Chapter Text
Portia Smith sat on the floor of her bedroom, with her back against her bed, reading Hogwarts, A History by the light of her prized possession — a real working magic wand!
It was well past midnight in the village of Hogsmeade, and a mid-summer storm pounded on the roof of the Hog's Head Inn. On the street-facing side of the inn, an ancient, wooden board with a faded picture of a severed hog's head was squeaking in the wind.
The rain was pattering against the window of Portia's bedroom, which was on the third floor of the Hog's Head. Originally a room for use by visitors on overnight stays, it was now her bedroom because the inn hadn't had such customers for a long time. The Hog's Head was one of the oldest, and definitely one of the shabbiest, pubs in the village. Hogsmeade itself, was very old and used to be the last all-magical village in Britain many decades ago — a fact unbeknownst to Portia, as she and her mother had only moved to Hogsmeade in the prior year.
While slightly shorter than the average girl, Portia looked like a typical girl of eleven years with medium length glossy black hair and dark eyes. But Portia wasn't like most children her age; last year she discovered the portrait over the mantle in the sitting room of the Hog's Head was hiding the entrance to a secret tunnel. The tunnel led to the ruined Hogwarts castle, and it was there that she had learned she was a witch, who could do magic.
She worried about what people would think of her, so she kept her magical abilities a secret. No-one knew she was a witch except her best friend Andrew, a pasty faced, pudgy boy, who could also do magic, and Smokey. Smokey was a grey and white cat with big green eyes, who lived at the Hog's Head. At the end of the previous year, these two close friends had helped Portia expel a dragon that had taken up residence in Hogwarts.
Hungry to learn more about magic, she read the next paragraph.
'Hogwarts, like all wizarding schools, kept it's location secret. Even the exact enchantments and spells that kept Hogwarts secret were a secret and known only to a very few wizards and witches. Rowena Ravenclaw was rumoured to be the creator of the Cartaminime Spell to make Hogwarts Unplottable. But that was just one of many spells, charms, and curses, that have kept Hogwarts hidden over the centuries.'
Hmm, Portia thought to herself. She pulled out her holophone, brushed a wave of hair behind one ear, and said,
"AI, create a new note — Unplottable."
Where could I find out more about the Cartaminime Spell? she wondered.
She looked down at Smokey, who was curled up beside her.
"We need to make Hogwarts Unplottable."
"Unwhattable?" Smokey mumbled sleepily.
"Unplottable."
"Whatever ... "
Smokey didn't seem that interested.
It would come as no surprise to most people that a cat would be uninterested in what humans do. However, it would surprise them greatly to hear Smokey and Portia conversing like it was a perfectly normal and unremarkable thing for a cat and a young girl to do. As far back as Portia could remember, she had been able to talk with cats. She had kept this secret all her young life of nearly twelve years; she never even mentioned it to her parents.
Portia continued reading. She ran her fingers lightly over the textured parchment and inhaled deeply the unique, mild smell of the pages. At first, upon finding the book, Hogwarts, A History, it had felt so strange to turn pages of parchment instead of pressing a button on an e-reader screen or waving to her holophone; as much as she enjoyed reading it, the time was very late. Smokey sat up and yawned while she closed the book and crawled into bed.
"Nox," she whispered, and her wand went out.
Portia tried to sleep. After working and cleaning the inn all day, and feeling quite exhausted by the evening, now that she lay in bed, she found she just couldn't fall asleep.
She opened her eyes and looked over at a patch of moonlight on the wall. A drop of rainwater fell from the ceiling onto her bed. There were no noises from the rest of the inn. She exhaled with a loud, frustrated sigh and turned her body over to face the other way. She switched the position of her legs. She closed her eyes and willed for sleep. But sleep didn't come.
She rolled onto her back, put her hands behind her head, and an image of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry popped into her mind. She thought happily of herself, Andrew, and Hagrid, sitting at that rough table in the Great Hall of the castle, eating sandwiches, drinking pumpkin juice, and looking up at Hagrid's banner, on which he had written 'Hogwarts' in large scrawly letters. She smiled at the memory. Suddenly she had an idea. She picked up her holophone and started to make notes. This was going to be great!
In the light of the holophone, she entered a couple of notes. " ... need teachers ... parchment ... " She paused to think for a few seconds, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops driven against her window, and rested her hands on her chest as she did so. Then she raised her hands and made another note ("cauldrons"), smiling all the while. Wide awake, she never noticed when she fell asleep, her holophone face down on her chest, and she slept deeply until morning.
Smokey was curled up on her bed when she awoke.
"Morning Smokey," Portia said brightly.
"Hmpf," he grunted.
She pushed the sheets back with a flourish, half covering Smokey, and said, "Get up sleepy head."
He didn't move, but she jumped up, dressed, grabbed her holophone, and bounced out of the room.
Portia entered the kitchen on the ground floor just as Uncle Duncan was coming in the back door; he wasn't properly her uncle, as he was really her father's cousin (her father had died a year ago), but it was just simpler to refer to him as Uncle. She didn't say good morning to him; she knew better than to think she'd get anything more than a glare out of him this early in the morning, and sure enough, he just slouched past silently. Every morning, Portia's Uncle Duncan put a teacup of coffee on a saucer and placed it on the ground outside. The first time Portia witnessed this, on the first morning that she had come to live at the inn, she thought it most odd. But she had become so used to this tradition that it would have seemed most odd if it did not occur each day. She could hear Sir Boofhead, (Sir Boofhead was another cat who lived in Hogsmeade), lapping the coffee.
Humming happily to herself, she quickly grabbed a slice of toast and headed for the sitting room via the stairs behind the bar in the public taproom. Nobody ever seemed to go into the sitting room, maybe because it was so dark and dingy.
Portia dropped her toast with a jolt when she entered the sitting room and looked at the portrait that hung over the mantlepiece. Arianna's portrait was empty! The background was still painted there, but Arianna, a sweet looking, blond haired girl, was gone! Quickly, Portia looked behind herself and all around the room. Had someone been in here? Almost scared, she reached out to the portrait frame and opened it. The entrance to the secret tunnel that led to Hogwarts Castle was still there. She swung the portrait wide open and looked at the back of it — nothing different there. She closed it and looked at the front again — still no Arianna. She looked around the room again. She found nothing else out of place, so she picked up her toast and dusted it off.
I'll have to ask Hagrid about it, she thought.
She wanted to tell Hagrid her great idea! And, she had a few questions for Hagrid too. So she swung open the portrait, climbed over the mantle, and entered the tunnel. Portia munched the slice of toast while walking, and full of energy as she exited the tunnel in the castle ruins, jumped down to the long thick grass. What a beautiful blue sky!
The dewy grass soaked her trainers, as she quickly walked past the apple trees. The trees were blooming with hundreds of beautiful little pink flowers. In a few months, she, Hagrid, and Andrew, would be able to enjoy a bountiful harvest of sweet apples.
"Morning Hagrid!" she called, as she approached his cabin on the Hogwarts grounds.
Hagrid was in his garden, planting seedlings; he took a few seconds to hobble around to face her and replied, "Oh 'ello." He smiled at her. His beetle black eyes twinkled from within his face, which was half covered with a mass of thick, grey hair and a large grey beard that nearly completely covered his smile. He stood twice as tall as any normal man, which meant that he was about four times as tall as Portia because she was quite short and only eleven years old.
"Where's Fang?"
"Oh he don' wanna come down from the cave today. 'E were busy chewin' on a bone." He winked at her and added, "Jus' as well really, he's kind of a nuisance when I'm tryin' ter plant stuff. He always wants t' dig things up."
"Oh, what are you planting?"
Pointing right in front of himself, he said, "Well I jus' got done with turnips righ' there. Mid-July's a bit late ter be planting bu' should get sum late in the season."
"An' back along there," he pointed further back, "I got a long row of carrots."
She looked and saw nice rows of green seedlings in the freshly tilled earth.
Hagrid looked down at the knees of her jeans, which were covered in dirt. "Yeh look like yeh've been doin' sum plantin' too."
She smiled with a flash of white teeth. "No," she said. "That's just dirt from the inn." She slapped at her knees, knocking up a cloud of dust.
"Wan' some tea?" Hagrid asked her.
"I'd love some. I've only had a slice of toast and I'm thirsty now."
"Well then. Le's get the kettle on an' I can cook us up somethin' good ter eat too while we're at it."
Hagrid leaned on his shovel and limped into his cabin. He tossed the shovel onto his bed where clods of dirt fell off onto the quilt. He reached for his gigantic copper kettle with a shaky hand, and then reached for his walking staff.
"Gotta ge' sum water from the lake."
"Here, I'll carry the kettle for you," Portia offered, and she took it from him. Even empty, it was almost too heavy for her.
As they headed past his garden, tilting her head back to shake the hair out of her face, Portia asked, "When's your birthday Hagrid?"
"Huh." He looked down at her round little face. "Good question. Yeh know, I don' rightly know. Never celebrated it, an' even when I were young I don' remember ever knowin' it."
They hadn't gone far, and Portia's arm was already hurting, so she switched the kettle to her left hand, leaning over awkwardly because it bumped her leg right at her knees.
"Then we should just pick a day of the year and make it your birthday," she suggested.
She switched to using both hands and carried the kettle in front of herself by hugging it to her chest. Hagrid limped alongside, leaning on his staff, which was the size of a young sapling.
"It don' matter. Don' even know 'ow old I am — I fergot a long time ago."
They had reached the lake.
"Ta," Hagrid said, as he took the kettle from her and stepped into the lake. The water didn't rise above the tops of his large boots.
"You have no idea?"
He sloshed out of the lake with the kettle full of water.
"Well le's see. I prob'ly were in meh fifties when the battle with You-Know-Who took place."
She looked up at him, wiping her hands across the front of her white T-shirt that was now covered in black soot from the copper kettle, as he shuffled even slower back to the hut with both hands full, one hand gripping his staff and the other carrying the water-filled kettle.
"Then I got Fang the Second an' he were with me many years. I kep' teachin' — maybe another fifty or more. The battle with the Muggles ended tha'." He was panting and paused at his cabin door to catch his breath. "An tha' had ter be abou' an 'undred years ago. So how much is tha'?"
Smokey arrived as they were entering the hut, and he followed them inside saying in a strained voice,
"He's over two hundred years old?"
"Smokey says you're over two hundred years old," she repeated for Hagrid.
Hagrid shrugged, as he hung the kettle in the fireplace.
"Like I said, I don' really know."
"Ahhh," Hagrid groaned. He leaned his staff against the wall, sat down at the table, and started rubbing one of his knees.
Smokey sat so close to the fire it was a wonder his nose didn't catch on fire. He curled his tail around his body and closed his eyes. Portia climbed up onto a chair opposite Hagrid at the table, and they listened for a few minutes to the pitter patter of rain drops from a spring shower that had just started.
"Hagrid?" said Portia after a few moments.
"Mhm?" Hagrid mumbled between laboured breaths.
"When I went to come here, through the tunnel, the portrait was empty — Arianna was gone."
Portia looked very concerned, but Hagrid didn't act surprised at all.
"Well yeh can't expect her ter hang aroun' all day can yeh?" he said, breathing more calmly and watching the kettle on the fire.
For the next minute, Portia stared into the fire too.
"Hagrid?"
"Mhm?"
"How do you know what enchantments are still working on Hogwarts?"
"Eh? I don' know." He looked at her with his shaggy eyebrows raised a little.
"You know, like being Unplottable or repelling Muggles?"
"I dunno," he said shaking his shaggy head slowly from side to side. The water in the kettle was boiling, and he took it off the fire. "I can' see how they could be, else the Muggles could no' have found it an' attacked."
"Well I have a great idea," she said.
Hagrid was rummaging through the inside pockets of his coat. "Yeah, whassat?"
"I'm going to make Hogwarts a real, working school again," she replied with a very serious look on her face and determination in her eyes.
Hagrid pulled a bunch of bananas out of his coat, and with a half curious grunt, put them on the table and kept searching, as he said, "Howzat?"
She was ready for this question. "We fix it up. We hide the castle from Muggles again. We get teachers and students ... We have wands ... And Andrew and I can already do some spells like Lumos ... "
"Ah, there they are."
Hagrid brought out a squishy pack of sausages and held it up. He looked at Portia with a kind smile and said, "I'm no' sayin' i's no' a good idea an' all, but yeh can see the place. It's destroyed."
"We can learn. We'll fix it up. Do you know much about repairing walls?"
"A little."
Hagrid picked up a large fork from the floor in front of the fire and speared the sausages. "An' where would we find teachers?"
"Well you used to be a teacher, you could be one."
"I did enjoy bein' a teacher." He gave a grin. "Bu' yeh need a lot more'n me."
"Well there must be some witches and wizards somewhere we could ask," she reasoned. "Where did all the witches and wizards go?"
"I dunno." He was shaking his head again from side to side. "After the Muggles nearly wiped 'em out ... what magical folk survived ... well the Muggles pursued 'em fer years."
Hagrid put the sausages over the fire and continued, "Any survivors went in'o deep hidin' an' tha' were a long, long time ago. Many years."
He looked at her sadly. She was watching Smokey's rib cage expand and collapse slowly as he breathed. His eyes were shut tightly, but she was sure he was listening to everything.
Portia was not put off by Hagrid's words of caution, and her face was lit with enthusiasm, as she said,
"I made lots of notes last night about everything we need," she took her holophone out of her pocket, "in here."
But her holophone wouldn't turn on.
"Oh, darn that's right. It won't work here."
She looked at the blank screen; her shoulders drooped.
"Oh no, all my notes. I should have written them on parchment."
"An' I bet teachers would want payin'," Hagrid suggested.
Portia sat up straight. "Well of course. I know that. I made some notes for that too. We'll need some way to make money."
A spark shot out of the fire and landed in Smokey's fur, sizzling for a moment. Smokey seemed not to notice.
"I know!" said Portia excitedly. "We'll start a Hogwarts fund."
Hagrid took the kettle off the fire and poured two cups of tea. Portia wrapped her cup in her hands and enjoyed feeling the warmth. Then Hagrid removed the sizzling sausages and slipped them off the fork onto a plate. They certainly smelled good, and Portia's stomach gave a little rumble.
"I should probably get a tin for collecting money for the Hogwarts fund," mumbled Portia. "Smokey. Remind me to add that to my notes." If Smokey heard her, he gave no indication.
For the next couple of minutes, the only sound was that of chewing. The sausages tasted really nice; she was hungrier than she thought, and after it had cooled a bit, the tea really hit the spot too.
"I wish there was a spell for making money," she said wistfully. "You don't know of one do you?"
Hagrid shook his head while giving her a little understanding smile.
Hagrid was licking the grease off his fingers, and she was wiping her fingers on her shirt when she asked, "Did Hogwarts have many students?"
"Oh yeah, 'undreds," Hagrid replied.
"Where did they come from?"
"All over the country. Two months before school started, all the new firs' years ... " Hagrid picked up a couple more sausages and popped them into his mouth. " ... ha wu ge' th' le'ers an' com firs' o' Se'mber ... " He swallowed. "They'd ride the Express ter Hogsmeade station. Always a big day for ev'ryone, even the teachers."
"Letters? What letters?"
Hagrid poured more tea. "Their letter tellin' 'em they go' inter Hogwarts an' the stuff they need ter buy like wands, cauldrons, and robes."
"Oh," she said watching Smokeys ears move around to hear their conversation better.
Hagrid's eyes grew distant as if going back in time. "There were one special time when Dumbledore even asked meh ter deliver a letter ... a special one ... ter a special young boy ... "
Portia's brow was creased in thought, "How did they know who to send the letters to?"
"Huh?" Hagrid raised one of his enormous hands to scratch the back of his shaggy head.
"Tha's a really good question. I dunno. I jus' know they got their letters tellin' 'em ter catch the Hogwarts Express on platform nine an' three quarters on Firs' o' September in London ... "
Hagrid trailed off without adding anything further, so Portia asked, "Can you tell me anything more about Hogwarts? I'm going to need to know as much as I can."
"Well," said Hagrid, pausing and leaning back, "I remember one thing about Hogwarts. At the start of every year, the firs' years would be sorted inter houses. An' each house had their own quidditch team so they could play matches against each other fer the Quidditch Cup."
Forgetting that he was supposed to be pretending to sleep, Smokey muttered, "Sorted into houses?"
"What do you mean, houses?" asked Portia.
"The Sorting were important because houses was like yer family while yeh was at Hogwarts. Yeh would all sleep in the same dorms, have classes tergether, an' eat at the same table in the Great Hall. There was four houses — like the school crest."
"My school doesn't have houses," said Portia in a derisive voice.
Hagrid raised his eyebrows. "Why no'?"
"I think these days they say the competition is bad for our social development."
Hagrid grunted noncommitally.
"What were the houses called?"
"Er, it's bin a while since I knew 'em ... Well there was Gryffindor o' course," Hagrid smiled at her. "Everyone wanted ter be in Gryffindor. Gryffindors was the bravest."
"An' there were Slytherin," Hagrid said as he shook his head slowly. "A lot o' bad wizards an' witches was in Slytherin."
"An there was two more houses ... Er ... Huff'n'Puff I think ... an' ... " Hagrid waved his dustbin-lid-sized hand airily. "An' the other one ... "
Portia and Smokey looked at him expectantly.
"I seem ter ferget. Let's see ... Huff'n'Puffle ... Black ... foot?"
Hagrid was looking really confused.
"Huff'n'Puffin an' Blackfoot. But that don' sound right. Oh well," he smiled at them again. "Yeah, four houses."
Hagrid's cabin brightened suddenly. The spring shower had passed and the sun was shining brightly as the clouds moved on.
Portia knew she'd have cleaning to do back at the inn, so she said goodbye to Hagrid, promising to transcribe her notes from her holophone to parchment so she could tell him the details and they could plan the reopening of Hogwarts.
Smokey walked beside her in the tall grass, his long grey tail sticking straight up. He looked up at Hogwarts.
"Do you really think it's repairable?" he asked.
"I sure hope so," she answered.
"Because it's really big," said Smokey, looking at all the gaping holes in the castle.
Together, they headed down the tunnel back to the sitting room in the Hog's Head.
While Uncle Duncan lazed in the pub with his own tankard, Portia spent the muggy evening wiping down the bar, serving customers, and washing glasses, mugs and bottles. She had no chance to think further about her plans for Hogwarts for the rest of the evening.
At closing time, Portia closed and locked the front door, yawned, then picked up two glasses from a table, and carried them back to the bar where Smokey was asleep.
"Oh I'm so glad — ", she yawned again, "this night is over," she said to Smokey. "I'm so tired."
Smokey didn't move.
Portia closed one remaining open window, picked up a lantern, and climbed the stairs to the third floor, leaving the public room in the soft glow of the coals of the fireplace.
Smokey opened his eyes, stood up, and stretched. He arched his back to the ceiling, then relaxed and blinked his eyes at the stairwell where Portia had disappeared. He jumped down from the bar, promptly padded across the room, reopened the window, then turned and headed behind the bar.
In through the window came Sunshine, and Tux; Sunshine was a small ginger cat with a soft tinkly bell around her neck; Tux was a mostly black cat with a white chest and a little black bowtie marking on his chest. He looked like a little man wearing a tuxedo. They had been waiting outside and now headed to their usual table. Sunshine sat on a stool, leaning on the table; Tux sat very straight and proper on the tabletop, licking his chest fur. Tux was always well groomed.
'Well groomed' was not a description that could always be applied to the next visitor, however. Sir Boofhead, a large, grey striped tabby, bounced up and through the window with his fur sticking out in all directions as if he had just arrived from playing in a whirlwind.
"Oh my!" exclaimed Sunshine. "What have you been up to?"
Sir Boofhead jumped up on the stool beside her and leaned closer with his front paws on the tabletop.
"Urrp!" he belched in her face.
"Oh! Get away! That stinks," she complained, screwing up her nose and covering her nose with a paw.
Not to be thwarted, Sir Boofhead belched again, "Uurrpp!"
"Stop it!" Sunshine flapped at him with a paw. "That really stinks. What's wrong with you?"
Sir Boofhead must have been out of air because he sat back on his haunches and said, "Found some fish heads in a rubbish bin."
Tux rolled his eyes.
Sunshine frowned. "That's gross," she said.
Smokey put a tray of drinks on the table and lit a candle. "The usual?" he asked with raised eyebrows, looking at the other three. The drinks were all in little shot glasses — the perfect size for cats.
Sir Boofhead was now licking his fur, trying to get it to lay down smoothly; Sunshine was bringing out her fortune telling cards; they both grunted in the affirmative.
Tux, however, said, "I'm on a diet, just milk for me."
Sir Boofhead stopped licking long enough to look up and say, "I'll drink his usual then."
Sunshine started shuffling the cards, and Smokey jumped up onto a stool to watch.
"What's that in your fur?" asked Sunshine, looking closely at Smokey.
"What?" said Smokey twisting around.
"It looks like a burn mark in your fur."
Tux must have been in a bad mood because he snapped at Smokey, "When's that milk arriving?"
Smokey frowned and turned, but before he could retort, Sir Boofhead said, "And some snacks too. There's a good chap."
Biting his tongue, Smokey slid off the bar stool, muttered, "Yes, your majesties," and padded into the kitchen.
Sunshine casually showed off her card skills. Leaning over the table, she fanned them out, face down, in a wide arc on the tabletop. With a quick flip at one end, a card flipped over, and like dominoes, a rippling wave danced along the arc as each successive card flipped over, and all the faces were revealed. Another flip and they were face down, and her other paw, with claws extended, swept over the arc, gathering them smoothly into a single stack again.
Smokey returned carrying a tray with snacks and a shot of milk.
"Sardines and cheddar cheese on wheat crackers," he announced.
"Here Boof, this one has the biggest sardine — you'll like that."
He placed a cracker, stacked with fish and cheese, in front of Sir Boofhead, and then slid the shot-glass of milk across to Tux.
Sunshine fanned out the cards, face down, in her paw, and held them out to Tux.
"Pick a card."
Tux pulled a random card and turned it over.
The card featured a brightly coloured bird with outstretched wings. It was covered with flames and held a sword and a wand in its talons.
"The phoenix," said Sunshine. "After death, the phoenix rises from its own ashes and returns to life."
She took the card back and pushed it into the deck, as Tux sipped his milk. Suddenly Sir Boofhead made a gagging noise, and a mouthful of fish and cheese shot across the table splashing in the milk. Tux blinked away droplets of milk from his eyes. Smokey burst out laughing, as Sir Boofhead coughed violently.
"What's the matter?" asked Smokey innocently.
"That was an anchovy you put on my cracker!" Sir Boofhead accused him.
"Oh?"
"Yes! Damn near burned my tongue off."
"I did nothing of the sort."
Sir Boofhead swept a paw, knocking half the crackers off the platter and onto the floor. He sneered at Smokey, "Oops. You're going to have to clean that up now."
Smokey stuck his head out further and closer to Sir Boofhead. "Yeah? Look around, this place is a dump. You think anyone's going to notice more rubbish on the floor?"
"Boys!" Sunshine yelled, slapping the table to try and restore some order.
Tux had picked up a snack and was eyeing it closely to verify it contained a genuine sardine before biting into it.
Sir Boofhead was glaring at Smokey. Smokey was trying to look innocent. Their ears were flattening rapidly.
"Boys!" Sunshine reiterated, slapping the table again.
Tux brushed drops of milk from his chest fur.
Smokey took a sip from his drink and muttered, "Wimp," very quietly while watching Sir Boofhead from the corner of his eye. Sir Boofhead squeezed his eyes half shut in a suspicious glare.
Seeking to distract them, Sunshine quickly fanned the cards and forced them under Sir Boofhead's nose.
"Here. Pick a card."
Reluctantly, he pulled a card and slowly turned it over to reveal —
"The phoenix," said Sunshine. "That's odd."
She took back the card and shuffled it into the deck.
After fishing out a chunk of cheese and half a fish head, Tux drank most of his milk saying thickly, "Better down this before Boofy spills the rest."
Sir Boofhead screwed up his nose and gave him a look of derision. "Ha, ha," he snorted.
"Here," said Sunshine. She offered the cards to Smokey, and he selected a card. He turned it over and showed it to everyone.
"The phoenix?" Sunshine said in surprise.
"Is this some kind of trick?" asked Tux. "How are you doing that?"
"I'm not doing anything," Sunshine insisted looking wide eyed.
"Let's see those cards, they're all phoenixes aren't they?" said Sir Boofhead, and he grabbed the stack of cards, flipping them over. All four cats put their paws on the table and leaned over, inspecting the faces of all the cards as he spread them out. They were all different. There was only one card that featured the phoenix.
"Well, somehow you're making us pick the card you want," insisted Smokey.
"I'll shuffle them," Tux said firmly. He grabbed all the cards. He shuffled them, though not as expertly as Sunshine, and slapped the deck on the table.
"Cut 'em."
Smokey reached out and picked up about half the cards on top and placed that half on the table, then picked up the rest of the cards and placed them on top of the other stack. He leaned back.
By some unspoken mutual understanding, Tux, Smokey, and Sunshine looked at Sir Boofhead; Tux nodded slowly.
Sir Boofhead picked up the top card carefully and looked at it. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows; he looked at Smokey, then Tux, then finally at Sunshine whose eyes were now as big as saucers.
"Well!" snapped Tux impatiently.
Sir Boofhead turned the card around.
Sunshine let out a gasp as though she'd been holding her breath forever. "The phoenix!"
"Wha ... Oh my ... " stuttered Tux.
"What does this mean?" yowled Smokey over all the noise.
Sunshine started talking rapidly. "The phoenix represents life and death, immortality, rebirth, renewal, and resurrection. It portends the end of worlds in a fiery end followed by a new birth. Unkillable, it rises from the ashes to stalk the land. It takes revenge on its enemies. The sword and wand it holds are symbolic — "
"Some bollocks," muttered Sir Boofhead quite loudly.
"Symbolic! You idiot!" Sunshine yowled, standing up and leaning on the table with a raised paw as though about to box Sir Boofhead around the ears. "Symbolic of its power to vanquish all before it. It is the deadliest of all enemies to cats." She glared particularly hard at Sir Boofhead, who cowered down on his stool.
She calmed down with a deep breath.
"It is said that when the phoenix appears seven times, great evil is upon us," she said in a mystical far away voice. She looked at their scared faces. "I'm afraid we're all in grave danger. The phoenix has already appeared four times tonight. No more shall I read the cards tonight."
A heavy cone of silence fell over the table.
Tux's brows were drawn together in a thoughtful frown, and after a long time, he broke the thick silence.
"What is the great evil, I wonder?" he whispered. Sunshine, Smokey, and Sir Boofhead looked at Tux. Then Smokey, Sir Boofhead, and Tux turned their gaze upon Sunshine. She looked back at them all, frightened. They all looked down at the stack of cards in front of her.
Very slowly, Sunshine reached out a paw and turned over the next card to show three ugly creatures, one of which was wearing a crown, one held a sword, and one held a bloody axe.
"Goblins!"