Permission for Poppy

Permission for Poppy

The Hogwarts Express rattled its way through the countryside, heading back to London and the summer holidays. One girl sat in the corner of a compartment, ignoring the other three occupants and looking out of the window. The scenery was passing unnoticed, however, as she was too engrossed in her thoughts to pay attention. She'd managed to put off thinking about this for most of the journey, but soon she'd be seeing her mother, and had to think about what to say.

Each of the pupils in her House and year, whose sixteenth birthdays would fall before the end of the approaching fifth year, had been handed a permission slip by Professor Palmer. This wasn't as straightforward, to Poppy's thinking, as the Hogsmeade permission slip had been. This new slip read as follows:

I, (there was a space for a signature), give my permission for Poppy Pomfrey to be provided with Prophylaxis Potion by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once she attains the age of 16, should she wish to make use of it.

I understand that this potion is both a contraceptive and a prophylactic for sexually-transmitted diseases.

At first glance, this just seemed so innocent, but then it had turned, in Poppy's mind, into a different wording:

I, Delia Pomfrey, give my permission for my young daughter to become a screaming teenager, to have sex with boys without my being able to advise if they're suitable, and even without my knowing who they are. I just want Hogwarts to make sure she doesn't become pregnant, and I don't care if the school completely ignores my wishes that she should wait until she's married.

I understand that the potion that will stop her getting pregnant will also protect her from diseases that shouldn't even be spoken of in polite society. Clearly, this means that such diseases are endemic within Hogwarts' pupil population.

She'd happened to overhear her mother's views on the subject when her parents were discussing a cousin's wedding which took place only six months before the birth of the cousin's child. Her mother had made her opinions on the subject quite clear, and Poppy had no intention of even showing her the permission slip.

That, of course, left her father as a possibility. Poppy wasn't sure she could ever even bring up the subject with him. Besides, he was a Muggle, and had always seemed unclear on the whole subject of potions, charms and other magical terms. She wasn't sure she could face explaining enough about potions, and then have to face his reaction to the permission slip.

One possibility would be to simply ignore the slip. It wasn't as if she had to get it signed. She could simply wait until she married, and please her mother. Well, that assumed that her mother didn't know about these from her day -- Poppy wished now she'd asked Professor Palmer how long the school had been handing these out. If she did know about them, and hadn't seen Poppy's, she might assume the worst: that Poppy had actually forged her mother's signature and that she was having sex with any boy who happened to look at her twice.

Forgery was, of course, an idea. She could try to forge her mother's signature. After all, wasn't there a bundle of letters from her parents in her school trunk? Some of them had her mother's signature on, so she'd just have to practice a bit before trying to sign the permission slip.

How much would it matter, though, if she didn't bother with it at all? If she simply left it in the trunk, didn't show it to her parents, and didn't forge a signature on it? It wasn't as if she was that close to Alfie. Or Thomas. Or even Julian. Surely they wouldn't be upset if she didn't have a signed permission slip?

On the other hand, she could give the slip to her mother and tell her she didn't want it, to reassure her mother that she hadn't forged her mother's signature. But ... suppose she didn't know about them? That would be just too embarrassing.

She turned to look at the others in her compartment. Mellie was trying to juggle four cloth balls she'd conjured, Barbara was jogging Mellie's arm so that she'd miss them, and Perdie was reading Fantastic Beasts -- again. None of them looked as if they were in mental torment about the permission slips, though she knew they would all be sixteen by the end of the fifth year. They must have got the slips too -- in fact, Mellie definitely had, as she was sitting next to Poppy when Professor Palmer handed them out. Were they simply avoiding thinking about them? Had they already decided what they were going to do about them? Would she ask them what they had decided?

She felt her cheeks grow hot, and turned to look out of the window again. Even just thinking about broaching the subject with the three girls who shared her dormitory, who were in most of the same classes as her, who did their homework together with her, was making her blush. She had to accept it: she would never be able to even mention the subject to either parent. She was closer to these three girls, after four years together at Hogwarts, than she was to either of her parents.

If only the boys' potion could prevent pregnancy, as well as diseases. Then she wouldn't need to think about it.

Ruling out that option left only two. She could forge her mother's signature, or she could ignore the whole issue. She admitted to herself that she really didn't want to forge a signature. It couldn't be more embarrassing to tell the boys, if they asked, than to have to do the sort of hunting around for somewhere private to be together that she'd heard gossip about. And -- well, being with a boy for that reason just had to be more embarrassing, at least for the first time, than explaining to them that she'd turned yellow and given up on the whole idea. She wondered briefly what it was actually like, then gave up on that thought and tried to concentrate on the scenery.

With a shock, she realised that she'd thought so long that they were already in Bedfordshire. A train going through Beds. How very appropriate to her train of thought. Beds were ... no, she was looking at the scenery. She was not thinking of that silly permission slip. Or Alfie. Definitely not. Or Thomas. That was right out. If Julian hadn't been in the next compartment, trying to sing something, he would have been easier to ignore. But she wasn't thinking about him either. They could still be friends. They'd been friends for four years, hadn't they? None of this modern thinking needed to interfere with their friendship just because they were getting older, did it? The seven of them had been friends since they started at Hogwarts together, after all.

She wondered if friendships really did change as people got older. Would she still see any of those three boys after leaving Hogwarts? Would she see any of these three girls, for that matter? At least with the girls she didn't have to wonder if their friendship would end next year. With the boys ... she didn't know how true it was, but she'd heard that sex was more important to boys. Although, would they know that if they had never had sex either? Would they stop being friends with her if she didn't want to have sex? If so, she realised, maybe they weren't such good friends anyway.

The train was now rattling through the outer areas of London. They'd be on platform nine and three-quarters in less than twenty minutes. Her mother would be there. She needed to decide now whether to say anything.

Poppy decided. She would not tell her parents about the permission slip, she would not forge their signatures and she would not be having sex with any of the boys next year. She could simply ignore the permission slip, and enjoy the holiday instead of worrying about it.

As she got off the train, dragging her trunk, her mother came up to help her. Julian was getting out of the train too, and she could see Alfie and Thomas already on the platform and talking about something. She wondered if they were talking about their permission slips. It didn't matter. If they were really her friends, it wouldn't bother them that hers wasn't signed. If they weren't, then she wouldn't miss their 'friendship'.

As she pushed the trolley with her trunk toward the exit, following her mother, she wished the school didn't even have these permission slips. She'd have had a much happier journey home if they hadn't existed. She wouldn't now be worrying how strong her friendships with the boys really were. She wouldn't, even now she was going through the exit to the Muggle side, still be obsessively thinking about those stupid, stupid pieces of parchment!

One thing she was sure of. She'd never force pupils to go through this ordeal if she were ever in a position of authority over them.

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