RABBIT AND FOX

It was entirely too late to be studying, but they were, regardless, because Professor Snape was an absolute brute and gave them extra Potions homework for giggling so much. Lavender hadn’t been doing much but doodling on her parchment for the past hour or so anyway, so Parvati’s sudden exclamation was welcome, in theory anyway. “Oh, did I tell you? Professor Trelawney says that we may try bird entrails later on in the year.”

“Really?” Lavender blanched. She’d heard that this was a fairly accurate method of divination, but she was kind of hoping they’d avoid it anyway. Parvati, though, seemed fairly enthused about the whole thing.

“Yeah, and she says that its very difficult, and we’re the only ones who’ll probably get it, anyway, so if we want to borrow her classroom we can try it out on Saturday. Do you want to?”

Well, no. Lavender didn’t particularly want to look at anything’s entrails, let alone those of an itty-bitty cute bird, but what Parvati wanted, Lavender wanted. She somehow managed to choke out, “Sure. All right, then.”

“Great!” Parvati hugged her, tight, and Lavender was overcome with the scent of ink and perfume. “We’ll go after breakfast on Saturday morning, all right?”

“All right.” Lavender forced herself to grin.

On Saturday, as agreed on, they met in Professor Trelawney’s classroom, despite Lavender’s attempts to delay the inevitable by chewing every bite 25 times and taking third helpings of eggs and toast. All that really did was make Pansy Parkinson state snippily that those Mudbloods ate like Blast-Ended Skrewts, and were just about as pretty.

When they got to the classroom, Professor Trelawney was curiously absent. Parvati noticed Lavender looking around for her and said, “Professor Trelawney is up at Hogsmeade, meetings some friends. She says if we were going to steal anything, her Eye would already have seen it.” Parvati widened her eyes meaningfully, then dropped the tone to say, “Besides, I’m sure there’re charms on absolutely everything, and I don’t particularly need any more teacups anyway, thank you.”

Lavender laughed, then covered her mouth guiltily, realizing that if Professor Trelawney’s Eye could see them stealing, it could certainly see Lavender laughing.

“So.” Parvati hauled something onto the table with a slight sigh, and it took Lavender a moment to realize what that chirping sound was.

It was coming from a small blue bird inside of a silver cage.

Lavender’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. No, no, no. No way am I going to kill that sweet little thing.”

Parvati rolled her eyes, placing a silver dagger on the table, next to the cage. “We have to, Lavender. Bird entrails are unreadable unless they’re still warm. You’re supposed to spill them out into a bowl. Its all very simple; wizards have been doing it for thousands of years. In fact, it’s one of the first, and the purest, forms of Divination. Pre-historic wizards used Muggle entrails, of course, but…” Parvati catches the horrified look on Lavender’s face. “What?”

Lavender could feel her eyes filling and her lower lip trembling, but she didn’t care. “We’re just going to kill it, though? We’re going to split it open, and see its blood, and…”

“Well, yes. As is generally inferred by ‘entrails’.”

“But can’t we just use…” Lavender looked around, then leaned in to whisper, “Can’t we just use ‘Avada Kedavra’ or something?” Parvati’s eyes went wide, and Lavender rushed to explain herself. “I just mean…I know the result is the same, but isn’t it better to kill it painlessly like that, instead of…well, instead of sticking a knife in it?”

“That’s an Unforgivable Curse, Lavender. Unforgivable,” Parvati hissed. “And that’s not just because it kills. If You-Know-Who uses it, you can bet that it’s not painless. Its just less bloody.”

Lavender had never seen Parvati angry before, and seeing Parvati’s eyes blazing and the knife clutched in her hand, she suddenly understood why so many half-and-half wizards were so afraid of the pure-bloods. There’s something undiluted about them, something purely and scarily magical. Lavender couldn’t help but think of her rabbit, Binky, dismembered by a fox in third year.

And then Parvati’s eyes softened, as if she knew what Lavender was thinking, and she put the knife down by the cage again, and took Lavender by the hand. “I’m sorry, Lavender. It’s just that I really want to do this. Its such an old form and magic, so—”

“Pure?” Lavender asked. It’d never come up before, really. Not with Parvati.

Parvati squeezed her hand. “Sorry. You know I don’t mean it like that.” She dropped Lavender’s hand again and picked up the dagger. “I’m going to do it, all right? You can cover your eyes if you want to, or go, and I’ll just do it myself. I know you only agreed to do this because of me, anyway. I’m the one who really wants to do it.”

Lavender wiped at her eyes, then steeled herself. “All right.” She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said it again. “All right. Lets do it.”

Parvati hugged her, hard, and Lavender hugged her back. Parvati’s hair was soft against her palms. “Thank you.” She let Lavender stand a little bit out of the way, and took the bird out of the cage. It chirped sweetly in her hand, perfectly tame, and Parvati’s voice shook a little. “All right. Cover your eyes now, Lavender.”

Lavender did, fingers flying to her face, but it didn’t help much. Her eyes were open, and she could see the set look on Parvati’s face, and the glint of silver in her hand as she raised the knife. When the bird chirped again, Lavender squeezed her eyes shut and waited for its little birdy scream.

It didn’t come. Instead, Parvati’s voice, cheerful again, said, “I think we should name him Chirpy.”

Lavender’s hands fell, and she opened her eyes. Parvati was standing in front of her, Chirpy sitting calmly on her finger, and Lavender couldn’t help herself. She threw herself on Parvati and squeezed her hard that Parvati squeaked. Chirpy ruffled his feathers and flew off to land on his cage, undisturbed by their silliness.

Parvati squeezed back, and when she looked at Lavender, her eyes were more bunny than fox. “A few years ago, I would have done it,” she said, and Lavender knew that meant something. What it meant, exactly, she didn’t know, but it meant something.

“I know,” she said, and squeezed Parvati even tighter, as though she could fuse their bodies and their blood together. Chirpy chirped happily away, and Parvati giggled against Lavender’s neck, and Lavender thought that maybe it didn’t matter if they could fuse their blood, because they were already a family.

END