Bagsy Beetlehorn and the Vampire Affairs (The Bagsy Chronicles 4)

A New Subject

The welcome feast was a whirlwind of floating candles, earthy smells, colourful decorations and the rhythmic timbre of chattering children, scraping spoons and rustling robes.

As if by a strong tide, Mezrielda was swept from Bagsy and to the Slytherin table. Bagsy weakly reached her hand after her friend, wishing once more she could sit with her during the meal. Instead, she sadly waved as Mezrielda turned from her and sat down on the other side of the hall. Disappointed, Bagsy found a seat at the Hufflepuff table.

'Sorry about before,' Greenda said to Bagsy as she appeared at her side, sitting down next to her. 'I was in the middle of talking with some friends.'

Arching an eyebrow, Bagsy regarded Greenda. She'd only ever seen her alone, or being tormented by Emmeline, or speaking with Ford during Quidditch practise.

Greenda crossed her arms defensively. 'People like to talk with me occasionally,' she defended herself. 'At least, whenever I have something interesting to say, they do. Finding interesting things to tell them is the hard part.'

Not too keen on the way Greenda was speaking, like she was always on the lookout for gossip, Bagsy shrugged and turned her attention to the food appearing on the four tables of the Great Hall.

'Well?' Greenda asked expectantly after the quiet stretched on. 'What is it? What did you need on the train?'

'Oh,' Bagsy murmured. 'It's nothing.'

'You can tell me, really,' Greenda said, placing a hand on Bagsy's shoulder comfortingly. 'I'm all ears.'

'My friend was injured,' Bagsy explained. 'It wasn't something serious, so I didn't want to get a teacher,' she lied. She hadn't wanted a teacher to avoid explaining how Mezrielda got her injury and, besides, she hadn't seen any on the train, not even Professor Blythurst. 'I thought you might know what to do and be able to help.'

Greenda sharply removed her hand from Bagsy's shoulder, as if scalded. 'Someone was hurt?'

'She has a bad leg. She's fine now, though, she was just in a bit of pain.'

'Why didn't you say so!?' Greenda burst out, her face colouring.

Bagsy startled at the sudden emotion in her voice. 'You told me not to bother you.' She shrunk down. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, no, no. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself.' Tutting and shaking her head, Greenda folded her arms. 'I want to be a healer and yet I didn't listen when someone needed my help. I failed you and your friend.' She fixed Bagsy with a fierce gaze that was as intimidating as her previous outburst. 'I'm really sorry.'

'Thanks,' Bagsy said, feeling a lot better about it. 'Hey, I see your head girl?'

In a split second Greenda's face changed from serious to overjoyed. Bagsy had missed how emotive her friend was – it made talking to her so engaging and easy to understand.

'Oh, yes!' Greenda gasped out. 'I was so surprised when I received the letter! But here we are, and here I am! Not only was I a prefect in my fourth year, something I'm sure you'll remember is incredibly rare, but now I'm head girl as well! It truly is wonderful.' Without prompting, Greenda was rushing into all her plans for being head girl – new extra-curricular activities she wanted to encourage, a new anti-bullying frame work and new materials for arts and crafts like making banners for quidditch matches. Bagsy listened intently, laughing when Greenda made a joke, and nodding enthusiastically at her other ideas which all sounded rather good.

She was so enthralled by Greenda's talking that, before she knew it, the sorting and the following feast was over. The students were satisfied by the mountains of food they had consumed, and Professor Fitzsimmons was stepping up to the podium to give their speech. For the first time that meal, Greenda paused her speaking as she and Bagsy turned to listen.