Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Part One / Chapter Nineteen
Venus wasn't raised in a spiritual, much less religious household. The only thing she owned that was close to religion was a rosary Ted had given her on her 13th birthday. He said he'd traveled to a cathedral and had it blessed by a priest for her and Tonks. As long as she wore it, she would be safe. Venus hasn't taken it off since.
The thought of Venus being half-Angel had come off as a shock.
"Angel of Death?" Ron seemed more amused than shocked at Hermione and Venus' late night revelation. "Are angels even real?"
"It's only a theory," said Hermione flipping to the pages in the book they examined in the library. "I hope you're still up because you have homework."
"No, me and Constance were waiting for Harry," Ron replied. "He should be out of detention right now."
"Constance? Willingly throwing away precious hours of beauty sleep?" asked Venus smiling gleefully down at her best friend. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"
"You people kind of grew on me I guess," she grumbled. "Randall and Harmony aren't so bad."
"It's Hermione," the girl beside her seethed.
"Calm down. I'm only joking," Constance argued. "Do you have a problem with me?"
"No," Hermione said coolly, avoiding an argument with her, and continuing to look through chapters about Islam.
"Girl fight," Ron chuckled watching the two girls. "Hermione seems to have an issue with Constance here—"
He was interrupted by Venus smacking him in the head with a rolled up newsletter. Snowflake curling up and purring delightfully in her lap. Ron sighed angrily glaring back down at his Potions homework. The portrait hole opened and Harry stumbled inside the common room. A bloodied bandage wrapped around his hand. Umbridge was moving to the top of Venus' Murder list at sonic speed. She rummaged into her bag and pulled out the vial of yellow liquid.
She minced in Harry's direction, "Here," she said applying a decent amount of the solvent on Harry's scarred hand. "It's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles made it during Herbology, looks like you need it more than I do."
"Thanks," he said gratefully. "It's brilliant."
"I stil reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice hoping his best friend would take his advice.
"No," said Harry flatly.
"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"
"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry. "And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"
