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A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 13: "Whitty Pear"

Floriography - Harmony & Prudence

Summary: Just a weekend with some gals and opening trap doors.

[AO3]

Below is an excerpt of the chapter, full chapter can be viewed from the AO3 link above!

Incessant bangs roused Artemis from measly hours of sleep; Nocturne protested within her arms with a meow. With the still lingering tiredness from the earlier adventure, she managed to shuffle herself up and opened the door.

“Imelda?” Artemis mustered out with a still gravelly voice. Imelda, who stood there with both hands on her hips and dressed in Quidditch gear, snorted.

“Glad you remember my name," said Imelda sarcastically. "Didn’t believe it when Violet said your bed curtains were still shut.” 

“Sshh, you’ll wake Nerida and Priscilla,” shushed Artemis as she let the black-haired girl in. Her simple braid slipped off her shoulder and dangled to her mid-back as she shut the door. Nocturne rubbed himself around her ankles as she read the shared clock. Seven-thirty.

“Nerida would sleep through a bloody graphorn charge. And Priscilla isn’t even here; probably off with whichever friend in season. Hurry on and get changed; we’re going to strategize how to bludgeon that motion sickness out of you.”

“That isn’t how motion sickness works,” mumbled Artemis.

They’d never arranged anything, but they’d run into each other every other morning at the pitch. Or rather, Artemis was already there and Imelda came around in her flying gear. Each time, Imelda insisted Artemis fly with her, and without reason to refuse, she obliged.

Imelda shrugged as she sat at the edge of Artemis’ bed, the beryl eyes on the two sets of folded uniforms on the small, plush ottoman.

“Where’s the rest of your clothes?”

“You’re looking at them,” said Artemis as she grabbed one set.

“Seriously?”

“Dragon?”

“Ah, right, forgot about that.”

Artemis lifted an eyebrow; Imelda smirked.

“Anyways. Priscilla wasn’t thrilled. Insisted I’ve plans tomorrow.”

“Right. You’ll probably be marched into Gladrags and that frilly boutique. Good luck with that,” snorted Imelda. “Anyways, beating out your motion sickness. Spintwitches is open again.”

Artemis stepped behind the shade and started to change. “Spit witches?”

“Spintwitches,” corrected Imelda. “The sporting shop. Albie Weekes runs it – a bit barmy, but he’s got some brains. Heard he made some broom upgrades. Maybe you won’t get sick on a broom with one.”

Artemis grimaced. “I did say I don’t do well with swerves.”

“Yes, but curling on the ground like a pill bug?”

Artemis rolled her eyes at the tease.

“Besides, I don’t own a broom,” noted Artemis as she finished changing. Nocturne jumped onto the table and looked expectantly between her and the mirror on the floor.

“So get one! You won’t need to borrow the school’s then. Plus, it’s a handy way to escape if you’re surrounded by Ashwinder wankers,” reasoned Imelda

Artemis hummed. “You have a point.”

“I always have a point.”

“Fair,” said Artemis as she began her usual braiding ritual.

“Settled then, we’ll go after we fly,” said Imelda. Her beryl eyes met Artemis’ forest greens in the reflection. “Wait here.”

Artemis lifted an eyebrow with half her hair braided as she watched Imelda leave. Nocturne tilted his head before he pawed over two hairpins. She chuckled as she met the cat’s head bump with her own forehead.

“Thank you darling. Such a gentleman.”

Nocturne puffed his chest in pride. Artemis looked back briefly to check that Nerida’s curtains were still drawn. It seemed she really could sleep through a whole conversation.

The door clicked as Imelda returned with another set of Quidditch uniforms before they were flopped on her stack of Healing books.

“Now you have three sets.”

“But I – ”

“ – Keep it, they don’t fit me anymore” insisted Imelda as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip.

Artemis gave a smile. “Thank you, Imelda.”

“Whatever,” said Imelda as she rolled her eyes. Imelda reached toward her desk and picked up the perfume bottle. “La Fleure?”

Artemis chuckled as she finished pinning one braid around her head. “It was a gift. Apparently, it’s for… special occasions, but the bottle’s too beautiful to be stuffed in a drawer.”

Imelda gave a hum as she kept reading the bottle.

Artemis continued wrapping her other braid around. “What is Anne Sallow like?”

“Why?” Imelda asked, her sharp eyebrow lifted.

“Just curious.”

Imelda huffed a laugh.

“Take Sallow, shrink him a few inches, give him long hair and put a decent pair of tits on him.”

“Imelda!”

“You chide, but you’re smiling,” remarked Imelda as she smirked.

Artemis rolled her eyes as she placed the final pin. Her reflection smiled back at her.

“I didn’t need that image, thank you.”

Imelda barked a laugh, though she turned serious a moment later.

“Want my honest opinion?”

“Here I thought you were always honest,” said Artemis. Imelda lifted a corner of her mouth.

“Huh! Didn’t think you had cheek in you. But I’m starving, so after breakfast. A proper breakfast, not just green apples,” said Imelda.

The subject matter closed until they were on their brooms and above the Ravenclaw tower, far away from prying eyes and ears. The cool wind lifted her bangs as her ribbon fluttered.

“Anne’s not a bad sort. Roomed with her before she left. Decent enough chaser that I didn’t want to throttle her. But the general opinion of her went up when she left. Pretty sure only Ominis was her true friend.”

“…went up when she left?”

“Yeah. I assume you know Anne’s been sick since last year?”

Artemis nodded; she’d garnered that to most, Anne Sallow had ostensibly left the school due to a long-term illness. Only Sebastian, Ominis, and now herself knew that she had been cursed.

“Well. Anne’s always been cheery and polite enough to everyone. Taste for chaos that even made Garreth’s explosions look tame… though she partook in most of those. Part of that Crossed Wands club. Had a wicked tongue and temper too. Nobody really talks about the latter two now that she left,” explained Imelda as she moved forward.

Artemis kept up as she casted a pre-emptive libro; the wind pressed against her chest faster and harder. She tightened her core to keep herself as steady as possible.

“When you said Ominis was her only true friend, what did you mean?” Artemis asked curiously. Their voices were louder to cut through the whipping sounds from the speeding air.

“Exactly that. Can’t exactly call Sebastian her friend when he’s her twin. Both are friendly enough with most people, but it’s surface level. Pretty common for Slytherins. Anyways, that trio stuck together like a permanent sticking charm. Even last year, Sebastian and Ominis stuck together and nobody entered that third slot.”

Artemis agreed with that thought. Despite the friendships she’d formed here, Henry would always remain her closest friend. She highly doubted there would be anyone who could surpass him.

“That is, until you gave Sebastian a right battering. It’d been a while since I’d seen either of them take to someone so quickly.”

Artemis chuckled awkwardly; she wasn’t sure where she stood with the blond at least.

“Still got your insides together?” Imelda asked, completely unaware of Artemis’ turmoil.

“Oh yes.”

She casted another Sensory Balancing Charm.

“Then you better keep up. We’re beating out that motion sickness. Race you to Hogsmeade!”

“Again, that’s not how this works...!”

Imelda only deigned her with barked laughter.

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Ch. 17 "Calendula"

Floriography - Health & Trouble

[AO3]

Summary: A month into the new school year. Professor Weasley checks in on progress, and Poppy invites Artemis for some moonlight rescue.

Below is an excerpt of the chapter; full chapter can be viewed from AO3 link above.

The beds of green slowly shifted to red, gamboge, and brown to welcome autumn. Students brought out their warm cloaks and jumpers to welcome the cooler months ahead. This particular afternoon, Artemis sat across from the redhaired Deputy Headmistress in her office. Fresh cups of earl grey wafted their elegant steam as the snow-haired girl rested her hands, right over left, in her lap.

“Miss Loreley, thank you for coming to see me so quickly.”

“It was no trouble, Professor Weasley,” responded Artemis quickly. Her palm tingled from the slight rub of her thumb against the hidden scar.

“It’s been a little over a month since you’ve come to Hogwarts, and I wished to check in on your progress. May I see your Field Guide?”

Artemis dutifully pulled out the tome from her school bag with both hands.

“How have you been adjusting?” Professor Weasley asked as she began to flip through the pages.

“Well, ma’am.”

A perfect blend of bitter and sweet swirled her mouth with her tea.

“I’m glad. I was starting to worry, since you’ve shown up to breakfast only once.”

She swallowed; the liquid felt like molten lava. Her gaze fell to the liquid surface. Reflected back was her carefully neutral façade. The additional Glamour Charm hid the increasingly darkened under eye circles.

“I eat light in the mornings, Professor.”

“I see. Well, you certainly keep yourself busy. Hospital Wing volunteering, the Briar Greenhouse, and I’ve heard you’ve taken to extra broom lessons with Miss Reyes. Nurse Blainey has also expressed that you wish to undertake the next Asclepius Record.”

A small smile stretched the Deputy Headmistress’ lips. Artemis wondered if this woman had ears in every crevice of the school.

“Collectively, all the professors of the mind that you are rapidly catching up to your classmates. You’re making great progress. Well done.”

Artemis’ gaze moved toward the desk as another sip of earl grey glided down her throat.

“Professor, may I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“The room I stayed in my first night… did it disappear?”

No matter how many times she’d passed by that hall, the door never reappeared. Professor Weasley lifted an eyebrow before she chuckled softly.

“I’d wondered when you were going to ask me. Frankly I’m surprised it took you as long as you did.”

Artemis gave a sheepish smile. “I wanted to make sure I’d not been mistaken.”

“Hm. Very well. Nurse Blainey did mention the lack of a… what was it… a Healing mannequin? Perhaps the Room will have it.”

“The… Room, Professor?”

The professor held the Field Guide toward her. “Yes. Come, I’ll show you.”

Artemis followed the Deputy Headmistress without hesitation; her heels clicked as the clumps of students parted the halls. Professor Weasley’s overwhelming presence dulled her own as she followed in the taller woman’s shadow. The seventh-floor corridor wasn’t far, and there were no students there.

“Now, walk past this wall three times, and focus on something you need. To make it simple, how about somewhere to focus on the Asclepius Record?” Professor Weasley suggested warmly and gestured her arm toward the hall.

Artemis began. To and fro, her soft treads barely made a noise on the castle floors. Her mind, however, went broader than the Asclepius Record. She needed somewhere that could offer her all the Healing texts available, including texts in the Restricted Section, for herself, for Professor Fig, for Henry, for Anne even. Somewhere to train her Healing magic. Somewhere to go that wasn’t the Witty Pear if she were ever hurt, but couldn’t raise Nurse Blainey’s suspicion.

A… clinic.

Slowly, a dark cherry wood door unfurled itself from the middle of the greyed brick, and Professor Weasley gave a noise of awe.

“Well done! I do have to say, I’d never seen a wooden door before. Go on in,” encouraged the professor.

The door opened inward to something akin to a hexagonal conservatory. Some sort of conjured sunlight warmed the room from the kinmokusei glass mosaic on the ceiling. Half of the walls were made of clear glass, and beyond was a glade that closely resembled her mother’s glade. The solid walls were painted a pale sky blue, two of them nearly covered by the dark cherry bookshelves full of every other Healing text possible – delightfully, in both English and Japanese. Two Healing training mannequins stood in the corner, where the floor was tiled unlike the rest a light English Oak.

An overly large desk with an overhead glass cabinet stood against another wall, filled with potion vials and other equipment. Hanging baskets hung on the sides, and she was pleasantly surprised the ones already filled contained dwarf roses, lavender, and mints. There was an interesting-looking quill with a bronze ink bottle that stood on the side of the desk under the soft lamp light.

Artemis breathed out in awe. “What is this place?”

“This is the Room of Requirement,” started Professor Weasley. “It’s a room that changes to fit the seeker’s needs. I requested for a comfortable bedroom for you to rest in your first night.

Now, you’ve made quite a canvas for yourself. A rather interesting Desk of Description as well.”

“Desk of Description?”

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve come across a few things you didn’t know what they were; whenever you do, place it here and it’ll tell you what the item is.”

“So, like the Information spell?” Artemis asked.

Professor Weasley nodded. “Yes, though much more powerful. I daresay you could use this space to catch up on your other studies as well. Perhaps take one of those training mannequins to Nurse Blainey?”

“I- yes, Professor, thank you.”

“Speaking of studies… I noticed that Professor Fig has put in a few requests for outdoor excursions,” started Professor Weasley. “He marked them as introducing you to the land’s history and learning to immerse yourself into wizarding communities. Now I must ask… is any of this related to what happened with the dragon attack?”

“Not at all, Professor,” lied Artemis smoothly.

A moment passed between the two before Professor Weasley gave a small, tired smile.

“I see. Now, I shall let you get acquainted with your space – you’re free to use this space as you please, though I do ask you continue to adhere to the school rules.”

“Yes Professor. Thank you, for trusting me with this.”

“You’re welcome. I did, after all, show you this on your first night; I’m sure you would’ve figured out the secret sooner rather than later. Use it well,” said Professor Weasley warmly.

Artemis nodded as she watched the redhead leave. Once the door shut, her shoulders slumped in relief. Lying had been necessary but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She reached into the legside bag and pulled out the mysterious palm-sized box that she’d gotten from the bottom of the Black Lake. She couldn’t believe it’d been a full month since she’d picked this up.

Inside sat three, translucent stones, fashioned into ear pierces onto their velvet bed. The moment she touched one the stone changed colour until it was an iridescent blue-green with a silvery shimmer on the inside.

<<How odd,>> gasped out Artemis before she placed the box onto the desktop near the ink and bottle. Bronze runes lifted from seemingly nowhere as they encircled the box in a flurry before they coagulated into a piece of parchment where the quill wrote at a furious speed. Once it had been completed, she read the words scrawled in bronze ink.

Secret Sharer

Mid-Tier artefact, commonly used to communicate between individuals telepathically if they are within a half-mile radius. Once attuned, the stone will change to the colour of their magical core. Resets upon return.

Artemis hummed as she picked up the Secret Sharer box, and repocketed it. She supposed, on occasion, it paid to explore the lakebed. Perhaps she’d invite Richard again when he came back. Or Nerida now that they’ve started floating practise in an enlarged bathtub.

But for now, she had Healing texts to read, and a mannequin to practise on.

Her fingertips glided across the book spines until she found Duality of Healing Arts, and began to read. She’d been going to the Restricted Section on twice a week with Sebastian, and had been chipping away at its contents slowly. Now, she had the luxury of reading it at her own pace without the constant threat of Madam Scribner, Peeves, or any myriads of ghosts. The contents were not as Dark as she would’ve thought, considering where it had been located, but it did touch on the ‘other’ side of Healing arts – necromancy. Artemis scrunched her nose in distaste.

The dead should remain dead, rest from the life they’d been living.

A particular spell, however, caught her attention. She pulled the mannequin manual and tapped her wand on the rune she needed. Suddenly, the mannequin was heavily lacerated - the chicken blood flowed freely in abundance onto the tiled ground. She pointed her wand, aglow in soft green light, and attempted in a sing-song incantation.

“Vulnera Sanentur.”