"Well," Mary Elizabeth began, “I always wondered if the Willow had a mind of its own, and it acts like a wild animal — literally. It can sense your emotions. If you approach it suddenly, without notice, or try to run at it or something, it will probably get scared and hostile. You have to get low, and walk slowly, find one spot and stare at it constantly. I like to think of it like a hippogriff sometimes. I bow my head, and when I hear the leaves rustle, I get near."
Silhouettes started forming around the hanging photographs. She could already see the heart that the Willow so willingly shaped with its branches. It was amazing what someone could do once learning how to communicate with that tree.
Mary Elizabeth listened to Charity’s story about her life before Hogwarts. “I’m sorry about your dad leaving. Must have been harsh. I mean, I have an older brother and an older sister, and my sister took the news well, she even tried to train me. She was always into fantasy and science fiction and always asked me to describe Hogwarts on my first year.
"My brother was less supportive. He would call me a freak, and a broom-riding, cauldron stirring, children-eating witch. My family is Catholic, but they didn’t really want to burn their daughter. My brother was scared, though. He would stay away from me as much as possible. Until this summer. My parents took us all on a vacation to help us bond. My brother didn’t try to drown me, surprisingly. He started accepting me more." Mary Elizabeth didn’t tell Charity about the dementors’ attack on the lodge they stayed in. That was the main reason why her brother actually started appreciating magic.
It was a peacock. Her patronous was a peacock. She didn’t even know how she conjured it. She never even learned the charm. Expecto Patronum.
"When I was Five," Mary Elizabeth said, “My grandfather gave me my very first camera. It was brown, and kinda heavy, and I accidentally dropped it into the sea once. So my grandfather got me a new one, and I swore to never let it go. Photography kinda stuck to me."
She went to the shelves, where on one, she had her camera sitting, along with a row of lenses, and a box of closed film canisters.
She tossed one canister to Charity. “There. it would be much easier to develop the photographs if you used enchanted film. It does half the work already. It takes several pictures and layers them on one square, kinda like in a movie."
She smiled and saw that the first few pictures finished developing. She blew on one of them and it cleared up completely. This one was a Thestral, though reading about them made her realize that not everybody would appreciate the picture, so she folded it and put it in her bag.
Charity watched, transfixed by the slow emergence of the image of the willow tree from dark shapes and blurs.
“You’re very talented,” she murmured, the compliment coming without premeditation and pitched low and unobtrusively against Mary Elizabeth’s words. “My dad was religious,” Charity commented sympathetically. “A strict Christian, Protestant or something though. He’s the one who decided to call me Charity, after the virtue, you know? My mum wanted to call me Ambrosia, I think. I’ve never managed to get a straight answer out of her whether or not that would be after the nectar of the gods or the custard brand, but either way my dad didn’t really go for it.”
“Did you keep hold of the one you broke?” Charity asked, interested. “I always keep stuff like that for the sentimental value, but I’m a bit of a hoarder. Like I said, this one,” she tapped the camera in her hands before passing it over to Mary Elizabeth easily, “This one was my dad’s, but I’ve got a magical one that belonged to one of my mum’s friends as well.”
Here, Charity gestured at the box she’d brought in. “I brought it in case a muggle camera wouldn’t work.”
Charity gave a delighted smile Mary Elizabeth handed her the roll of film. “Thank you! I wouldn’t have any idea where to buy them from, all though I suppose you could order it through the Prophet or something? Here, how much did it cost?”
Plunging her hand into the inner pocket of her robe, Charity rooted around for some sickles or galleons, and raised an eyebrow slightly as Mary Elizabeth hastily folded one of her photographs away.
“What was that? Can I see? I don’t mind if you think it’s a bad shot or anything, I’d still be interested, if you don’t mind?”
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