@mosternestmacmillan

Even in the chilly, bleak January weather, Greenhouse Three was warm and humid thanks to the many panes of charmed glass and heating spells. Padma knew that those carefully maintained magicks were kept there for the health of the plants rather than the comfort of the students, but she couldn’t help sighing with relief as the warmth as she settled back on her tall wooden stool and let the heat seep into her veins. The walk down from the school always left her feeling frigid, no matter how many layers she added to her heavy cloak and long black robes. Her mother liked to tease that it was genetic, that Patils simply weren’t adapted for the Scottish weather the way the Macmillans were -- and ordinarily Padma rolled her eyes at her mum and pulled on a thicker pair of woolly socks, but today she caught herself eyeing the distant cousin who shared her mother’s maiden name.

Ernie was bent dutifully over his assigned tray of plants. If he was still shaking off the cold from outside, he gave no sign of it, but then Hufflepuffs were known for being dedicated workers -- especially in Herbology. Padma glanced around, spotting Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot -- the other Ravenclaws in the D.A. -- crowded around a tray of their own. She wondered if any of them had managed to pass the word along to the Hufflepuffs in class yet; she wondered if any of them had thought to try. Maybe they’d already heard by now, Ernie and Hannah -- but maybe they hadn’t. If they didn’t know, someone had to tell them...and apparently, that someone would have to be Padma.

Stifling a sigh, she picked up her pruning shears and moved to join the tray of plants where Ernie was working. Padma waited until she was sure that Professor Sprout’s attention -- and that of the students on either side of them -- was elsewhere before she leaned over to Ernie and whispered, “Lightning has struck.”

She felt like an idiot, using a stupid code phrase like that -- but that’s what the D.A. had agreed on, back in an early meeting toward the beginning of last term, when they had discussed the likelihood of Harry Potter returning to Hogwarts. Padma had agreed at the time that it seemed more prudent than going around saying the name of Undesirable Number One aloud (easy way to attract unwelcome attention, that!) but now that she actually had to say the phrase they had agreed upon all those months ago, she couldn’t help dwelling on how dumb it sounded. Still, what was she supposed to do? Say nothing, and hope that Ernie had heard the news from someone else?

Whatever appetite Lavender had was always fleeting. Her stomach growled a little too loudly once and she could point at which scar she received from Alecto digging into her arm trying to get her to shut up. She had been shutting up though, but that didn’t exactly made the start of her last term any easier. Besides, that scar was still fresh anyway and the skin was discolored – though nothing concealer could fix.

Her usual routine into the Great Hall for lunch included finding a spot where she would be least likely spotted. Lavender dropped her bag onto the bench and pulled a plate in front of her, sighing; the potatoes didn’t look so good anymore. She moved it aside; maybe she’d eat it later if she wasn’t so restless.

She shuffled the tarot deck onto the table, but she felt her eyes losing focus – even though she should be the most focused at that moment, especially with the energy she had to bring to the cards. Lavender could probably blame that on the figure nearby though, their silhouette contrasting against the grey sky of the enchanted ceiling.  

Lavender didn’t try to sound too annoyed with him, but it felt like everyone was constantly demanding her attention recently. At least he wasn’t a Carrow, nor was he one that would rat on her for having her cards out – or so she hoped. “… did you want something?”

moss:how easily does your muse adapt to any new situations they’re thrust into?

It would be easy to stereotype Ravenclaws as the most readily adaptable of all the houses, but it wouldn’t be true; some Ravenclaws are quick to dive into any new situation, eager to observe and learn and study and experience – but others are as set in their ways as any stodgy old Hufflepuff or prickly Slytherin or self-righteous Gryffindor. A Ravenclaw usually only digs themself into such a firm rut over months and years of studied repetition and logical sequence.

Padma isn’t quite that bad – but she doesn’t cope with unfamiliarity quickly or painlessly, either. Her chief problem is that her childhood left her too used to assessing the world from behind her twin sister’s shielding shoulder, and when she doesn’t have that buffer she still hesitates as though hoping that someone else will come along and act first so that she can observe, and then choose how to respond. When she doesn’t have someone reckless to follow, she wavers.

Sometimes she outright runs.

But the stakes are higher now. This isn’t fun and games; this isn’t homework; this isn’t even a risk of being mocked or laughed at. This is life and death. The D.A. is counting on her -- or at least, Padma would like to be someone whom her fellow D.A. members are willing to rely, whether or not they feel that way yet. And that means she has to step up and act on her own.