HP: A Magical Journey

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"Are you still mad? Are you going to complain to him? Will you try to. . .you know. . . ?"

Sitting in her chair, Daphne Greengrass sighed. She glanced to her side, and sitting in another chair, swinging her feet, was Astoria Greengrass staring at her with curious eyes.

"I'm not going to do anything of any sort. We're here for your treatment — there isn't any place to bring that up, and I'm sure Quinn would appreciate us talking about those things in his office; he's very particular about it."

"But, you want to, right? If you had the option, you'd ask him."

Daphne didn't grace that question with an answer. What was she supposed to say? That Quinn should ditch the French hussy and take her to the ball — that wasn't going to happen. Knowing Quinn, he wasn't going to back out of his commitment and. . . .

'I don't have that option anymore,' she thought.

Astoria continued to gaze at her sister. The still-secret news of Quinn going to the Yule Ball came as a surprise to her. Astoria, much like her sister, thought that Quinn would ask Daphne out to the ball — she was the best option after all.

'Can't say I didn't enjoy seeing her fret for hours to Tracey.'

As much as Astoria loved her sister, the one thing she didn't like was Daphne's habit of keeping emotions away from her face.

'She is so pretty; it's an absolute pity for it to be set in stone.'

Daphne had been good at occlumency from the very start, getting praise from everyone — Daphne's occlumency teacher had wildly applauded her when she was able to keep emotions off her face so well. Maybe it was because of the constant praises that Daphne kept few feelings on her face to this day.

So Astoria felt joyous whenever someone could rile Daphne enough for her to break her occlumency. That was the reason why she would always bother Daphne in one way or another — anything from making her sigh to smile.

'Then came Quinn,' reminisced Astoria, 'suddenly she became more expressive. Now she talks more, smiles more. . . she even laughs.'

It had started with Daphne only changing around Quinn, but little by little. . . Astoria smiled brightly. 'She is returning to the Daphne of before.'

"Why're you smiling so much?"

"No reason," said Astoria grinning even more.

"Oh, smiling, are we? Let me on the joke."

The sisters turned their heads to see Quinn exit through the red door in the glass wall.

"So, Astoria, ready for this month's dose of oh-so-spooky dark magic?"

The younger Greengrass bowed her head. "Y-Yes, Dark Lord W-West."

"Good, good, I can feel the fear. . . I like it," said Quinn in a low, deep, and spooky voice. The smiling expression on his face, though, didn't match his tone.

The two looked at each other and broke out laughing. No matter how many times Quinn treated Astoria, it was a little tension-raising for the girl to have blood magic run through her body — maybe it would get better with more time, but that time wasn't now.

So to ease her worries, Quinn would always make the ambiance as carefree as possible for Astoria to feel safe.

"Before we get started, let's go over the usual, shall we?" asked Quinn pulling his trusty barstool beside Astoria.

"Certainly."

"Okay, how are you feeling right now?"

"Fit as a unicorn."

"Excellent, unicorns don't get sick. How about any anomalies during the month?"

"Nothing I can remember of. . . . Ah wait, I have one!"

Daphne looked alarmed at Astoria's sudden revelation.

"Oh, please tell," asked Quinn.

"Throughout the month, I felt a little too. . . happy!"

Quinn chuckled in response, but Daphne wasn't amused.

"Astoria! This is serious! You can't joke—"

"Oh, it's fine. The healer isn't angry; you shouldn't be as well."

Daphne looked towards Quinn, who shrugged with a smile — he honestly didn't have a problem with it.

"Okay, Astoria, jokes aside, any problems throughout the month?" asked Quinn.

"No, I don't recall having any problems."

"That's great."

After taking Astoria's account of her own health, Quinn started to check on Astoria's health. One of the principles of diagnostics that Poppy had taught him was that patients aren't an accurate source of patient condition as several of them lied or weren't cognizant of their own state. It was a healer's role to find and search for a more complete diagnostic of their patient.

"Alright, everything indeed looks good. I can't sense anything odd except, well, you know — the blood curse."

"That's good, I guess."

"Yeah, now let's not waste any more time and get you good for another month."

The same routine of blood magic was repeated in which Quinn used his own magic to repress the blood malediction in Astoria's body. The results were, as usual, the amount of blood magic that he could use would keep the curse down for a month.

"Okay, it's done. You'll be good for another month. How do you feel?"

Astoria exhaled deeply as Quinn's hands left her; she looked at her hands and clenched them; just like after every treatment, she felt a boost of energy as if she could go on forever.

"Yeah, I can feel it," she said, "it's done; it's like every time."

"Excellent. Now, how're you doing, Astoria? What's going in your life," asked Quinn as he got up with the barstool in hand behind his desk.

Astoria tapped her chin with her finger in wonderment. The gears in the brain of the extrovert Greengrass turned as a naughty glitter flashed in her eyes.

"I'm a little sad, I guess."

"Sad, why?" asked Quinn, furrowing his brows, "any problem I can solve. Tell me, I'll have it clear in a jiffy."

"No, it's nothing like that," her puppy-dog eye were fatal, "I'm just sad that no one invited me to the Yule Ball. . . now I'll have to go back home at Christmas."

Daphne twitched, and her eyes widened as she realized what her dear sister was trying to do. 'She's trying to bring the topic up!'

Quinn, who was expecting an everyday problem, also froze for a split second. His eyes subconsciously moved towards Daphne, and to both of their surprise, both of their eyes met. Both immediately averted their eyes away.

"O-Oh, that's unfortunate."

Astoria was delighted that just a single sentence from her was splendidly doing its job.

"Yes, it is. . . Wait! — Quinn, you should take me. Please!"

Quinn kept his eyes on Astoria, trying his best not to look at the other sister whose gaze he could feel on him. And he as did that, he noticed the subtle odd expression on Astoria's face — an expression he was well familiar with.

'Wait a minute,' the realization dawned on him, 'she knows! Astoria knows. . . that would mean. . .'

He finally ended up looking to the side and saw Daphne staring at him.

'Ah. . .'

Daphne knew about it — she at least knew that he had a date. He hoped that of all people, she would be the last one to know. But now that he thought that the cat was out of the bag, he decided to come clean and finally start disclosing from his end.

"Sorry, Astoria, but I already have a date for the Ball."

"Eh, you do?" Astoria looked between Quinn and Daphne, subtly implying a question if they were going together.

"Yes, I have a date," said Quinn, ignoring the subtlety that was hitting him soundly in the face.

"Who is it?!"

". . . Fleur Delacour."

"The French champion? You're taking the Veela to the Ball — hmm, I surely thought you'd be taking Daphne. Don't you think so too, Daphne?"

"Don't talk nonsense, Astoria," said Daphne, half-glaring at her sister.

Astoria just stuck her tongue out in cute defiance.

Daphne couldn't do anything but sigh. However, now that the matter was blown up and out in the open, she turned to stare at Quinn. No words were exchanged, but both knew what the gaze meant.

"She asked, I accepted," said Quinn.

"Delacour asked? Like Ivy Potter asked?" inquired Daphne.

"Ah, you know about that, huh. Tell me one thing when did you hear this from Ivy?"

"The day she got rejected," answered Daphne. At the same time, she notices how Quinn addressed Ivy, 'she sneaked in without me knowing.'

"That was quick." Quinn wasn't bothered by it. Any information he was willing to give out was information he was okay being spread.

"What about you, Daphne? Will you be attending the ball or going back home with Astoria?"

"I'll be attending."

"Oh? Who's the lucky guy?" asked Quinn, leaning forward.

Daphne opened her mouth to answer the question but then paused. She gazed at Quinn and changed her answer.

"It's a secret."

Quinn's eyes widened a fraction at the answer. "A secret?" He looked at Astoria, who seemed as clueless as him

"No need to look at her. She doesn't know. No one knows."

"Okay, then tell me this. Is it someone I know?"

Daphne sat on the question for a moment before nodding, "Yes, you do know of him."

"Do I know him?" questioned Astoria.

"No, you don't."

"Now that's interesting," said Quinn holding his chin, "someone I know, but Astoria doesn't. It must be someone older than Astoria."

"That's too many people."

"I won't lie by saying that I'm not curious, but I'll wait," said Quinn, leaning back. "Also, Daphne?"

"Yes?"

"May I have a dance at the Ball?"

Astoria turned to her sister, staring at Quinn, and thought, 'What's she waiting for?'

"Yes, you may."

Quinn nodded and returned a smile to Daphne's tiny smile that graced her lips.

"I also want to dance!" exclaimed Astoria interjecting.

"Grow up first," was the sister's prompt response.

. . .

The Greengrass sisters left the AID office after chatting a bit with Quinn, who had to end their chat as he had previous commitments, and Daphne too had to meet with the teams who had a game the coming day.

"You should've asked him," commented Astoria.

"It isn't proper for a girl to ask a boy. It's the other way around."

"Fleur Delacour, Ivy, and a dozen other girls did it. One of them got through."

"If Quinn wanted to go with me, he would've asked."

"I can't deny that. But I'm just saying. . . the Veela clearly wanted something, and she took it."

"Astoria—"

"I bet if you had asked, he would have said yes."

". . ."

Daphne had no answer to that. She knew what Astoria meant by — 'the Veela clearly wanted something, and she took it.' Their father had always said,

"If you want something, then the world won't hand it over to you — no, the world will try its level best to keep you away from it — so if you ever have a genuine desire for anything at all, it is your vocation to go and get it. . . because if you don't, someone else will."

As the Greengrass heir, she never truly had to work hard to obtain something; as such, she never connected with her father's words.

This was the first time she could understand what he meant. Unfortunately, the understanding came a bit too late.

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"U-Uhm, is this really fine?" asked Eddie in a nervous tone not usual on the confident, outspoken, and loud boy.

Quinn looked at himself in the mirror, turning to look at his sides and back. "Yes, it's fine. The question is if you're comfortable."

"I-I guess. This isn't something I'm used to," said Eddie.

"Raise your hands wide, lad."

Eddie immediately raised his hands as he felt measuring tapes wrap around him as a pot-bellied middle-aged man with a cigar in his mouth walked around him.

"Hmm, you two have good frames on you two lads: broad shoulders, thin waists, long legs, shorter torso. . . a bit difficult to stitch, but nothing I can't manage."

Quinn checked himself in the mirror while adjusting the fitting jacket full of stitches and threads.

"I'm looking forward to having the complete suit, Mr. Taylor. This will be my first bespoke three-piece suit. As much as I adore my two-piece suit collection — three-piece suits are a class apart. Plus, I get to show off one of my pocket watch chain going throw the vest."

"You're grandfather loves his three-piece suits, little West. He has them stitched four times a year — I know an addict when I see one."

Quinn laughed, relating to Mr. Taylor's description of his grandfather. Mr. Taylor was the tailor George, Quinn, and Elliot used for their suits (Lia had her own personal tailor).

The thing about Mr. Taylor was that he had no filter whatsoever — anything that popped in his mind came out of his mouth. This quality of his, along with the fact that stitched killer suits, was the reason that George West hadn't used another tailor in thirty years; he loved the fact that Mr. Taylor didn't act reserve in front of him like so many others did.

"Then get ready to get another addict as your client, Mr. Taylor, because I'll be coming to you for all my suit, shirt, and pant needs — also, do you do belts?"

"I'm okay with that, more money to me. I sell belts, ties, suspenders, anything you formal you want, you'll get it," said Taylor as his eyes studied his charms working on Eddie's fitting jacket, "how does it feel, lad? Any tightness while moving."

Eddie twisted his upper body to get a good feel of the jacket.

"It isn't as flexible as my quidditch uniform, but it's comfortable, no doubt."

"Don't worry, when I'm done with it, you would be able to wrestle in it."

With the Yule Ball coming around, every boy and girl attending the Ball was getting their formal party wear prepared. Quinn and his friends were no different; they all were attending the Ball and needed formal wear for the occasion.

Being very particular about her dress, Luna had pulled Marcus along with her to coordinate their clothes so they would match. Poor Marcus had been stressed as his standard black-and-white dress robes weren't going to match Luna's eccentric ideas, so he asked Quinn to change the color of his clothes to match Luna's preferences.

Quinn offered to have new dress robes stitched for Marcus to match Luna, but Marcus wanted to wear what he got from home, so Quinn agreed to cast the most potent color change charm he could cast.

Eddie accepted Quinn's offer, so both boys had new formal wear stitched for them.

Quinn didn't want to wear dress robes; he found them tedious. He decided to go with a classy three-piece suit — it didn't matter if it was the magical or non-magical world, suits were in style everywhere.

Eddie went along with whatever Quinn was wearing, so it was decided that both would wear three-piece suits — bowtie for Eddie and necktie for Quinn.

"Are you sure she will like this?" asked Eddie sounding a bit worried.

"Eddie, while clothes are powerful weapons but to wield their true power — to look your best, you need to feel your best; you've to believe that you look good."

"But I don't if I will look good in this."

"Bah! Everyone looks good with my babies on. Take a bath and cut your hair and you'll be no less than a dashing prince," shouted Mr. Taylor while writing down adjustments and measurements.

"I still don't get it, you know? How in the world did you get Tracey to agree to go with you to the Ball?" asked Quinn.

He was shocked when he was looking for Tracey for the progress of ticket mailing and pulled out Recon to locate her. To his surprise, he saw her with Eddie in a classroom.

His curiosity peaked. At first, he thought they were planning a prank against him and decided to spy on them to be ready for their action. But to his surprise, they were practicing dancing in the classroom.

"It all started when Tracey wanted to know why you didn't ask Daphne to the ball — thanks for telling me, by the way; it felt real good knowing about your date from someone else."

"No hard feelings, man. It was a mutual decision."

"Yet you had no problem telling Ivy Potter."

"What did you expected me to do? I had just rejected a girl I know personally; I had to give her something."

"Yeah, whatever. So we got talking, and Marcus' advice popped in my head. . . so I asked her."

"And she accepted."

"She did," grinned Eddie.

'It's like he's floating on clouds,' smiled Quinn in thought.

"So, you like her?"

"Yeah, she's nice and smart. . . and pretty," said Eddie.

'Oh ho, look at him all shy.'

Eddie Carmichael was a guy who didn't get bashful easily. He charged out towards every situation with a face thick as an elephant's skin. Seeing him grinning like a buffoon and getting lost in thought was a unique look on him.

"You're smitten."

"Am not!"

"You so are. But you better not hurt Tracey — she's a dear friend."

"And I'm your best friend."

"Yes, and that's why Tracey will know exactly who to come, so she could spite you. Given that she doesn't do it herself."

"What if I'm the one who gets hurt?"

"Then, I'll stand behind you and spite her. It goes both ways — gender equality holds strong."

"Good, that's good. I'll take that."

Mr. Taylor puffed out a smoke ring and blurted, "If you ladies are done with your chat. It's time for me to take your pant measurements."

"Of course, Mr. Taylor," said Quinn, removing his fitting jacket.

Eddie leaned towards Quinn and whispered,

"He's not going to poke down there, is he?"

Quinn turned to Eddie and laughed out loud.

". . .T-That doesn't give me the answer — Quinn? Quinn?!"

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Quinn West - MC - Suits are dope!

Daphne Greengrass - Feelings are complex - The entire situation is very complicated.

Astoria Greengrass - Little Cherub - Smart people can be dumb.

Eddie Carmichael - Smitten - I! Have! A! Date!

Mr. Taylor - Tailor - I do hats as well — if anyone's wondering.

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