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THIRTEEN MERMAIDS

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       IN HOLLY'S ENTIRE wizarding-school career, she has never seen so many people complaining about it being a little cold.

       Vests and long-sleeved t-shirts are being worn underneath school shirts. Groups of friends are standing closer to each to keep warm, like they're penguins. Everyone seems to be wearing a scarf, gloves, and a hat, and if you're not, constantly frowns get sent in your direction. Like you're strange, for having a little bit of warm blood.

       This weather is not cold, not for Holly's standards. She's gotten used to the winter weather at Durmstrang, where teachers got fussy about wearing scarves and such in lessons, so everyone had to figure out how they can keep warm in a freezing castle. Holly's under the impression that you can find out who attended Durmstrang because they'll know the warming spell they all taught each other, the spell that no one else seems to be aware of — the legend goes that one student came across a book that had been untouched since the Tudors, and found it amongst spells that tried to curse Henry VII.

       Although, having said this, Holly isn't complaining about the amount of blankets that have seemed to appear around the Slytherin quarters of the school. She sits on her bed with the light-pink blanket, and Pansy sits opposite her, both of them looking down at the golden egg.

      It's still a mystery. How is she supposed to figure out what this egg does, when every time she attempts to open it, it begins to screech like a vampire in the sun? Maybe she's not thinking through this logically, maybe she's missed something so simple. Maybe there's a little engraving on the egg, a cryptic code describing the next task.

      She checks. There isn't.

      Holly loudly grumbles and moves, lying down, curled-up, where she was sitting. She looks up at Pansy, who's still frowning at the egg.

       "This is ridiculous," says Pansy, and her expression moves from a frown to a look of anger, like she wishes the egg could combust into flames. Maybe that's what they're supposed to do. "Why is this so difficult to understand? It's an egg. An egg. How can an egg be so difficult to decipher?"

       Susannah, from above Millicent's four-poster bed, snorts. "Maybe you're just overthinking it," she suggests. Holly wishes she could glare at the ghost. Overthinking? That's an understatement. "Maybe you just need to boil it, or something. Like a boiled egg."

      "I've lost the will to live," Holly declares, her face buried in her duvet. "Maybe they'll have some unwashed grapes leftover in the kitchen, I can eat one of those, die, and get dropped in the ocean at noon..."

      "Okay," says Pansy, a little confused. Holly tilts her head, and Pansy's still looking at the egg, as if staring at it for long enough will entice it to open up. But, unfortunately, it does not work. Pansy sighs, and Holly sits back up. "I suppose it's a good thing we're looking at it in here, every time you've opened it in the common room the mermaids look like they're going to break through the windows—"

       "PANSY! YOU'RE A GENIUS!"

       Holly's eyes widen. Pansy frowns, looking like a deer in headlights, as Holly, grinning, stands up. She wobbles a bit, standing on the bed, but she's too over the moon to notice. She's got it. She's got it!

       "What did I say?"

      "Mermaids!"

      "Mermaids?" says Pansy, looking incredibly confused. But, then, it settles in, and she lets out a delighted squeal, joining Holly standing on the bed. "Mermaids!"

       "That's it!" says Holly, grabbing onto Pansy's hands, and jumping up and down. "Mermaids! So the egg has to be put underwater before it can say anything—!"

       Susannah cackles. "Told you!"

       Holly jumps off of the bed, holding onto the golden egg. She helps Pansy get down, and Holly looks down at the egg, the thing she wanted blasted into smithereens a couple minutes prior to the realisation. Mermaids. How has it taken her so long to realise? It's not like her common room's next to them!

       "So you've got to go to one of the bathrooms, surely?"

       "Yeah," says Holly. "No one uses the prefect one, right?"

       "I don't think so," says Pansy.

       Holly grabs the egg with one hand and Pansy's hand with another, and begins pulling her out of their dorm room. "Well, hurry up, then!" she says. "We've got a task to figure out!"

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      LUCKILY, THE NEXT DAY happens to be a Saturday, which for students third-year and above, tends to involve a walk into Hogsmeade. Holly, wearing a black woolly hat borrowed from Pansy ("It looks like you're making fun of us cold people, Hol, if you go into Hogsmeade wearing that fucking beret—" "But Pansy, look at the little insects embroidered onto it!") trudges through the snow, her hands shoved into her winter coat.

      The majority of her friends, thankfully, chose to stay in school, because most of them didn't do any of the holiday homework, and are now trying to finish it before it's due. Holly, however, is on a mission, and this is the sort that she's glad her friends aren't around to see — she already knows that her friends aren't the biggest fans of Harry, which by this point she's beginning to accept, and she knows that if they're in town whilst she's speaking to him, they'll be nearby, watching, seething.

       Susannah floats down beside her, looking a little bored. "Your friend's in the broomstick place," she says, pointing towards The Three Broomsticks. Holly nods, and she sees Susannah begin to grin. She looks more like a demon than usual. Hm. "Speaking of your friend, what's up with that? Is this whole snake house-versus-lion house feud so deep that you went green during the ball, when you saw him with—"

       "I will get you exorcised one day," Holly hisses.

       "Oh, sure," says Susannah. "And you'll admit you were jealous—"

      "Why would I be jealous?" asks Holly, whispering as she walks. She tries her best to keep her head down, so people don't see her talking to seemingly nothing.

       Susannah floats further into the air. "You tell me."

       "I hate you," says Holly.

      Susannah shrugs. "Many people do."

       Holly sees Susannah dissolve into the air, and she hurries on, making her way towards The Three Broomsticks. Immediately, once she opens the door, the warmth hits her, and she feels the heat growing in her cheeks. She sees Ron and Hermione, and she hesitates for a minute, before she walks up to them.

        Hermione smiles. "Oh, hi, Holly—"

       "Hi," says Holly, and she forces a smile. "Is Harry here?"

       "Yeah, over there," says Ron, gesturing towards a part of the bar hidden away by stained-glass and shelves holding bottles. "He's talking to Bagman, I think—"

        "Thanks for the warning," Holly remarks, and she leaves them to it, walking past the others sitting at the bar, and towards where Ron motioned towards. She pulls off Pansy's hat, putting it in her coat pocket for the time being.

       Luckily the two are there. She grimaces at the sight of Bagman, bitterly remembering how he offered to help before the first task, and she walks up to them, smiling pleasantly.

       "Holly!" says Bagman, looking a little overenthusiastic. Holly wonders if he's trying to compensate for the first task. "How are you? I've been hoping to see you, I haven't seen you in ages!"

      "It's a shame," says Holly, and she glances at Harry, as if to say, have you seen this fucker? "Is there a reason why you've been hoping to see me? And I suppose the same goes for Potter, here...?"

       "Well, I just thought I'd congratulate you again on your splendid performances against the dragons, both of you," says Bagman. Holly, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, nods. She knows she did well. She knows he's sketchy. "Really superb."

       "Thanks," says Harry, but Holly does not reply.

      Holly watches Bagman's gaze move towards the mirror, where a group of goblins are visible in the reflection. "Absolute nightmare," says Bagman, lowering his voice. "Their English isn't too good... it's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup... but at least they used sign language another human could recognise. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook... and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. Bladvak. It means 'pickaxe'. I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them."

       Bagman laughs, loudly. Holly continues to look at him closely, because she doesn't trust him at all. She trusts a stranger more than she trusts him.

       "What do they want?" says Harry.

       "Er — well..." Bagman looks around, his eyes jolting from table to table. Is he nervous? Why would he be nervous? He's talking to two fourteen-year-olds. What. "They... er... they're looking for Barty Crouch."

       Holly frowns. "Wouldn't he be in London, at the Ministry?"

       "Er... as a matter of fact, I've no idea where he is," says Bagman. He keeps on looking from Holly to Harry, and Holly resists the urge to glance at Harry, see what he's thinking about this. "He's sort of... stopped coming to work. Been absent for a couple of weeks now. Young Percy, his assistant, says he's ill. Apparently he's just been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone? Because Rita Skeeter's still poking around everwhere she can, and I'm willing to bet she'd work up Barty's illness into something sinister. Probably say he's gone missing like Bertha Jorkins."

       Bertha Jorkins? Who?

       "Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins?" says Harry.

      Bagman still looks stressed. "No," he says. "I've got people looking, of course, and it's all very strange. She definitely arrived in Albania, because she met her second cousin there. And then she left the cousin's house to go south and see an aunt . . . and she seems to have vanished without trace en route. Blowed if I can see where she's got to . . . she doesn't seem the type to elope, for instance . . . but still. . . . What are we doing, talking about goblins and Bertha Jorkins?"

       Holly tilts her head to the side, just a little.

       "I really wanted to ask you," says Bagman. He lowers his voice, so much so that if Holly wasn't used to the barely-audible Durmstrang whispers, she'd struggle to hear over the clatters of pint glasses and laughter of customers. "How are you getting on with your golden egg?"

       "Er... not bad," says Harry.

      Holly shrugs. "Getting there."

      "Listen," says Bagman. He leans in a little, since he's sitting on one of the bar stools, as is Harry. Holly feels a little uncomfortable. She likes personal space. "I feel very bad about all this... you were both thrown into this tournament, you didn't volunteer for it... and if... if I can help at all... a prod in the right direction... I've taken a liking to both of you... the way you got past the dragons! Well, just say the word."

       Holly glances to her side, where Harry's looking straight at Bagman. "We're supposed to work out the clues alone, aren't we?" he asks, sounding casual.

       "Well... well, yes," says Bagman. "But — come on, Harry — we all want a Hogwarts victory, don't we?"

       Harry asks, "Have you offered Cedric help?"

       "No, I haven't," says Bagman. He begins to frown. Holly begins to smirk. "I — well, like I say, I've taken a liking to you two. Just thought I'd offer..."

       "Well, thanks," says Harry. "But I think I'm nearly there with the egg... couple more days should crack it."

       Bagman looks at Holly, who for the most part has been quiet. She smiles politely. "I mean, I'm perfectly fine, like I've said, it's a little insulting you think I — and Harry too, for that matter — cannot figure out something as simple as an egg," she says. "

       Holly smiles, and turns on her heel. She sees Harry next to her, as she begins to walk away, and she turns to him. "Open the egg underwater," she says.

      Harry frowns. "How did you—?"

      "Well, when I was born, a thing called a brain happened to be in my head," says Holly, and she smiles at him. Behind him, she can see the Weasley twins (she presumes?) talking to Bagman. "It doesn't matter, but since you told me about the dragons, I'm telling you about this task. We're even, yeah?"

       "Um, yeah," says Harry. Holly steps to the side, about to leave and return to her friends back at school, but he sort-of jumps forwards to stop her, and for a second he holds onto her arm, before she forcefully pulls it away. "Wait — open it underwater?"

        Holly nods. "I went to the prefects' one yesterday, since it's usually dead," she explains. "It took forever, though, to figure it out. At one point Pansy had to scare away a couple prefects..."

       "Oh," he says, and she very quickly remembers that her best friend is also the girl that likes to insult his best friends at any chance given to her.

       For a second, she almost jumps into talking about her friends, and how she knows that it's bad, how they make fun of others, but she remembers where she is. The Three Broomsticks, a pub crawling with Hogwarts students, a public place. She knows that it's silly, but she still feels like she's in Durmstrang sometimes, what with where she can say a secret, or not worry about someone overhearing and telling the person she was talking about. So she holds back.

       "Um, let me know once you've figured the egg out," says Holly. "The library has some good books on the next step."

        Harry looks a little horrified, and a little tired. "The next step?"

       "I was annoyed, too, but I suppose the riddle's only there for us to figure out what to prepare for," says Holly. She puts her hands back in her pockets, and one idly holds onto Pansy's hat. "But yeah, um, the next part's not too difficult."

      "That's a relief," says Harry.

       Holly scoffs. "I thought this was all normal for you, being the chosen one," she says. Harry rolls his eyes, the same way as he did the last time she made the remark. She smiles a little, and she looks around. Further into the pub, she spots Lavender Brown, so she supposes Parvati's sitting with her. "How was the Yule Ball, then?"

      Harry looks a little caught off-guard. Which makes complete sense. The instant that Holly said it, she knew how abrupt and strange it sounded, since before that she was talking about something that has no correlation whatsoever to a ball.

      "Er, fine," says Harry.

      "Parvati looked pretty," says Holly. "Are you two—?"

       Susannah laughs. "Aren't you meant to be cunning?" 

      "Um, no," says Harry. "Halfway through she went off with someone else."

      "Oh," says Holly. "That's a — shame."

      "Yeah," he says.

       "Yeah," says Holly. "If I had realised, I would've asked you to dance, or something."

       Harry smiles a little. Ever so slightly. But then, he looks over towards his friends, who are sitting on the same table as before, and, without really looking at her, he says, "I was, um, going to ask you... Just because I thought it made sense, we both didn't have partners and we sort-of needed one..."

       "Oh," says Holly. There's a minute where she isn't quite sure what to do with herself. She feels strange about all of this, but that? What? She wishes she paid more attention in Divination, maybe she could've been warned about this. "Well, I'm flattered, but, um—" She chooses to look down at the wooden floor as she speaks. It makes it a bit less awkward. "I would've said no. I'm really sorry—!"

       "No, no, it's fine!" he says. "It was just an idea, and it's been anyway, it doesn't matter—!"

       Holly looks at him, dead in the eye, knowing either she says this now, or weeks pass without them talking. "I would've love to say yes, but you know what my friends are like," she says, lowering her voice a couple notches. "A while back, they found out we went to the library together and they almost murdered me. You know they — no offence — hate you. And I'm still new here, really, it's a bit early for me to turn around and tell them I think you're nice."

       "It's fine, it doesn't matter—"

       "It does matter," says Holly, her brows furrowing. "I'll see you around."

       She makes her way towards the door, pushing it open and shoving Pansy's hat back on. The door closes after her with a thud, not the sort of pretty twinkling bell a pretty shop would have, and she hurries back to the castle.

       Holly isn't sure why she asked. Why did she ask about the Yule Ball? She remembers the weird feeling she had when he said no. Why the fuck is she reacting to something like this? Because it wasn't the same as before, when her stomach twisted and she was irritable for the rest of the day. She felt... weird. But a different sort. The sort that made her smile, ever so softly, as she walked back up to school.

       Weird.

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"""""weird"""" hm ok