Sororal Devotion

CHAPTER SIX

Sororal Devotion

I was still reeling from the astonishment when, Herbology homework finished, I went down to dinner. Before I reached the Hufflepuff table, I heard Ella-Jane's voice bawling from the wrong end of the Hall.

"It has nothing to do with how ugly you are! It's because you're stupid!"

I raced over to the voice. Ella-Jane was standing on a Slytherin bench, bellowing down at Cecilia.

"I'm not ugly, I'm choosy," Cecilia protested. "I've been asked by five different boys, but do you think I'd go to a ball with any old berk who asked me?"

"Yes, you would," said Ella-Jane. "That's how I know that no one has asked you."

"Ella-Jane!" I exclaimed. "Why do we care whether Cecilia has a dance-partner or not?"

Ella-Jane scowled as she jumped down. "She started it. She said that you'd never find a partner."

"Well, she's wrong. I do have a partner. But is it worth all the fuss?"

"Yes, it is! This ball is another excuse to get us into trouble with Dad." Ella-Jane called after Cecilia, "Did you hear that, Miss Cabbage-Brain? Sally-Anne does have a dance-partner!"

"Then it must be Filch! And not even Filch would ask you, Ella-Jane!"

Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass howled with mirth. For a moment I really wanted to tell them that I was going with Zabini, just to wipe the smirks off their faces. But something stopped me. It wasn't their business, after all.

"I wouldn't go to a stuffy old ball with anyone," declared Ella-Jane. "Have you any idea how stupid you all look, fussing over dancing and dress-robes? I wouldn't even go to a ball with – with Roger Davies – with Cedric Diggory – with Blaise Zabini!"

As I seized Ella-Jane's arm, hoping she would go and sit quietly with the Gryffindors, Cecilia's face drained as white as coconut. Her mouth fell open in utter horror. "None of them would..." she whispered, but without conviction. Ursula chose that moment to walk past, and Cecilia clutched at her sister, white-faced. "Ursula! Ella-Jane says... This can't be right... She thinks some pure-blood is taking Sally-Anne to the ball!"

Ursula tried to soothe Cecilia while I dragged Ella-Jane away hissing, "What if a teacher had walked in while you were shouting?"

Ella-Jane was unrepentant. "Why do you think Cecilia's trying to stop you going to the ball with a pure-blood? Is she jealous?"

"Probably." Everyone knew that Roger Davies was a half-blood and that Cedric Diggory was taking Cho Chang, so presumably Cecilia was upset at the thought that I might be going with Zabini. Well, I was. But I hadn't said so. It was sheer coincidence that Ella-Jane had guessed correctly; and only Cecilia would have been paranoid enough to take Ella-Jane's angry ranting seriously. "But it's absurd. I mean, we're only fourteen, and this is just one dance!"

"Do you know how many of the Hogwarts girls are already engaged?" Ella-Jane retorted. "Astoria Greengrass told me. Her sister Syrinx is going to marry Marcus Flint the minute she finishes her N.E.W.T.s."

"But that's..."

Ella-Jane nodded firmly. "It's what happens to pure-blood girls who are allergic to work. They marry. If Ursula doesn't have a fiancé by this time next year, she'll go into panic. I expect Cecilia caught the panic off her. That's why you wouldn't catch me dead at that stinky old Yule Ball. It's just a cattle-market for spouse-hunters, and I'm not ever getting married!"

"Sorry to interrupt, Professor Binns, but Miss Perks needs to go across to Deputy Head's office immediately."

My heart leapt to my throat. Professor Binns didn't seem to notice that Filch was in his classroom, but I stood up anyway, with every fourth-year staring at me.

"It's trouble," said Filch gleefully. "Lady in the fireplace was most insistent. You have big, big trouble."

Mum! I thought, my heart hammering. Or Dad? Molly-Rose, Xavier, a grandparent? I couldn't imagine what would be serious enough to justify pulling me out of lessons, especially as there was no sign of Ella-Jane or the Runcorn girls near Professor McGonagall's office. She indicated that I should enter and left me to approach the hearth alone.

My stepmother's head was in the flames. "Sally-Anne, how dare you do this to Cecilia?"

I waited, wondering what I had done.

"Cecilia tells me that she doesn't have a partner for the Yule Ball, but that someone from Slytherin house is taking you!"

My throat might have been tied up with string: I had not a word to say.

"If you want a hop at this party, aren't there any Hufflepuffs who would take you? How dare you cut in on the eligible pure-bloods before Cecilia's had a chance! Tell me at once, what's his name?"

I opened my mouth, then had a moment of defiance. His name was none of their business! It wasn't a good idea to antagonise Cressida directly, so I asked, "Don't you think Ella-Jane might exaggerate?"

"The Malfoy boy has confirmed that your partner is in Slytherin, but he was cagey about the name. It had better not be Malfoy himself! Cecilia thinks it's Blaise Zabini. Answer me, Sally-Anne! Are you stealing Cecilia's escort?"

"No," I said, finding my heartbeat was normal again. "I promise. I haven't been stealing anyone from anyone. Cressida, I really do need to be in a lesson right now."

Cressida might not have believed me and she might have had more questions for me, but suddenly I was racing out of McGonagall's office, for the first time in my life glad to be going to History of Magic. It was stupid to run away from a rebuke, of course; my stepmother would only find a way to punish me later. But it was almost as if I was jinxed to preserve my privacy.

To think I was going to this trouble for the sake of Blaise Zabini, a swaggering show-off whom I barely liked!

History of Magic dragged to an end at last, and on the way out Zacharias Smith stopped me.

"Sally-Anne – listen, I'm needing to tell you something. It's about this Yule Ball. No, I'm not asking you to be my partner – do not get the wrong idea."

Thank goodness, I couldn't help thinking.

"But have you a partner yet?"

"Yes, I have, but..."

"Good. I mean, congratulations. You have a partner. But it's not Blaise Zabini, is it?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Zacharias, why does this matter?"

"Do not be all huffy with me! I'm not wanting to break your heart, but I'm needing to warn you. Zabini keeps on asking girls to the ball. But he's not meaning it. It's some daft bet he has with Malfoy, to see how many girls will accept him before he's found out."

I stared. "So he really might have invited Cecilia as well!"

"I'm not knowing exactly who. But he definitely has this bet, and I've already caught him out asking a couple of them."

Zacharias was tactless, but he had no reason to make this up. I lifted my chin and tried to look dignified. "Thank you for warning me, Zacharias. I'm by no means broken-hearted; I only accepted Zabini to be polite."

"Desperate, were you? Who'd you rather go with?"

"Terry – " The truth escaped before I could control myself; Zacharias had tricked me! "Well, just about anyone, really!" I finished. "I ought to have known better than to accept a Slytherin. Thank goodness I'm well out of it."

I tried to remind myself that Zacharias was probably trying to help; but I could have punched his snub-nose when he loudly replied, "I'll spread the word that you're available, then. Good luck!"

Spread the word to Cecilia, I said to myself. Let her tell her gold-digging mother that I'm not stealing anyone's escort! But all I heard in my head was Zacharias broadcasting to a crowd of boys that Sally-Anne Perks had been vain and naïve enough to take Zabini seriously, so she was obviously really desperate for a dance-partner.

I decided to keep to myself for a while! I would definitely not pay any attention to Terry in tomorrow's Potions lesson.

But I had no choice about that, because Terry abandoned Michael Corner at the dungeon door in order to move in next to me. My cheeks flamed scarlet when I realised that Wayne had also taken over the seat next to Megan (some people never give up!), Robert Rivers was chatting to Mandy Brocklehurst, and Justin was politely asking if he could sit next to Susan, which of course left Ernie to the undivided attention of Hannah.

"Let me sharpen your knife," said Terry. "Practus! I'll measure the edelweiss roots if you'll cut the arvensis stalks."

He sounded so normal that I dared to steal a glance at him.

"It is still term-time," hissed Snape. "You all know to work in silence – fifty points from Hufflepuff and fifty from Ravenclaw!"

Terry gave me a look. Snape evidently hadn't noticed how hard the whole class was working. Terry was suppressing his laughter, as if Snape-behaving-like-Snape was somehow funny, and I was giggling over the edelweiss roots for no reason at all. We chatted like friends throughout the lesson. Terry told me that he came from a family of Muggle potioneers, and I recalled that both Hereford and Liverpool had Boots shops in their high streets – I had never made the connection with Terry.

"My parents don't own shares or anything," he told me. "The firm was founded too long ago. But my family has always worked there – that's where Dad met Mum."

"Was it a real shock to come to Hogwarts and find out that all that Muggle Potions was wrong?"

"Muggle chemistry isn't exactly wrong; it's just that there are huge areas missing – everything to do with magical ingredients. I'm really looking forward to the Potions N.E.W.T., when I can find out exactly how the magical component works. Perhaps I'll understand better then why we aren't allowed to share magical Healing with the Muggles."

The lesson ended disastrously, when a cauldron exploded, for which Zacharias and Michael Corner earned an on-the-spot detention. Terry departed with a cheery, "See you!" and soon Megan and Hannah were standing between us.

"Did he ask you?" Megan's eyes were sparkling.

"Ask me what?"

"You looked as if you were having fun together," supplied Hannah. "So we wondered..."

"Did he ask you to the ball?"

"Oh. No, I... wasn't thinking about the ball." My stomach dropped as I admitted, "He didn't ask me."

"Shall I give him a hint?" asked Megan.

"Better not," said Susan. "He's just had all the hints that anyone could reasonably need."

A chill settled on my very empty stomach. If I'd really given that many hints – without even meaning to – and Terry hadn't taken them, then he clearly wasn't planning to ask me to the ball. "Let's go to lunch," I said, trying to keep a wobble out of my voice.

But we were all wrong. At break the next morning, Terry very deliberately approached me, wearing a slightly nervous smile, and came straight to the point.

"Morning, Sally-Anne. Do you have a partner for the ball yet?"

"No."

"Good. Would you like to go with me?"

"Yes – yes, I would." It was automatic; I hardly knew it had happened before Terry's grin became broad and natural. "I'd like that very much!" Suddenly the winter sky was like silver and the bare tree-branches were dancing in the wind. I was going to the ball with Terry!

"I think I should warn you," he said, "that I can't actually dance."

"Nor can I. None of my friends can, except Susan. But didn't Madam Hooch say something about teaching us on Saturday?"

"That could be – "

"There you are, Sally-Anne, showing off in front of the boys again!" Ursula's voice cut into the conversation like a foghorn.

I felt myself flushing, but Terry was still relaxed. "It's amazing what some people think they know about other people's business," he said.

"Ursula could write a book about other people's business," I told him.

"She's a creative storyteller, is she? Perhaps she should be a novelist."

"Sally-Anne, pay attention when I speak to you!"

But I didn't pay attention. I was remembering that I had to find myself some dress-robes. There must be something suitable in the second-hand section of Gladrags.

On Friday, as I emerged from the Hufflepuff common room for dinner, I saw my father in the Entrance Hall.

"Dad..."

"Don't look so surprised to see me!" He pecked my cheek. "Are you packed? You of all people can't have forgotten the plan!"

"I... Did we have a plan?"

He blinked. "You're coming home for Christmas, remember? Goodness, did Ursula forget to tell you? Never mind, no harm done. Go and check that Ella-Jane and Cecilia have remembered, and meet us here in ten minutes."

"Dad, what is the plan?"

"Did Ursula tell you that her Aunt Messalina is home from Brazil? We're having a big family dinner on Christmas Eve. Yes, yes, I know this Yule Ball thing is on; Dumbledore's arranged a special Portkey to have you dancers back at Hogwarts in time for that. But we couldn't leave Ella-Jane at school, pining over a ball that she's too young to attend, so Cressida said she should come home and meet Messalina. And then we decided it would be nice to have all of you home for at least the first half of the holidays. Ah, here's Ursula now!"

Ursula, dressed in her cloak and lugging her trunk, was carrying her cat across her shoulders. She glanced at us triumphantly, realised that Dad wasn't angry, hesitated a moment, then plastered on a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Flavian! Cecilia's just locking her trunk. I bet Ella-Jane's still crawling under her bed looking for socks."

"Ursula," I hissed, "does Ella-Jane know she's supposed to be leaving school tonight?"

Ursula shrugged. "If you don't want her to cop it, I suggest you check that out."

Ella-Jane, when I called her out of the Gryffindor common room, did not know; but finally I made her understand the situation and pack her trunk, ran back down to the cellars to pack my own, and made excuses for her as we waited for her in the Entrance Hall.

"I'm going to tell Dad that Ursula didn't tell us," she grumbled as she finally arrived. "McGonagall still thinks I'm staying in school over Christmas!"

But she didn't tell Dad, of course. By the time the Portkeys had brought us back to Liverpool, Dad was happily wondering how many gallons of champagne we would need and whether we would run out of Spellotape before we finished our present-wrapping. Cressida pounced on me for help in the kitchen.

"Not a minute too soon!" she exclaimed. "As Ursula told you, we're hosting a family party for twenty-two on Christmas Eve, and my sister is accustomed to living off satin and sable in Brazil. We have to make almond icing – chestnut stuffing – mincemeat... Do you know the best way to boil a plum pudding?"

"The best way is to boil the pudding six weeks before it will be eaten and then store it in the airing cupboard."

She gasped in fury, as if I had spoken some mortal insult. "That must be a Muggle custom. You will certainly find a charm to accelerate the time for now! Sit there at that table and write out a menu for Christmas dinner, two lunches and a breakfast, together with a complete plan for the preparation and cooking."

I tried to tell myself that it was a compliment if Cressida trusted my cooking over her own. I wondered how she was going to seat twenty-two people around a dining suite that had trouble fitting eight. I hoped I could owl Terry to explain why I had left Hogwarts so suddenly. And I worried that I wouldn't have time to go shopping for a Christmas present for Mum.

At noon a week later, the oven door closed on two huge turkeys, each glazed with honey and rosemary and bursting with chestnut stuffing. Cressida had howled that the eighty-degree oven temperature would leave the meat raw and that a thirty-hour roasting period would dry it to straw. But Great-Grandma Flourish's plain-bound book clearly stated that the only correct way to roast was long and slow. Terry had explained to me that this was because proteins toughen under high temperatures – according to him, cooking was just applied chemistry. I washed the last mixing-bowl and began to sift the icing sugar. Today was the earliest time I could royal-ice the Christmas cake without the almond icing turning it yellow; it was also the latest time I could royal-ice it and be confident that the icing would be hard enough by tomorrow. It was also the earliest sensible time to make the trifle, the bread sauce, the bacon curls and the tomato soup.

The kitchen door opened. "I think you need a hand in here," said Dad. "I've brought you some house-elves." Following him in line were Molly-Rose (bewildered and still holding a book), Cecilia (sulky) and Ella-Jane (grinning). "Give us each a task, Sally-Anne. It isn't fair that you do all the work."

"You could all start by washing your hands. Now, if Molly-Rose could grate breadcrumbs... Cecilia could cut the fat off the bacon... Ella-Jane could wash her hands again before she chops tomatoes... and if Dad could spread jam on the stale cake that I left in that tin... Oh no, where is it?"

Dad smiled forgivingly. "I think Xavier ate it yesterday, the little rogue! Never mind, give me another task for now, and I'll buy you some cake before Spencer's closes this evening."

"I hate touching raw meat," complained Cecilia.

"I hate people who complain," muttered Ella-Jane.

"How do I separate the egg-yolks, Sally-Anne?" asked Dad. "Is there a charm that does it for me?"

Molly-Rose grated silently, grating the skin off one knuckle as she progressed.

"Why should Sally-Anne make all the rules?"

"Because she's the only one who knows how to cook!"

"Do I sift the cornflour before I measure it or after?"

"Sally-Anne, is this enough breadcrumbs?" A drop of blood fell onto the rim of Molly-Rose's dish.

"I don't see why Ursula gets away with not doing anything!"

"It's because she's too busy staring at herself in the mirror."

"Girls, don't bicker. Let's sing a Christmas carol!"

We had dutifully raised a stanza of Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Terry had told me that he didn't consider this a Christmas carol) when the door opened again.

"This is absurd!" Cressida stood in the doorway, her earrings swinging dangerously. "Flavian, you have four of them to help you here, while I'm struggling with the table-setting and candles all by myself. To say nothing of having Xavier run around underfoot! He was nearly crushed when I Banished the sofa upstairs. Oh, look at how Molly-Rose is dripping blood all over the breadcrumbs – that lot will have to be thrown out! Ella-Jane, you disgusting child, you should tie a tea towel over your tangled mop before you handle food. Out of the kitchen, you two – you can both help me!"

Ella-Jane and Molly-Rose glanced at me apologetically, then followed Cressida's pointing finger out of the door. Cecilia stabbed her knife into the pile of bacon rashers and followed them. Dad let his wooden spoon fall into the egg bowl, trying to look as if there was nothing in the world to quarrel about.

"Flavian, we have to come to a sensible decision. Having six children sabotaging our every move just doesn't work when we have to organise a dinner-party for twenty. Xavier's too young to know any better, but Ella-Jane and Molly-Rose... Everywhere I look, they're destroying something! I really, really think we should send them back to their mother."

Dad's jaw dropped. "Fine, darling, but I thought you wanted your sister to meet our family."

"I did, but it's just causing too much chaos. Let's grant Julia the favour of extra access time at Christmas. Sally-Anne can stay; she at least knows how to make herself useful; but I want Ella-Jane and Molly-Rose in the Floo within the hour."

"Anything you say, sweetheart. Sally-Anne, how do I...? No, you'd better finish this; I'll help your stepmother shift the furniture. How much longer do you think you'll need the dining table to stay in the kitchen?"

And so, to their own delighted amazement, my sisters were shunted into the Floo to spend Christmas with Mum, because Cressida had never intended to trouble her glamorous sister with her younger stepdaughters. But I was permitted to stay because, after all, who else was going to cook the Christmas dinner?