Idle Talk and the Seven of Sevens

The instant Oleandra jumped off the ladder and saw Tracey's face, she knew that her girlfriend had heard everything that had transpired in the Divination classroom.

Oleandra hadn't meant to knock out Lavender's teeth, but it was an undeniable fact that she had lost her temper and her control over her strength. After implanting Icthiara's heart and obtaining a Dusk Elf's bloodline, half of Oleandra's magic— her casting power— had been permanently translated into physical might. Not every Dusk Elf possessed magic, just as not every human was a Wizard or a Witch, but those that did were endowed with inhuman strength, grace and speed. Since Oleandra had twice as much magical power as the average Witch her age, having stolen Umbridge's Magic Circuits, this had not impacted her ability to cast spells in the slightest, but it had impacted her daily life— for a while.

Oleandra had lost count of the number of doorknobs she'd flattened and the number of cups and glasses she'd shattered with her grip strength, but after a few months, she'd got used to her newfound strength— or so she'd thought. Having her faithfulness questioned, knowing that Tracey might be listening in from below, had incensed Oleandra much more than she'd expected, leading her to lose control over her strength.

It wasn't that Lavender's words had struck true and made her feel guilty about leading Tracey on, causing her to overreact— that was false. The truth was that Oleandra hadn't been able to stand the idea that some part of Tracey might come to believe, deep down, that she wasn't completely serious about her commitment to her…

"Did you win?" asked Tracey, the corners of her lips rising ever so slightly. "It certainly sounded like you did."

Tracey's words stunned Oleandra. She didn't care even one whit about what Lavender Brown had said— she only cared about whether Oleandra had got hurt in the scuffle…

"You should see the other girl," Oleandra mumbled, the pointed tips of her ears flushing red with shame. "Ugh, I'm in so much trouble…"

Hogwarts had strict rules about violence— casting joke spells and minor Jinxes on fellow students was fine to a certain extent, but Lavender would doubtlessly have to visit the Hospital Wing to have her teeth regrown. Even though Oleandra was a prefect, that did not mean she could go around punching whoever she pleased like some Muggle thug. In fact, being a prefect meant that the rules went double for her, since she was supposed to act as a role model for others!

The consequences for her actions would doubtlessly find her sooner rather than later, but for now, Oleandra was still a free girl, so she and Tracey headed to the Great Hall in advance to get started on their Study of Ancient Runes homework, which was to translate Annexe A of Advanced Rune Translation and transcribe the Modern English words into Old English, in runes, onto a clay tablet.

"I nearly forgot," said Tracey, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she engraved a thin line into her clay tablet. "Would you mind asking Professor Hagrid to keep an eye out for Moss, when you see him in Care of Magical Creatures? Professor Snape scared it off."

"Moss?" Oleandra echoed questioningly.

"The Canary Car's baby, he ran off into the Forbidden Forest," Tracey reexplained. "Moss saved my life, but he belongs to Astoria— I wanted to give him back to her and thank her for saving my life, even if she hadn't meant to."

The circumstances behind Tracey's miraculous escape from the Death Eaters were unlikely at best and downright bizarre at worst. What were the odds that Astoria would accidentally drop the baby car into one of Tracey's pockets, and that the car would remain there without being noticed until the day it was needed?

"I don't mind," replied Oleandra, just as the bell rang. "…oh, is it lunchtime already?"

A few minutes later, people began streaming into the Great Hall, and Oleandra spotted her twin sister's signature body-length green hair approaching the Slytherin table, as the crowd of students in her path parted to let her pass unhindered— accidentally or wilfully touching Daphne's poison-barbed hair was a mistake one would make only once!

"How was Arithmancy?" offered Tracey, as Daphne sat down in front of her. "I have no idea how you do it, I was never really good with numbers…"

"Professor Vector regaled us with a tale about how she got her surname," said Daphne slightly sarcastically. "Septima, meaning seventh— Professor Vector's father was the seventh son in an unbroken line of male offspring, so naturally, he tried to produce seven male heirs in a row with his missus, just like his own father…"

Seven was a powerful and meaningful number.

Seventh sons of seventh sons without any female siblings in between, never mind their bloodline or ancestry, would always be born uncommonly powerful Wizards, with no exception— Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders, had been a seventh son of a seventh son himself.

It was extremely rare for such Wizards to be born these days, due to the advancement of women's rights— after giving birth a few times, most did not tend to be especially eager to repeat the experience!

"Let me guess," said Oleandra amusedly. "It was going well until the seventh?"

"Her father was going to name her Septimus," said Daphne, cracking a rare smile.

From a certain point of view, it was a shame that such an era-defining, fate-defying child was never born. However, when Mr. Vector had first held his baby daughter in his arms, all thoughts of his dreams of greatness had faded away. After all, there were far greater and more important things than magic in this world...

"It's too bad the parents failed," said Mafalda sardonically, gazing at the Gryffindor table. "If Professor Vector had been born a boy, perhaps we wouldn't have to count on such a half-baked Chosen One to save us from Voldemort…"

Nearly every single student within earshot cringed at the mention of the V-word.

"Who asked for your opinion?" said Oleandra in annoyance.