❝You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?❞
❝You should know the answer to that by now, Harry.❞
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Life has always been a bit disorganized for Novana Lupin. With her father's monthly transformations, the girl often found herself in the comp...
❝I'm Brianna Keane, by the way. In case those two gits haven't mentioned me.❞ ❝Novana Lupin, but you can call me Nova. Don't worry; I know who you are. Those two gits told me about you.❞
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OCTOBER ARRIVED AS A DAMP CHILL spread over the grounds and into the castle.
Madam Pomfrey was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards.
"You should go to Madam Pomfrey, Nova," Hermione mentioned one morning as the quartet sat in the Great Hall enjoying breakfast.
The redhead in question gave her a confused look, "How come, Mione?"
"I'm afraid you may have a cold. You've been looking quite pale lately," The bushy-haired girl elaborated, gaining the attention of Harry and Ron.
"I thought so too, but I assumed I was just seeing things," Harry spoke up after swallowing a spoonful of his oatmeal.
Nova shook her head, opening her mouth in protest when Ron said, "I agree with Hermione. You should go see Madam Pomfrey, Nova."
With her outnumbered, she had no choice but to go to Madam Pomfrey after breakfast and take some of her Pepperup Potion. Her three friends stood aside as they watched her take the potion. The steam pouring from under her hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.
Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days. The lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds.
Oliver's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened.
Which explains Harry and Nova being found late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower, drenched to their skin, and splashed with mud.
Aside from the rain and wind, it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles.
As the two squelched along the deserted corridor, they came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as they were. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, ". . . don't fulfill their requirements. . . half an inch, if that. . ."
"Hullo, Sir Nicholas," Nova greeted politely.
"Hello, hello," said the ghost, starting and looking round. Nick wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Harry and Nova could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.
