this around in her head, still a little confused. "Sooooo... How does anyone find their way here?"

"You don't need a map to find your way here if you want to get here. If you need to come to Hogwarts, you just do." Kathy scrunched her eyes, looking like she was in thought for a moment. "I'm not really sure I can explain it to you, it's just... how things are in the wizarding world I guess. Physical distance doesn't work the same way for magical folk as it does for Muggles."

While Angela was sure she needed to learn more about that matter, she nodded that she at least understood what Kathy was saying. It would certainly make more sense regarding how the owls were able to deliver mail intercontinentaly so fast than having to flap their wings all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.

So she was in Scotland - another part of the world Angela had always wanted to go! That at least put away a little of the bad mood she was feeling, and she looked at the mountains with a little extra appreciation. As she reached into her cauldron to get a bagel she had taken from the Great Hall, she wondered if she'd get a chance to do any sightseeing outside of the school as the year progressed. She cut the bagel in half and sat it on her lap, looking in her cauldron for the cream cheese she would be spreading on it, when all of a sudden her bagel seemed to have gained an extra pound.

Quickly she looked at her lap. A pair of shiny black eyes looked back at her, blinking once in curiosity.

There was a bright green frog on her bagel. The frog had little black stripes on its arms and legs and big floppy feet. It had a paper scroll squished in its mouth, both ends sticking out considerably.

Kathy looked at the frog, her mouth frozen just before a bite into her burrito. There was silence from all three parties present, until -

Kathy: "What the - ?"

The frog: "Gero gero?"

Angela: "AAAAAAAAAAH!"

The young Gryffindor promptly freaked out. She immediately leapt up to her feet, back banging against the old tree while her bagel and the frog went flipping into the air. Despite twirling through the sky, the frog looked surprisingly nonchalant about the situation, even after it flopped clumsily onto its stomach. The bagel landed on the ground next to it with the same level of agility.

"What the heck??" Angela yelled, pointing at the frog in total surprise and manically wiping any potential frog-cooties off her skirt.

"I'm guessing that isn't yours," Kathy said, looking at the cute little frog which had proceeded to gather itself up to its feet, still looking at Angela curiously.

"Gah!" Angela said, looking disgusted, "It sat on my breakfast! Bleh!"

"What's that in its mouth?" asked Kathy, apparently not as perturbed by the little amphibian as Angela was.

"Bubulino!"

A call had come from the school entrance Angela and Kathy exited from earlier, a boy jumping out and looking around desperately. The frog immediately looked at the boy's call, as did Angela and Kathy.

"Bubulino?? Where are you??" He spun around, striding back and forth around the school wall and looking to the ground carefully.

"Hey!" Kathy called to the boy. "Is this your frog??"

The boy immediately spun and looked at the girls, and upon seeing Angela plastered to the tree he wasted no time in bolting towards them.

Closer up now, there was no mistaking who the boy was: curly brown hair, big head, yellow and black colors on his tie... It was Jason Wages, half of the strange Hufflepuff/Slytherin duo.

As he ran, he stopped about ten yards from them and moved the rest of the distance slowly and carefully, scanning the ground back and forth and calculating each of his steps.

"Where is he?" the boy asked in a hushed tone, still scanning the ground with care. Kathy and Angela both pointed at the ground before them (Angela's finger firing faster than Kathy's), and the boy's eyes lit up when they met the large black eyes of the frog.

"Give it back, Bubulino," he said, approaching the frog very carefully with his hand out. "C'mon, drop it... Drop it...". When he got within ten feet, the frog stopped sitting and looked like it was about to move. Wages stopped immediately.

"Bad frog," he hissed. "Drop that scroll..."

The frog's front right leg moved out, as though it was threatening to turn and make a run for it.

"C'mon," he said, more desperately, "put it down. Please?"

Neither moved. Angela and Kathy just looked back and forth between the two, wondering what was going on.

The frog slowly began to turn. Wages immediately stepped back, hands up before himself in a placating manner, and the frog stopped turning. The boy's legs, however, were tense and obviously he was planning something. He stepped back again, and the frog relaxed a little bit more.

There was a suddenly flurry of movement as a black cloak and pointy hat went flying through the air at the frog, a mighty yell coming from the Hufflepuff boy as he dove. The frog was caught off guard, its eyes wide in surprise, and before it could react Jason had landed, arms outstretched in a mad grab for the little green creature.

Fortunately for the frog, he had landed five feet short of his target. Both Jason and Bubulino looked at each other and blinked before the frog promptly spun around and bolted off down the hill in a hopping green blur.

No one said anything for a second, and then Jason, still on the ground with his hands outstretched, looked at the girls.

"He's got my History homework! Get him!"

Without saying a word in protest or question, the entire group suddenly found itself sprinting down the hill after the little frog. Keeping sight of it was a chore as it kept blending into the grass with each hop. Farther and farther down the hill the trio ran, the frog doing an impressive job of keeping ahead of them all, but its luck was about to run out.

"Gotcha!" Jason panted, Angela and Kathy gasping for breath themselves next to him. The three had cornered the frog on an edge of the cliff; it had nowhere to go but down into the lake behind it. Jason slowly walked up it, his hands out, once again stepping with trepidation to avoid spooking the frog any further.

"You've got nowhere to go. Give me my bloody homework."

The boy made one more step, and the frog showed him it indeed had somewhere left to go. It spun around and hopped off the cliff.

"AH!" All three yelled at the same time and ran to the cliff side, looking over the edge. It was probably a hundred feet down straight into the water.

The frog had vanished from sight, but the small ripple that appeared in the water showed it had made impact with the lake below. Angela and Kathy just looked down, jaws open in shock. Jason had the same expression, though increased to the tenth-power.

Almost immediately, his expression flipped 180-degrees from utter shock to mildly annoyed disappointment.

"Well. That sucked," he said casually, sitting up on his knees with his lips pursed and his arms crossed. The girls just sat up, still looking at him a little slack-jawed.

Jason got up, dusted the grass off his knees, and continued to look at the cliff side, growing deep in thought. The girls got up themselves, occasionally looking over the cliff carefully before returning their glances at the boy.

"Your frog jumped on my breakfast," Angela said. True, it wasn't an impressive introduction, but at the moment she was fairly steamed about having thrown away a perfectly good bagel.

"Sorry," the boy said, looking at her and smiling weakly.

"I mean, that was an Everything bagel! With cheese!"

"Sorry," he said again, his smile vanishing and looking even more embarrassed.

Angela looked back at the way they came and quickly realized how much distance they had all covered; there was now a football field's length of uphill climbing before them.

Breakfast, ruined! Flying, ruined! Uphill climbing ahead of her! Two hours of Potions starting any minute now! Breakfast, still ruined! The young girl was fuming now and angrily exclaimed the first thing that came to mind.

"Frogs!"

She had actually been shooting for another word that started with 'F', but luckily caught herself. Deciding not to waste any more time, she just stormed up the hill to get the hiking part over and done with. Kathy gave the boy a scolding stare and quickly followed after Angela.

"Sorry," repeated the boy. Angela didn't look behind herself, but apparently the boy was following them closely up the hill back towards the school. He apologized the entire way up.

"He thought my homework was a letter, you see, and he's probably halfway back to Mom's place by now. Well, at least you saw him eat it, so you can back up my story that my frog ate my homework. It's my mom's fault, really, she made me take him instead of giving me a falcon or pigeon or something, I mean who uses frogs to deliver the mail anymore? He-"

It was about this time that the group had made it to the top of the hill and the picnic site. Angela had to agree that using a frog to deliver the mail was awfully strange, but it was Kathy's expression that showed her how truly weird it was.

"You use a frog to deliver mail?"

"I know, it's stupid. But I got him as a gift from my great-great-great-grandmother, she insisted I take him along and she's not really someone you can say no to. Give me a communicator badge any day, I tell you."

"A what?" Both girls had no idea what he was talking about now, looking at him in a combination of confusion and annoyance.

"You know. Beep-beep." The boy emphasized his point by tapping what appeared to be a prefect's badge pinned to his cloak. Kathy just glanced at it and then back at him, still not knowing what he meant; Angela, however, quickly noticed it was not a prefect's badge at all but was instead a gold Star Trek insignia pin.

"Is, uh, that what I think it is?"

Wages' eyes lit up suddenly. "You recognize it??"

"Yeah, that's from Star Trek, right?"

The fact his frog had just jumped off a cliff with his homework immediately became ancient history to Jason as his jaw popped open ecstatically. His eyes gleaming, he promptly invaded Angela's personal space as she found him now only a foot away from her.

"Oh my god! You watch Star Trek? Isn't it the coolest?? I just saw this episode where Captain Kirk had to get these super-Muggles off his ship - they were stronger than usual ones for some reason - and their boss - I think his name was Khan - seduced one of the captain's crew-ladies and -"

"Yes, yes," Angela said, backing away promptly and giving herself some room from him, "I've seen that one."

Jason just looked euphoric at this. "I didn't even have to finish it! Cool! That means you have Muggle parents, yeah? My dad's a Muggle, he's in the military, that's how he met my mom, you see, and -"

Kathy promptly stepped in and edged Jason farther away from Angela with her hand; he was apparently still too close to her for Kathy's comfort. The distraction was enough for him to gather his wits, as well as for Angela to regain hers after the Trek info-dump.

"Sorry again," he said with an embarrassed smile, "that was rude of me. I'm Jason Wages, this is my first year here at Hogwarts."

Angela and Kathy looked at each other dubiously for a moment. Was it a good idea to tell this strange kid just who they were? But Angela didn't want to be rude either, so she looked back at the boy and smiled as best she could. "This is our first year too," she said, "I'm Angela and this is Kathy. We've seen you around the school with your friend."

Jason's euphoria quickly paused as he looked at the girls carefully, a little taken aback himself. "Oh," he stammered, "yeah, well, James is really cool, he's... um, he's from the Muggle world too and knows all sorts of things about Star Trek and computers and lightsabers and things. I met him on the train here."

His tone had changed from elation to apprehension at the mention of James McGee. Angela could also see he was now actively maintaining a space cushion from the girls now, like he was worried he was going to offend them or make them angry or something by being too close. Considering how his friendship with the Slytherin boy was thought of as outside the norm for Hogwarts, Angela guessed he wasn't sure how either of the girls was going to treat him since they knew what circles he associated with.

Angela was not in a social mood at the moment: she was hungry, her breakfast was cut short by a slimy frog landing on her food, and she was tired from having to climb all the way up the hill to the picnic site. But at the same time she knew the boy didn't mean for any of that to happen, and she could see by how he was acting that he probably didn't have a lot of friends due to his friendship with McGee. So Angela took in a deep breath and forced a smile.

"Yeah, my mom and dad are Muggles," she said as she bent down and rummaged through her pack for something to put in her empty tummy. "You learned about Star Trek from your friend, did you say?"

Jason looked about as relieved as one could be that neither Angela nor Kathy were going to crucify him for his taboo friendship with James. He took in a breath himself and quickly regained his bright smile. "Actually I learned about it from staying at my dad's. I don't get to see him much, even when I get the chance to visit him, but he's got cable teevee so I get to learn about Muggles that way."

Retrieving a fresh one from a paper wrapper, Angela took a bite from her new bagel and nodded, though inside she was groaning; television wouldn't have been the first venue she would have suggested for someone to learn about the non-magical world.

"Oh yeah," said Kathy, "one of the families I know in Kiev has a teevee. I don't understand them personally, all you ever see on them is loud, noisy snow."

"That's why they need cable! Its like a regular picture, right? Except there's sound! And loads of pictures on different channels, too; there's this one picture called I Love Lucy, it's really funny. But my favorite one is Star Trek! It's about some ship captain that flies through space with an elf and a bunch of other people and they Apparate to other planets and seduce women painted in green stuff. I want to go meet them some day."

"You want to meet 'them'? Who, Captain Kirk?"

"Yeah! That would be so great!"

Angela raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Um. You know, that show isn't real."

Jason looked at her with an odd look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's an act. That's what most of the stuff on TV is, people acting."

"Are you joking? Of course it's real."

She hated to tell him this as he seemed quite enthusiastic about the program, but so far Angela had been seeing one misconception about the Muggle world after another since she had first set foot in the magical world almost a month before, and felt like stopping this one before it totally confused the kid. "Captain Kirk is played by an actor named William Shatner," she said. "The whole thing was filmed in Hollywood about thirty years ago."

"Hollywood...? Oh, that's right, Lucy and Ricky went to Hollywood when Ricky got a job in the Don Juan picture! I remember now-"

"Anyway," Angela continued as she rolled her eyes, "the point is Star Trek doesn't really exist, it's not real. It's just a bunch of made-up stuff using makeup, special effects and tricks."

"Ah, that's what Muggles say about magic," said Jason with a wink.

...

Angela honestly had nothing to say to this. It was a good point.

"Okay Jason, we'll have to hear more about all that some other time," interrupted Angela, gathering up her stuff quickly. "I've got Double Potions and Kathy has Herbology, so we need to run or we're going to be late."

"Oh, okay. I've got Professor Sprout this afternoon myself, so you guys have fun."

"Okee," said Angela, heading in the direction of the school. "We'll see you later. It was nice meeting you."

Angela and Kathy waved goodbye to the young boy, and embarrassingly enough the boy waved back at Angela with his fingers poised in the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper!" he called after them.

And that was Angela's first experience with Hogwarts' resident Star Trek nerd.

The coming weeks at Hogwarts had their smooth parts as well a number of bumps, the first major bump being right after Angela had met Jason: she had been in such a rush for class that she had neglected to notice the cream cheese that was accidentally smeared on the inside of her cauldron and had completely botched her Potions assignment. Professor Snape took a moment from berating Harry Potter, long enough to wipe exploded cream cheese from his robes and face, and had Angela spend the rest of the afternoon after class cleaning out every single cauldron in his inventory - of which there were quite a few - without the aid of magic. Fortunately, the punishment wasn't anywhere as rough as Snape had intended it to be: Angela was more than familiar with cleaning antique pots thanks to her mother, and as she had never used magic to clean before anyway it was no big deal to scrub them by hand. She did such a good job, in fact, that Professor Snape actually raised an impressed eyebrow when she finished after only three hours, sending her on her way without too much of his usual brusqueness.

Every day from then on, though, Jason would wave enthusiastically at her and Kathy when he caught sight of them in the Great Hall. He never seemed to venture from his seat during meals, though he would occasionally point James McGee at them, which began to draw some students' attentions. James would wave in their direction casually when Jason directed his attention towards the Gryffindor table, and occasionally Angela could hear him making a reference to her and 'that Kathy girl'. However, the boys didn't gravitate from their area and the girls stuck to theirs.

Magic lessons were growing more and more amazing: since she spent so much of her spare time actually practicing with her wand, Angela felt like she was finally getting the hang of her basic lessons and was now dying to learn the more advanced spells. To her surprise, Kathy wasn't that much more advanced skill-wise than she was, even with the prior experience of her family; in fact, Angela discovered that Kathy actually had to work harder at picking up spell usage than she did, often putting in more hours behind her lessons, though doing so with diligence and without complaint. Despite the hard work, Kathy was as excited to learn the basics of magic as Angela was.

History lessons were still boring beyond compare, but Angela just decided to completely ignore Binns' mind-numbing lessons and focus on reading the textbook during class, only allowing herself to get sucked into the ghostly teacher's droning when she heard the word 'test'. Transfiguration and Charms were competing for second-place in Angela's heart, though not because they were bad classes, far from it; it was because first-place went to Astronomy, the only course Angela could consistently best Hermione Granger at - Angela could swear she one day heard Hermione's teeth grinding when Professor Sinistra had (amusingly enough) said to her, "Your planets still need some aligning, Miss Granger. Look at Miss Cross' work to see how it should be done."

In fact, there was only one single class Angela didn't look forward to in the week, which was a shame because it was the one class Angela wanted to look forward to the most.

"I don't know what to say," said Madam Hooch, "all the other students are already in the air. Even Neville started the obstacle course this week."

Angela just sat on the ground next to her dead broom, on the verge of tears. She didn't even want to look up at Neville; she would never have pegged him as being able to fly before she could.

Hooch bent down, making sure none of the other students could hear her. "It's a possibility, dear," she whispered, trying to be comforting, "that this is because of your, er, nature."

Angela had suspected the same thing. Since she was a Twink, there were bound to be intrinsic differences between herself and the regular magicking community. The possibilities were strong that she was going to be stuck on the ground for the rest of her life, no matter how much she practiced.

"Don't worry," Hooch said, not knowing really what else to do in this situation, "You'll still get a passing grade in my class. I know you can't help what's happening here.

"And who knows," she said, straightening up and speaking normally, "perhaps this truly is just an example of practice makes perfect. Just keep trying, I'll keep doing my best to help you off the ground."

The coach was as good as her word, spending three weeks of classes focusing a good deal of her attention at helping her fly, though Angela could see how frustrating it was for her to have a student that couldn't even lift off the ground, much less dive around in circles. Angela just took in a deep breath, stuffed her unhappiness down into the pit of her stomach, and relegated herself to being broom-impaired.

Angela's frustration was extended to Professor Quirrell, who despite being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and her supposed mentor barely spent any time with her. His class lessons were mostly from the books and involved no hands-on training whatsoever, and when she tried to track him down after class he never seemed to be around; those rare occasions she was able to catch him outside of class, he either was too busy to talk to a student out of class or seemed utterly distracted, as though his mind was on something else entirely. In fact, there was only one time she had succeeded in discussing her predicament with him, which was a strange occurrence indeed.

She had found him coming from the Library once, a leather-bound book on exotic dragons under his arm, and determined to get started on learning about the magic she carried in her mind she confronted him.

"Excuse me? Professor Quirrell?"

At first he hadn't even noticed her and was about to walk right past her, eyeing the book under his arm desperately, but Angela had already been there for a month and a half and had had enough of waiting.

"Professor Quirrell!"

"Oh? Oh!" The pale man hopped back slightly at the call of his name and looked at Angela with a little surprise. "Ah, M-Miss Cross. I'm s-s-sorry, I'm in a bit of a r-rush, maybe we can chat another time, hmm?" He began to continue on his way.

Angela frowned and ran up next to him. "Professor, it's been a month and a half, when are we going to start studying the Book of Black?"

Quirrell stopped abruptly and almost dropped his book. The look of utter shock in his eyes was extremely confusing.

"The what??" His voice was a hoarse whisper, but it was an intense one at that. Bizarrely enough, his lips didn't move when he said it.

Before Angela could say anything, the teacher looked around and pulled her to the side, finding an empty room near the library and rushing her into it. He seemed to have immediately lost his nervousness and now looked almost manic. Angela worried that perhaps she wasn't supposed to bring up the Book in public like that and was going to get a talking-to about it.

"What do you know of the Book of Black?" he demanded, closing the door behind them. Angela was utterly confused and a little upset at his attitude.

"What are- Professor Quirrell, the Ministry said you're supposed to be my mentor on this magic stuff but you haven't spent any time with me at all."

"No time on..." The Professor looked puzzled for a moment, then frowned at nothing in particular. Angela suddenly found she didn't want to be in the same room with him, at least not alone. "But we were supposed to study... the Book of... of..."

It was like a switch was flipped, and without any type of transition the Professor immediately returned to his old self, looking at Angela with a little bewilderment.

"Ah, M-M-Miss Cross," he said in nervous, stuttering manner, "I'm in a t-t-t-terrible rush and must hurry off. If you have any q-q-questions about this week's assignment, I suggest you ask Miss G-Granger for help, she's proven more than w-w-willing to help out her fellow G-Gryffindors. Now, if y-y-you'll excuse me..."

And with that he headed off and out the door, looking slightly dazed but staying focused on the book on dragons he carried, his fingers drumming along its surface purposefully. Angela just watched him go, completely unsure of what had just transpired but making a mental note not to bring up the Book of Black with him again for a while.

It was this incident that prompted Angela to wonder just how much about her the faculty was aware of. The knowledge that she was an artificial witch seemed to be common knowledge amongst them, though they were keeping it quiet from the other students. However, none of the teachers ever mentioned the Book of Black or seemed to express any knowledge of just how she had become a Twink. Was it something they wanted to keep hushed up? Or did they truly know nothing of her origins? Of all the members of the Hogwarts staff, she had been certain Dumbledore and Quirrell knew of the Book of Black at least, but with the nervous man's unexpected reaction just moments before she had no idea just how extensive anyone's knowledge about her was. If she brought it up with the school headmaster, would he react the same way Quirrell had?

Since Professor Quirrell wasn't being any help and she wasn't sure she had anywhere else to turn, Angela decided it was time to do some research on her own.

"Twinks and the Muggle Encroachment on Our World', 'Twinks: the Saviors of the Squibs', 'Artificial Magic: a History', 'The Synthetic Wizard'... I've read all of those, you know."

Hermione Granger, Angela discovered, spent almost every minute she wasn't in class or in the Gryffindor common room in the library. This made hunting for books on her subject matter a tad difficult, as Hermione seemed to regard the library as her territory and made a point to look at whatever other students were taking an interest in. Even Madam Pince, a librarian that doubled as a vulture both in appearance and in her tendency to hover and look for misbehaving students, tended to ignore Hermione's territorialism as long as she kept her voice down - apparently the old lady was thoroughly impressed with Miss Granger's knowledge and respect for books and gave her some generous leeway as a result.

These four books were the only ones in the library that covered Twinks, and when Angela had discovered her own name in the last book on her list she had decided to make a point to remove them all from the library and read them somewhere more private. Hermione happened to catch her while she was in line to check them out.

The fact that she had read the last book made Angela worry. Hermione would undoubtedly know Angela was a Twink now, and while she personally couldn't have cared less what Hermione thought of her background, she didn't want her blabbing the news over the school before she knew more about the subject.

"So, uh, what did you think of them?" Angela asked.

"Very interesting subject matter. I'm surprised there aren't more artificially created magic users out there, but apparently nothing short of divine intervention can infuse someone with the ability to cast or use spells. That's a good thing, though, because then everyone would want to be a wizard or witch and that would make for a very messy world."

It was impossible to read Hermione's face: the girl always looked a little smug at her own superior knowledge to every other student in her class and was perpetually preachy, so Angela couldn't tell if she was taunting her or truly knew nothing of her being a Twink. Considering Hermione's natural gift for remembering almost anything she had laid her eyes on, though, odds were she was well aware that Angela was an artificial witch. Angela wasn't particularly sure what to say to her in regards to this, but as usual Hermione just continued on.

"Some theorists say that the very first wizard was a Twink, you know. That would mean that every wizard and witch in the world is really artificial in one sense or another, though as you can guess this isn't a popular theory at all. However, since it would have happened thousands and thousands of years ago, who's to say it's the wrong one?"

"Really?" Angela asked, hoping the line would speed up.

"The second Twink's background seems to have been virtually unscriptable during his time. No one from back then could write anything down about him, and now all anyone can do is theorize about who he was and what he could do. All that's known is he lived thousands of years ago himself. All anyone can really agree on is that he - or maybe she - existed. It's very strange and rather frustrating that so much of those books is theory and not actual fact. But then again they aren't very thick so you can see how much there is about artificially-created magic users that the world doesn't know."

Again, Angela hoped the line would speed up. Madam Pince was busy chewing out a student at the front for accidentally closing a book on an open package of Everyflavor Beans and leaving a horrible sticky mess between two pages.

"The third Twink, he's the best documented out of them all: he was born about five-hundred years ago and got his powers from a djinni as his wish. The Flame Vizier of Arabia is his direct descendant."

Angela recognized the title, though it took her a moment to recall where from. After a moment of concentration, she remembered someone mentioning him at the Ministry meeting back with all the school headmasters. So the Flame Vizier's ancestor was a Twink?

"There are so many books on him it's hard for even me to keep up with them," Hermione continued. "Apparently he went on all sorts of incredible adventures in his life: battling birds as big as buildings, rescuing princesses from evil sorcerers, hunting for treasure or riding horses made of glass. He eventually vanished - the books suggest he just went on more adventures into the afterlife - but his family has been running that magical kingdom ever since."

This was a considerably more useful piece of information, and Angela made a mental note to research the Flame Vizier's family on her next trip to the library.

The line was finally closing in on the check-out desk, and the last remaining student before her stepped away with his copy of Carnivorous Plants and What Not to Feed Them. When Angela handed the books to Madam Pince, she proceeded to diligently look them over and scribble the date into them with her quill pen.

"There's also the matter of the fourth Twink," Hermione said. Angela, still looking at Madam Pince, held her breath.

"Unfortunately, there isn't anything in the books about him, just that he's alive today and got his magical abilities in much the same manner as the others." Hermione shrugged, looking somewhat frustrated. "Honestly, you'd think the researchers would keep better tabs on such an important person as the latest Twink. It's like looking at a time capsule or something, we can learn our origins by learning more about artificial wizards, I think, see what makes us tick."

Angela, eyes wide but not saying a word, took the books the moment the librarian signed them off and sped out the door. She needed to catch her breath and didn't want Hermione seeing her do it.

The moment Angela had returned to the Gryffindor common room she ran upstairs and closed the drapes around her bed, leaving the one behind her open so she'd have some light from the window. She immediately went to The Synthetic Wizard and flipped to the part she had found her name in. There it was, quite easily readable:

The fourth artificial wizard to grace the world of spellcasters is no wizard at all but rather a witch, a young one by the name of Angela Cross. You'll note I make a point of saying 'is' because she is alive in our era, studying at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry under the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore and his fine staff. Though the exact origins of her coming about are kept under lock and key by the government, she is considered to be on par with the other Twinks of known history, possibly even more so if my research is leading me in the correct direction.

There was a great deal of speculation about Angela in the proceeding pages, though little of it was actual fact but as Hermione said mostly speculation and theory about how someone so young had been bestowed with powers. Still, why Hermione claimed to be ignorant of who the latest Twink was confused Angela for a little while until she got halfway through the chapter pertaining to herself: the remaining pages were completely blank, save a note at the bottom of them:

Pages to be updated as more information becomes available.

Apparently the book was self-revising, more pages filling in with information as the writer, somewhere in the world, assembled more research. Hermione probably read the book as soon as she started the school year (or possibly even before) and the writer hadn't gotten wind of information regarding Angela by then. She quickly checked the due date on the book, and was relieved that she had three weeks to figure out what to do with this book that could very well tell everyone in the castle that she was a Twink.

Just how much of a secret did it have to be, though? No one had specifically told her not to share the information, it's just that they seemed to keep it under their hats was all. As she read the books, she didn't see anything saying that being a Twink was a bad thing: on the contrary, the people of the Flame Vizier's kingdom regarded him and his descendants as heroes and royalty, and his origins were public knowledge.

Unfortunately, the only real facts any of the books dealt with were the one's pertaining to the Flame Vizier, and while he was an artificial wizard Angela felt that was really all the two of them held in common. She received her abilities in a much less pleasant fashion and, to her annoyance, found the Flame Vizier had a collection of brooms and flying carpets that he liked to utilize all the time: Angela had no idea if she could use a flying carpet, but the broomstick part was a sizable difference.

The Saturday afternoon arrived fairly quickly as Angela sped through the books. She decided to hold onto The Artificial Wizard for a while until she decided just how anonymous to keep herself, though returned to the library with the others she had checked out. Since researching her background was turning out to be a rather fruitless endeavor, she decided to go talk straight to the horse's mouth instead, and sought out the only teacher she knew that had made any comment on her 'nature'.

There were more clouds in the sky that day and a minor breeze was picking up, though it did nothing more than whip Angela's hair around in her face as she walked out to the Quidditch field. As she found her way to the field entrance, she would occasionally see figures whip up and down over the surrounding walls, though they moved much too fast for her to make out as more than a blur. When she finally made her way over to the field grounds, she was greeted with an awesome sight.

So far, all Angela had seen of broomstick flying was either in books or of her classmates clumsily bumping into each other. But today the Gryffindor team was out in full force, practicing for their upcoming match against Slytherin in a couple of weeks. Students were spinning, diving, twirling, weaving, and otherwise performing acrobatics on their brooms, and Angela was so utterly enraptured at seeing the wonders up close and in real life for the first time that she completely missed hearing one of the students yelling at her.

Angela caught wind of the upcoming noise with only seconds to spare. At first it sounded like the whistle of a bomb being dropped, but then there was a sudden rush of air and she turned to see a large round blur hurtling at her with blinding speed. Her heart stopped and she just looked at the blur dumbly and in shock, when out of the blue came a red blur followed by a brown blur and a loud thwack! The round blur, now obviously some sort of oddly shaped red ball, went hurtling into the sky, and the red blur as she could see was in fact George Weasley sitting upon his broom, holding a wooden paddle and looking at Angela with an amused smirk.

"Wandering into the Quidditch field during practice isn't the smartest thing to do, you know," he said, chuckling to himself.

"I, uh..." Angela couldn't remember what she was doing there, she was too stunned from almost being smashed in the face by the ball. As she finally looked up, she could see the other players looking down at her, wondering what she was doing there. She recognized Fred Weasley in the group, and there was Harry Potter up higher than the other players, though aside from Harry no one else from her age group was there.

"I'm looking for Madam Hooch," she finally got out of her throat.

"Coach Hooch?" said a handsome, brown-haired boy in his mid-teens, floating down out of the sky and looking at Angela with no small degree of annoyance for disrupting practice. "She's gone off south t' see 'er 'usband for th' weekend," he told her in an impatient, albeit sexy Scottish drawl. "Next time make an appointment, an' don' come onto th' field while we're practicin'!"

Angela was taken aback by his curt attitude, but George just waved him off. "Eh, ignore Wood," he said with no attempt to keep his voice down.

"We do," chimed in Fred pleasantly.

"Enough shenanigans, you two - go smack th' bludger around some more before I smack you." This Wood boy, while slightly irritated by the Weasleys' joke, didn't seem to be taking their comment personally at least. Fred and George saluted Wood in a ridiculously mock manner and bolted off into the sky, their wooden paddles in hand. "If ye want ta watch, ye'll need ta do it in th' stands." And with that he sped off into the sky after them.

Tempted as she was to stay there and watch some more aerial dog-fighting between the players, Angela left the field, again with a sour taste in her mouth.

So Madam Hooch was unavailable? Who else could she talk to about the matter? Angela thought about the situation as she wandered down the halls of the school, when ironically enough she spotted a familiar figure walking down the hallway before her, talking with a group of older students. Purple-robed and wearing his pointy hat with stars, the bearded man was sharing tales of his experiences in Transfiguration from his youth with a tall Ravenclaw second-year with a long brown ponytail and her arms full of books, a dozen other Ravenclaws of varying ages following and listening intently to his stories, some even taking down notes.

Professor Dumbledore would have been a good choice to talk to, but he always seemed so busy, always chatting with other students or involved in school affairs or just doing who-knows-what in his office somewhere on the Hogwarts property. The timing would be difficult on this indeed.

The Professor and his entourage continued down the passageway and Angela considered bringing the Book of Black up with him right now while she had a chance, even with all the students around him. But she almost immediately decided against it and just watched as he turned the corner and vanished from sight.

"Enjoying your first month here at Hogwarts, childe?" Angela spun around in surprise at being addressed; she hadn't noticed anyone come up behind her and watching for however long she'd been staring at Dumbledore. When she faced the person talking to her, she was quite shocked to discover she could see right through her.

Floating a foot above the ground, wearing a long robe of blue fabric with gold accents and soft white cloth was a tall, translucent young woman with long blonde hair and a large book under her arm. Despite her dress being rather age-worn, it still looked quite lovely, if not ghostly, flowing about around her. Her ghostly nature muted most of the colors on her, making her look almost gray at certain angles.

"Um, hi."

"Hello, young lady," the ghost said with a smile, "I apologize, I hope I didn't startle you."

"A little," said Angela truthfully, "I haven't spoken to a lot of dead people since I started here."

"Ah," said the ghost with a start now that she had a better view of Angela, "You're the young Twink Professor Dumbledore mentioned." She curtseyed in midair. "It's a pleasure to finally get a chance to speak to you, I've been wanting to get this opportunity since I first learned you would be gracing this fine institution. I'm ever so fascinated by your nature.

"I am known as the Gray Lady, representing spirit of House Ravenclaw," she said in an almost revering sense.

"I'm Angela Cross, nice to meet you." This was the second dead person Angela had chatted with since she had gotten to the school, it was pretty funny that she was taking it so nonchalantly now.

"And yes," Angela continued with a smile, "I'm having a wonderful time! This school is so neat, I totally love it. It sure beats Oklahoma." Despite her concerns about flying or the Book of Black, this was very much the truth: Angela wouldn't have traded her last month-and-a-half at Hogwarts for anything in the world.

The Gray Lady nodded in return. "My apologies for prying. You looked a little concerned a moment ago when Professor Dumbledore was passing through. Is everything alright? Nothing on your mind you'd like to discuss perhaps?"

Angela was a little surprised that a stranger, particularly a dead one, had the insight to ask such a question; she wondered if she was truly that easy to read at the moment. She kept quiet for a little while, wondering just what to say to this.

"Perhaps you would feel a little more comfortable discussing it in private?"

Well, it was certainly an opportunity to talk to someone, and from what she knew about Ravenclaw from talking with Kathy its members were supposed to be a rather intelligent bunch. And the ghost obviously knew that Angela wasn't a naturally-born witch. Throwing caution to the wind, Angela decided she might as well talk to someone in the know and nodded to the Gray Lady.

"Sure, lead the way."

The ghost ushered Angela down the long hall she had been coming from, an open-sided path with green gardens growing on each side, and stopped at a gorgeous painting of a seascape and a tall-sailed ship that kept bobbing up and down on the ocean currents. She bent closely to the painting and whispered something Angela couldn't make out, and as she did so the painting swung back and revealed a huge opulent room.

"Here we are," she said with a smile and led Angela in before entering herself. It was a gorgeous room, paintings of landscapes on every wall - each of a starkly different environment - and large, comfortable looking furniture arranged around a round table made of hammered bronze and positioned less than a foot off the ground. The far wall had large lead-lined windows showing out to the Quidditch field beyond, and wandering the room picking up empty plates from the table and the little stands positioned next to the chairs was a house elf wearing a pair of huge placemats tied together with hemp rope. The elf looked up as the two entered and with a quick nod from the Gray Lady the elf gathered up its contents and scurried out, closing the painting behind it as it went.

"The teacher's lounge is as good a place as any to talk, I hope?"

"It's okay that I come in here?" Angela asked.

"Certainly. They haven't changed the password since I used to use it back in my own day."

"You used to be a teacher here?"

"A long time ago," the Gray Lady said, a little sadly. "That was before my little... 'incident' that brought me to this state."

"I'm sorry," Angela quickly said, worrying that she had upset the ghost, "I didn't mean to bring up anything."

"It's quite alright," the Gray Lady said with a reassuring smile. "Regrets are part of the tether that keeps us bound here, I'm afraid. We all tend to go on about one sort or another: I'm sure you've heard Sir Nicholas prattle on about his own problems, being in Gryffindor and all."

Angela shook her head. "Who's Sir Nicholas?"

The Gray Lady raised her eyebrows. "You do not know your own house ghost?"

"Oh, you mean the ghost that keeps pulling off his head in front of everyone? Everyone just calls him 'Nearly Headless Nick', I never heard his full name while I was here."

The ghostly woman smiled and nodded in justification. "Ah, yes, like I said: tethered here by one thing or another; in Nick's case, that would be the part of his neck that didn't yield all the way. Now, what was on your mind?" The ghost settled to the ground and sat a few inches off the floor, putting her book on her lap.

"It's about being a Twink," Angela started. "Some of the teachers seem to know about it -" The Gray Lady nodded at this. "-and you seem to know about it as well, but they all seem to be pretty quiet about it as well. I'm not sure if what I am is supposed to be a secret or not."

"Ah. Well, as far as I am aware, the instructors were told about you by Dumbledore when he returned from the Ministry of Magic a couple of weeks before the term started. I do not know about the other members of the faculty like Mister Filch or Mister Hagrid, but the ones who were to teach you were definitely told."

"Just, um, how much did Professor Dumbledore tell everyone?"

The ghost put her finger to her lips in thought for a second. "Hmm. He addressed the teachers and told them that a Twink would be joining the ranks of Hogwarts this year, which was quite a surprise to them considering the other distinguished figures of historical significance that arrived this year as well..."

"Like Harry Potter?"

"Him, among a few others."

This was certainly unexpected; Angela didn't know of any others who had arrived at Hogwarts under extraordinary circumstances other than herself and The-Boy-That-Lived.

"The Professor did ask them to keep the information regarding you under their hats, though not for the reasons I suspect you believe."

"What do you mean?" asked Angela.

"I am not privy to everything about you, nor are the other members of the faculty - the headmaster has kept your origins to himself - but considering how unusual all the previous Twinks of history were I can only assume your background is just as colorful. There may or may not be events which led to you becoming a Twink that are better kept under lock and key. However, in regards to keeping quiet, it was done as a means of discretion to help your induction into the magical world.

"There is a gap between the wizarding community which I am not sure if you are aware of, coming from a Muggle home. It is regarding wizards of a pure-blooded lineage and the rising number of witches and wizards that come from non-magical or half-magical households?"

Angela nodded. When Kathy had told her about Harry Potter's background she had also told her about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's rise to power and the movement by pure-blooded wizards to kill those who were not like them.

"Then you should understand that you could very well represent an unprecedented danger to the ideology of some pure-blooded families. To them, it's bad enough when a child with only a single magical parent is born with the gift, much less those who come into being without any magical history prior to their birth. But you, childe: you weren't even born with the gift, it came to you through some extraordinary means."

Angela could see where this was headed, but frowned as she thought it over. "But that all happened years ago," she said. "I thought that V-wizard was killed by Harry Potter."

"Lord Voldemort couldn't have accomplished what he did without voluntary aid, Miss Cross," the Gray Lady said, which surprised Angela considering how afraid Kathy had been to say the wizard's name; she hadn't been expecting it to be mentioned without so much as a flinch, but as the Gray Lady was a ghost Angela supposed there really wasn't much harm anyone could do to her in her current state. "The wizards and witches that supported him are still around," the ghost continued, "many imprisoned but many others roaming free in one sense or another. Their prejudice did not vanish with their master."

"Why would anyone have anything to worry about with me, though?" Angela asked. "I mean, I can't even fly a broom. Hermione Granger is better at magic than I am and she comes from a Muggle family, same as me."

"Every Twink was powerful in their own right, dear. You are no different. You just haven't found your way yet. You may not see it now, but those in power do - why else would a school like, say, Durmstrang, which only admits those of pure-blooded descent, want you in their ranks?

"But the extent of your magical ability isn't what truly places you as a threat to the pure-blooded," she continued, "it's the fact that you came upon your abilities artificially. They're afraid of what would happen should anyone else learn how you gained your magical aptitude and be able to duplicate the process."

Again, Angela nodded in acknowledgement; she was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by all of this. "You see, then," said the Gray Lady, "even Muggle-borns are just that: born with their gifts. The more radical pure-bloods have no love for these people, but they can still tolerate them as they are part of the natural cycle of magical evolution. You, on the other hand, represent everything they are truly terrified of. At this very moment I guarantee the fundamentalists that know of your existence are imagining whole armies of Muggles with artificial magic marching down the street, casting spells and barging into their homes."

The young girl frowned, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs as she tried to clear her head. She hadn't considered that she might have been such a point of controversy before.

"Now," the Gray Lady said, trying to be reassuring, "this doesn't mean you are in grave danger or anything so severe. Quite the contrary, under Professor Dumbledore's care you are quite safe, and as the family of the Flame Vizier of Arabia has proven over the years being a Twink is not considered a bad thing. It is really only the fundamentalists out there that you would need to keep your attention on, and with their cause as weakened as it was by the fall of Voldemort you have even less to be particularly concerned about. I apologize," she said with an embarrassed smile, "I feel I made your situation seem more perilous than it truly is."

"It's ok," Angela said, feeling slightly (though not entirely) relieved at hearing the Gray Lady say this. "So Professor Dumbledore has kept it quiet so I wouldn't be in danger?"

"Well, not so much to keep you out of danger as to help you gain acceptance here. Even if they aren't fundamentalists, some of the children here were still raised being convinced that those not of pure-blood were less than deserving of respect. I suspect he just didn't want you getting picked on for being different."

"Pfft, is that all?" Angela laughed. She had met children like this, Draco Malfoy and his cronies being at the forefront of her mind, and she really didn't give a whiff just what they thought of her. The Gray Lady was a little surprised by Angela's reaction, but smiled warmly.

"I'm happy to see it isn't so much of a concern with you. It's hard to say, there are plenty of students who aren't as comfortable with their status in the school ranks as you are."

That was one major concern out of the way for Angela. It still didn't tell her if she was going to be able to fly a broom anytime in the near future or how she was going to learn anything about the Book of Black, but it was a good start.

"Is there anything else you might be curious about?" asked the ghost.

"Hmm..." Angela thought for a moment, then decided to see what the Gray Lady knew about the Book of Black by trying a roundabout means of questioning. "Have you ever heard of someone by the name of Price Delgado?"

"Price Delg-?" The Gray Lady ran the name through her mind for a second before going wide-eyed. She stood up suddenly with a look of astonishment on her face and actually dropped her book, which fell into the ground and, ghostly like herself, stuck halfway into the floor instead of hitting the surface. Angela was a bit taken aback by the reaction of the ghost and quickly recalled just how Quirrell had reacted when the Book of Black was brought up with him.

"That's how..." The Gray Lady quickly gathered her wits about her, which was quite a sight considering how composed she had been until this point, and picked her book up out of the floor before looking at Angela intently. When next she spoke, she did so in a whisper. "You found the Book of Black, didn't you?" she asked, not in a scary sense but in one of trepidation. Angela just nodded, not sure if she should say anything else now.

"Ah. Well, while sharing your nature as a Twink is up to you, childe, I suggest you keep the particular facts about your origin as quiet as possible."

"I don't understand," Angela exclaimed, growing annoyed at more questions that popped up just when she thought she was getting somewhere. "When I was at the Ministry, everyone wanted to get their hands on me because of this book. They were just freaking out because everyone else wanted me to go to their schools. I'm here now, I'm not going to another school, why is everyone still freaking out?"

"'Everyone'?" The ghost seemed to grow very nervous suddenly. "Have you told anyone else about this while you were here?"

"Just Professor Quirrell, he was supposed to be my mentor and help me learn about the spells from the book. But when I brought it up with him he freaked out about it and started getting scary. Then he just forgot about it, like I hadn't said anything to him at all and went running off to do whatever."

"What did Professor Dumbledore say about this?"

"Nothing, I was going to talk to him about it just before I started talking to you."

"I see." The ghost became deep in thought again, not looking nervous anymore but instead becoming very introspective, beginning to float back and forth across the floor. Before Angela could speak up, the Gray Lady turned and hovered as close to the ground as she could, kneeling down and putting a ghostly hand gently on Angela's shoulder. The touch was terribly cold, and Angela quickly wanted her to not touch her.

"Miss Cross, what many of those wizards and witches you met at the Ministry didn't understand was just how dangerous that... book was." Angela could see the same nervousness in the Gray Lady's eyes about saying the book's name as Kathy had about saying Voldemort's. "You see, I was alive during Delgado's time. I was just a little girl, not much younger than yourself. When he used magic... you could see the effects from miles away. He committed atrocities that Lord Voldemort would have taken direction from had he the research and experience."

Angela found this a little hard to swallow. "But no one seems scared of him," she said. "You can barely find anything about him in any of the books in the library."

"Because that's how people are," the ghost said. "Do you have trouble saying the name of Attila the Hun? Or of Caligula? Or Torquemada? Or even Stalin? And these were Muggles, people from your own world. But they are history now and people don't fret about the past. In a century odds are no one in the wizarding world will be afraid to say Lord Voldemort's name.

"And Delgado didn't die in some dramatic way or lose in some kind of climactic battle; after he lost the book he just faded off into history, too obsessed with finding it than with maintaining his center of power. People started forgetting, or the turned stories of him into just that: stories, myths, things to scare each other with when sitting around a campfire late at night." The ghost shook her head disappointedly. "I've kept what he was fresh in my mind because I am the Gray Lady of Ravenclaw, I learn all I can about the world around me and don't forget that which I have studied or experienced. It's a shame the world cannot take a page from my book and remember, but this is unfortunately the way of things as I have learned.

"In any event," she said, breaking out of the thoughtful state she had been gradually putting herself in, "I suggest you remain quiet about the Book of Black for now. I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore about your situation and about Professor Quirrell, I speak with the headmaster often."

"Okay," Angela said; despite the ominous nature of the Gray Lady's talk, Angela wasn't feeling as nervous or scared as she would have expected. The wheels were in motion for Angela to initiate learning about the spells she had hidden in her mind since the ghost would be talking to Dumbledore soon. And besides, nothing really had changed from before: she was still a Twink who couldn't fly a broom - at least now she had a few more answers to her questions.

The sun was beginning to set outside as Angela could see out the windows, and she felt she had spent enough time in the teacher's lounge; she didn't want any faculty members to walk in on her while she was talking with the Gray Lady, even if they already knew she was a Twink. She got up from her chair and thanked the ghost for her time, smiling that she had been able to at least get some of this situation off of her chest. The ghost floated upward off the ground and smiled in return, leading Angela out of the room and back into the hallway. Dinner would be starting soon and Angela wasn't planning on missing that under any circumstances, so the two said their goodbyes and headed off to their respective destinations, a grumble in Angela's tummy as she rushed off to the Great Hall.