Declaro: Rites of Spring

Private and Public Spheres

The Gryffindor 7th years had decided it really must be some kind of death-eater brainwashing plot, because no one cared about anything else. Homework, Quidditch, clothes, the usual pastimes, suddenly mattered most as skills that might attract a declaration. They were clearly competing with each other though there was no obvious way Seamus' fabulous performance in Quidditch practice would convert into that kind of appreciation. People had even begun to add credit for style, given that there weren't enough new additions every day to make it a really exciting competition. A declaration sent to Padma Patil opened to a soft musical chord and the words "for padma" spelt out in lilac light in the air above her seat. Everyone else's now seemed ordinary by comparison and though the boys professed themselves unimpressed it spawned some fantastic plans for how they would do it. They didn't of course. Outside of Slytherin the students were addressed, but never approached anyone else. Declaring an interest in another student seemed a very Slytherin thing to do all of a sudden.

Most declarations came for the boys. A heated common room debate decided that the anti-rite letters in the Prophet had clearly scored some points along the "seduction of minors" line. According to tradition, declarations were acceptable only in the autumn after one turned sixteen, and the obvious sexual implications were somewhat controversial, a moral ambiguity that seemed to apply more to girls than boys. The Patils and Lavender were furious, and reached some kind of accord with the Slytherin girls on a letter writing campaign which was firmly quashed by Snape. Hermione was torn between outrage at the double standard - everyone knew girls were maturer than boys at the same age anyway - and contempt for the whole arrangement. The few students openly opposed to the rite were no more interested than anyone else in Hermione's theories about "retrograde de-individualisation" so, like Harry, she was left on the edge of the drama.

To be honest, Harry was as surprised as anyone else that his insistence on non-participation had actually meant he was left alone. There had been a tentative approach from the Prophet asking for his opinion, but his curt reply - I have no strong feelings but am not interested in participating - was not even published. Ron forgave Harry for whatever he had done as the week went by and he stayed outside it all. Seamus decided that Harry was making room for everyone else, and profusely thanked him every other day. And he was aware of his reaction being observed whenever Malfoy, Cho, or one of the other really popular students received another owl, but he couldn't have said exactly why. In fact, he was never quite sure after the new owls each weekday morning that he hadn't been waiting for something. It just somehow seemed that the rite didn't involve Harry Potter, and everyone seemed satisfied with that. Everyone else, anyway.

* * *

DEAN:

The high point of every day, right now, is breakfast. Or, rather, the morning owls. We're all waiting, even those of us who say we aren't, to see what happens next.

At the Slytherin table they're really discreet about it. Only sometimes, maybe if it's really worth boasting about and doesn't breach any walking on the dark side secrecy clause, you hear who exactly declared interest in Malfoy, Zabini, or Pansy Parkinson - their key players. Parkinson has her hair tied up in white ribbons today and, yeah I can say it, she's kind of pretty. Nasty bitch though.

Really, Slytherin is made for this - you don't need a conspiracy theory to see that. All that guff about wealth and bloodlines and superior training that keeps their old rivalries going and sets them against everyone else; it's perfect. But who would have picked Ravenclaw as the house where everyone signed up? The upper end of Ravenclaw is a mass of green robes, and Cho Chang's the tiny queen. Maybe they think it's practical or efficient; another way of connecting the best minds? Who knew they were so full of schemes, though? Lavender says there's even a workshop to help compare possible offers. Which is just creepy.

The Hufflepuffs aren't really interested, just polite. Warm congratulations all round and never much gossip. They did come up with the pool of robes, so people who couldn't afford one could borrow, which only offended Ron more - and how off the deep end is he? Two chairs down from me he's shredding bread into little piles and looking red. He'll be off before the owls come. I told Seamus we should put him under Imperius and just make him send a declaration to Hermione. She'll pick him, he'll stop exploding without warning and sulking in between, and we can all enjoy it more. Yep, there goes Ron. Knocks over a chair, mutters sorry but won't look up, storms to the door. Idiot.

Hermione says the Gryffindors are all just showing off. Definitely looking forward to the more competitive bits, I guess. Except Harry. He's watching Ron leave, being really quiet about it all. Maybe we do want to be in the spotlight, doing things first and best. And not really into discretion. Everyone knows everything about the Gryffindor declarations. I've got one, thankfully. Be right embarrassing to get all dressed up and have none: girl I asked to a dance last year, works at the Ministry and her father knows my dad. She only said, "I know we'd make a great team", but at least I got one.

"They're coming," someone says from further up the table. The Prophet's got a new addition to its social pages today, the comprehensive "who's who and who wants who in this year's Rite of Engagement". The owls bring them in as the first plates disappear. Lots of shiny blue wrappers. Must be heaps of new subscribers cause I'm sure there aren't usually so many owls. I'll have to add that to Ron's list of conspiracies. Bunting drops my copy, and a letter, into a half-full plate of rolls, rocketing one into Harry's teacup and onto his neighbour.

"Dean!" she shouts.

"Sorry Ginny." Stupid owl.

* * *

GINNY:

Dean gives me this stupid grin, as if I'm not covered in tea. Harry apologises and casts a cleaning charm. Harry always bends the rules for nice reasons, not just to be an arse like Fred and George. Hermione didn't notice - she can be such a prude - cause she's still thinking about my other stupid brother Ron. I love them, you know, of course. But when something really matters, well they're hopeless. And my parents. Percy tells me I'm not supposed to sit with the 7th years, as if anyone cares, and Mum just will not hear about the Engagement, even though I promised I would save up for my own robes. Not that it matters, cause there's only one person I want to declare anything to and it has to be this year or not at all. I'm holding my breath every day against there being an owl for him and I've got no idea what's wrong with people that they can't see that Harry is so much more interesting and kind and gorgeous than that git Malfoy - who is so evil - or Dean Thomas and his clumsy owl. Not that I want anyone to, I guess, but it's infuriating.

And the most frustrating thing is it's the perfect opportunity. I've read the section in the Guide and I borrowed Hetty Sage's Ministry pamphlet too, but I have to be sure. Hermione might help, but she would tell Ron, or worse Harry. I know there's no one else. Hermione's in love with Ron, everyone knows though who knows why, and he never even liked her that way and there's no one else. If it's allowed... if I can get Mum and Dad to see that it's just a really wizarding way to date. And if I'm not allowed then it's definitely an evil plot. And they'd never approach the Hero-of-the-Wizarding-World, who's still just a really sweet guy, and sometimes I think he's just going to see. . .

* * *

Harry pulled his books from under the table. Twelve minutes to make the library before first period. Though, shit, probably not. Level 7 Charms: Persuasion and Illusion was clearly dripping tea, and definitely stuck to N.E.W.T.s Potions Primer #2, and to this.

"What's that?" Hermione asked at his shoulder.

"Huh. One of those pamphlets on the rite. I bet it's Ginny's. Think Ron'll understand?"

"Let's not find out."

She left him at the bottom of the stairwell. As no one was looking, and he'd never got the chance before, Harry discreetly glanced at the leaflet for the "young wizard or witch interested in the Rite of Engagement".

* * *

It's a significant time in your life and brilliant fun as well, and the Rite of Engagement is a time-honoured way to find your place in wizarding society. We know you have many questions, but here is some basic information to get you started.

Ten frequently asked questions - the answers you need:

1. Who can participate in the Rite of Engagement?

Any wizard or witch, in the season after they turn sixteen.

2. What is an Engagement?

Technically: a wizarding contract with a youth and his/her representatives, for a period of at least three years of protection and advancement to the mutual advantage of all parties.

3. What does that mean? What can an Engagement offer me?

Career opportunities, training and mentorship, friendship, financial and personal support, alliances and business opportunities, travel, experience of the world, and even romance!

4. Who might offer me one?

Any wizard or witch can offer to negotiate an Engagement with you, as long as they can fulfil what they offer you. The Ministry protects you in this with a wizarding contract.

5. Do I have to accept?

You can remove a supplicant from your list at any time, or decide not to make any Engagement at all. You're under no obligation.

6. Can I change my mind afterwards?

The contract is binding, and any decision should be taken carefully and in consultation.

7. Is an Engagement a form of marriage?

Long ago the Engagement was a kind of marriage. But for you it's a chance to find your place in the world with the direct support of a partner who will become a lifelong friend.

8. Why didn't my parents do this?

The recent difficult conflict has meant wizards needed to focus on preservation. In a new period of stability the Wizarding Revival hopes to bring back our rich traditional culture.

9. How do I become involved?

This pamphlet sets out the traditional steps of the Rite, from the declaration in early Autumn, through different stages of presentation and negotiation, to an engagement at mid-Summer. You begin by accepting a declaration of interest, or you making your own.

10. Who will help me decide?

Talk to your parents or guardians, who will usually be involved at every stage. The Department of Wizarding Youth can also help if you need independent counsel.

[By M. Vermeel, Wizarding Revival, in association with the Department of Wizarding Youth. Level 2, 1107 Diagon Alley, London WWC1. Floo: "Wizarding Revival".]

* * *

RON:

"I'm done, Professor." As usual he doesn't look at me.

He doesn't look at the clock. "Sort that box of index cards."

I tip out the cards indexing dried animal parts, ugh, and began to make alphabetical piles. "By phylum, genus and species."

This was the last night. Snape-free evenings. Snape-free evenings of rite gossip. A particularly vigorous toss sends the whole pile cascading to the floor. Shit. He will not make me lose it and get another week.

"Mr Weasley." Snape leans back in his chair, running the quill thoughtfully through his fingers. "You realise you must apologise to Mr Zabini?"

Fine. "All right," I say. And the bastard just sits there looking at me, knowing I know what he wants me to say. He taps the fucking quill against the edge of his book. I start resorting the cards so I won't have to look at him. But he's still waiting. "I didn't mean it that way." Stupid cordata, stupid nematoda, stupid something-starting-with-a.

"'Pervert' is obviously open to interpretation," he says in a snide voice.

"I wasn't really angry about that." Sigh, there's no avoiding it. "I don't think that."

"So detention ends," he says, "and tomorrow you go back and alienate your friends a little more."

At that I can't help but look up. He's leaning on the desk, looking at me like... like I'm amusing. Fucking bastard. "I didn't." Real smooth, Ron.

"Yes you did; you are," he replies. "As a rule the staff are neither blind nor stupid." He has to hesitate or he won't be snarky bastard Snape, and the world will collapse. "As a rule."

"It's some Death Eater thing, isn't it? Why is Dumbledore just letting it happen? They're. . . they're all fucking obsessed!" And I've walked right into another detention.

"Quite."

Bastard. "What?"

"As you say, they are all obsessed. Leave the cards Weasley, it's clearly beyond you." My hands are kind of hovering, unsure whether to put them back or just get out now.

"Let's assume you're not an idiot, shall we?" he continues. I can't afford to agree or disagree with that. "It can't be stopped, or the Headmaster would have done so, don't you think?" Nodding seems safe, though the idea that I'm having a conversation with Snape is. . . "And thus?" he pauses, but I've no idea. . . "I'm waiting on a response here, Weasley, the extended pause is usually a clue."

"You're saying I have to put up with it."

"I'm saying nothing so insipid." I don't think I have a clue what he's talking about. Or if I do that's so disconcerting I wish I didn't. "You can go," he finally says.

"I don't know that stuff and there's no time," though I'm not sure why I'm protesting this to him. "I can't afford the training or tutoring and. . ."

"You know what's next?"

"I've read the book. I am not stupid," I say, because I'm not. He gives me a sarcastic look. "There's two more weeks of declaration," I count it off on my hand, "and then they move onto gifts and demonstrations. I've already lost."

"Actual homework, Weasley. You may give me false expectations."

"I can't..."

"How might a person," he interrupts, "who doesn't extensive financial resources but is in fact a student at Hogwarts get tutoring in magical feats or assistance with magical gifts?"

"I can't ask... even staff - it's embarrassing."

"Only the very young and the very stupid can afford that kind of pride."

"As if you would help me if I asked you to. I can do with out the extra humiliation."

"I am utterly confident the situation will never arise."

"What does that mean?"

"You've claimed not to be stupid, so I'm sure you'll work it out."

"You think that..."

"I didn't imply I needed your company while you worked it out. Your detention is over."

At the door I need a reality check. "So if I did ask you to tutor me, would you do it?"

"I'm sure we'll never know," he says.

I can only nod. That's confusing enough to be consistent. But, "You have some angle on this," I suggest

"Assuredly." Fine. "Don't forget the apology." So I nod. Why not.

* * *

RON:

Some complicated spell makes Zabini's latest appear as a fiery portrait over the Slytherin breakfast table. It hisses, "Dear Mr Zabini", and with a shiver I realise it sounds like Snape. Pretty impressive spell though. It presents the air with a parchment.

"Zabini."

"Weasley."

They're all looking at me. Probably the staff table, definitely the whole 7th year. "I'm sorry," I say. "About before."

The Slytherins eye Zabini expectantly, and I clearly have to give something more. In the corner of my eye I can see Hermione standing at our table, keeping an eye on me. Hermione. "I was being a dick."

"Yeah."

"So. . . good luck with the fire guy." He smirks at me and then at Millicent Bulstrode, who seems convinced the illusion is doing her ornamental sleeve some kind of harm. You've got to laugh.

I brush past Draco, adjusting his clothes again, vain twit, in a better mood than the whole term so far, and towards my friends. Where Ginny is appalled, Hermione looks concerned, Harry looks panicked, and by the time I get to our table it's obviously not about me. A white owl is insistently shoving something in Harry's direction.