(2) Something About Hermione

Professor McGonagall, at her office desk, said, "Come in," and set aside her report on the new edition of 'Transfiguration For Fifth-Years.'

The door opened and Giselle came in, hugging her Befriendly Bookbag. "You wanted to see me after sixth period, Aunt Minerva?"

"Yes. Do be seated. Professor Sprout, your head of house, tells me that you were sleepwalking again, the other night."

Giselle blanched. "Was I? Again?"

"Close the door, Gee. You mustn't blame yourself. Here, have a biscuit. The kitchen elves will be late getting dinner ready. A problem with the stoves. And there does appear to be a problem with the Snor-Alot potion you were given last week. You HAVE been taking it? A capful every night?"

Giselle sat in the guest chair, the frosted cracker to her mouth. "Yes, Auntie, for sure I have!"

"Don't get crumbs on the floor, dear. Well, I'll go see Madame Pomfrey tomorrow. Perhaps a stronger dose. We don't want you sleepwalking out to the Forbidden Forest again."

Giselle shivered at the memory. How fortunate that Fang had been outside the hut that night and saw her. Hagrid just did snatch her away from the small but punch-happy Whomping Willow specimen that grew at the fringe of the forest.

She was about to say how really terrible the potion tasted, and that maybe this was the reason for its lack of effect, when her Auntie put a finger to her lips.

"Shhh."

Giselle froze, her bright sapphire eyes big with wonder. Auntie was tiptoeing over to the door.

Giselle turned in her chair to watch, crumbs cascading to the floor. Aunt Minerva suddenly swung the door open.

"Miss Granger," she said calmly, with just a hint of disapproval. "May I help you with something?"

Giselle saw the momentary look of fright on Hermione's face, then heard the stammer of words that finally formed into coherency. "Um, Professor McGonagall. Um, yes. You see, we-- I mean, Harry and Ron and I, were wondering if Gryffindor will be going up to the Astronomy tower this coming Monday night, to observe the rising of the Green Star."

"Of course you will. That was explained yesterday morning, if you recall."

Giselle saw Hermione's feigned look of surprise. "I must've been, um, in the restroom or something. Thank you, ma'am. I'll tell Harry and Ron straightaway!"

Aunt Minerva nodded, her lips in a pinched frown. She watched Hermione hurry down the fifth floor corridor toward the Fat Lady's portrait. Then closing the door slowly she looked over at Giselle.

"What am I going to do with you, Gee? Look at those crumbs."

Giselle dropped her bookbag in her haste to draw her wand. "I'll clean it right up."

"Are you still corresponding with Charlie Weasely?"

Giselle looked crestfallen, then squared her shoulders and said in a haughty manner, "Not lately, no. And I really don't care a whit."

McGonagall smiled knowingly. "Never mind. Wasn't it Miss Granger who brought the present over to you at breakfast?"

"Why, yes," Giselle replied, her wand vacuuming up the crumbs. "She said it got bumped to the Gryffindor table. It was very nice of her to bring it to me."

"Certainly. And was there a birthday card in the package?"

"I plum forgot to look! I was so excited about the bookbag. Oh heavens, was the card thrown away?"

Aunt Minerva went to the office fireplace and took a small rosewood box from the mantle.

"Perhaps. I didn't notice a card among the pieces of wrapping, which, I might add, I saw you toss to the floor."

Giselle blushed. "Sorry, Auntie. But I was... so... excited."

"Professor Snape did a quick check of the bag, you'll recall," said Aunt Minerva, opening the box. "He told me afterwards that he had a vague impression of a woman with blond hair. The gift-giver, he is certain."

"Marsha has blond hair," said Giselle, fondly picking up the bookbag.

"Dyed blond hair," her Auntie corrected her. "Miss Granger's peculiar behavior is most unusual for her. Let's just be sure." And she tossed a pinch of magical dust into the small flickering flames.

Giselle felt a suffocating feeling in her chest. Was there something dreadfully wrong about the bookbag? Was it going to be taken away from her? And if Marsha hadn't sent it, who had?

She stared at the golden flames. There was a fleeting view of Marsha's garden, at her cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, then a glimpse of a young blondish woman kneeling down. There, Marsha's face, looking out from the flames.

"Is that you, Aunt Minnie?"

It was only Marsha who called her Minnie.

"Yes, hullo, Marsha. I've a question to ask of you. Did you send Giselle a birthday present?"

Marsha put a hand to her pale cheek. "Oh my God, did I forget?"

Giselle's heart sank. She noticed the deepening frown on Auntie's face.

"No, it's tomorrow. So you haven't sent her a present? No packages to her the past few days?"

"No, but I'll be sending one tomorrow! I'm going to Diagon Alley, to the Sneak-A-Peak Boutique. They have such lovely accessories."

Aunt Minerva sighed. "Thank you, Marsha. I'll let you go about your gardening. Sorry to have interrupted you."

"No biggie! See you at the family picnic in June!"

A pop, and the flames shrank down to a dull blue wriggle among the logs.

Giselle hung her head. "Do I have to give up the bag?"

Aunt Minerva tapped herself on the chin. "Your strong attachment to it might indicate a spell. True, Severus didn't sense any dark magic, but..."

She sighed again, and this time she smiled. "You may keep it for the time being, Gee. But if you suspect anything the wee bit amiss, you are to let me know. Understood?"

Giselle hugged her Auntie. And it seemed to her that for just a moment the bookbag hugged her too.