January 17th, 1890 — Helga's Bedroom, Bartonburg

"I know yesterday was a bit overwhelming," she said, referring to the countless spells that had been cast from such a close distance at the dueling tournament from the day before. "But we must discuss our findings." More important than the dueling had been the gentleman—not the ones dueling, but the ones they'd conversed with while waiting for the competition to begin!

Pushing off from the side of her bed, Helga began rustling in the small drawer that remained fairly camouflaged by the finish of her wooden bedside table. She pulled out a small book and cast a smile back at Henrietta.

"And I must record our findings," she added, a mischievous smile on her lips.

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Henrietta Cartwright

  

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— set by MJ! <3 —

Yesterday had certainly been overwhelming, and Henrietta had looked forward to a day of rest, today being Sunday. Not that she or the Scringeours were religious, but there was typically so little to do on Sundays that they'd spend half the day in Helga's bedroom anyway, only venturing out to the parlor, the garden, or perhaps, if they were feeling really adventurous and could convince someone to accompany them, to a walk through Padmore Park. Today, Henri had gotten out a fresh canvas for her watercolor, and was shifting her eyes between Helga's window and the blank white surface, trying to decide what to paint when Helga made her announcement.

Henri's brow furrowed and she set her pencil down on the windowsill. "Our findings?" she echoed, feeling a surge of anxiety at this unexpected turn of the conversation. "About the spells? Goodness, Helga. I dare say we weren't close enough to really hear any of them. At least, I didn't. And I certainly hope I'm never in a position to need any magic like that," she said, with a half shudder. The idea of combat magic being turned against her made her stomach crawl (and nevermind that Defense had consistently been her best class; Henrietta was determined never to mention it to anyone, in hopes that they might forget, since it was such a terribly unladylike pursuit).

  

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Helga rolled her eyes and quietly began flipping through the pages as Henrietta lamented about spells and not knowing how to do them.

"Stop fretting, Henrietta," she signed as she finally reached the next empty pages. "I am talking about our findings on the men. I must jot down what we remember for the next time we meet them again." Spells, ha! As if Helga cared about all that.

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Henrietta watched Helga curiously as she flitted through the pages of the notebook, not comprehending all at once. When Helga seemed to have settled into it, she rose and moved to look over her friend's shoulder. "You keep notes on the gentlemen you meet?" she asked, confused. Was this a normal part of being a debutante? Helga certainly had to know all of the best things to do, since she was so graceful and elegant and charming and witty. On the other hand, this had never been mentioned in finishing school. There had been an indication that it was best, when conversing with a gentlemen, to build on any previous conversations, but Henrietta had always assumed she would be expected to remember it all.

  

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With a mischievous smile on her face, Helga grabbed for her self-inking quill from the bedside table and began spelling out the name: Mrs. Helga... "A - A - L - D - E - N - B - E - R - G," she murmured as she wrote, trying not to misspell the horrendous German-sounding name. Helga had nothing against foreigners, but their names took far too much effort to spell! Then, in explanation, she showed the page to Henrietta.

"I must keep notes because I've met a lot of gentlemen," she explained, fondly caressing the spine of her journal. "I begin my writing my name as if I were his wife; it may seem silly, but it helps me decide if I would even consider the man an option at all." In her mind, Helga tried to picture how the name 'Henrietta Aaldenberg' might look written on the page. He'd been a charming man and happy enough to talk to her.

"Once that is done, I record any and all relevant information—birth order, profession, demeanor. Anything noteworthy. See?" she asked as she scribbled down a basic description of the man.

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"Oh," Henri said, watching Helga scribble. She did see, but seeing and comprehending may have been two different tasks where this was concerned. "You write down all of that, for every gentleman you meet?" she asked, eyeing the pages of the notebook prior to where Helga had started writing, presumably the ones already filled out. It certainly was a lot of gentleman; how had she managed to meet so many? But then, Helga had been out for several years already, and Henri was still months away from her debut, so perhaps she would understand in time.

"How do you know all that? We only met him yesterday. What if you meet a gentleman and you don't know their — what was it? The birth order and the profession and the demeanor?" It was an awfully lot to consider, Henrietta thought, in choosing a man; she had never anticipated that it would be quite so complicated.

  

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"Not for every gentleman I meet. Sometimes I even write down information about gentleman I have yet to meet assuming there's something of note to remember," she explained. She finished her passage and handed the book to Henrietta, hoping she might flip through it and get a better look.

"While you were busy watching the competition, I spoke to a number of other ladies, some who knew of and about Mr. Aaldenberg. It's not terribly difficult to discover the basics of their person as long as you know how to ask," she explained.

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All the gentlemen she met, and all the ones she had yet to meet; goodness! Henrietta took the notebook and flipped through the pages almost reverently, afraid to damage any of what Helga must have worked so hard to achieve. This must have been dozens of social engagements, all of the knowledge of all of the gentlemen all put into one careful pile.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin trying to ask," she admitted, cheeks flushing slightly. She read over one entry, then flipped to another and skimmed it as well. Then, she was struck by a frightful notion. "Is my brother in here?" she asked, horrified at the idea yet quite anxious to see what Helga might have written about him all the same.

  

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Helga shrugged as she watched Henrietta flip through the page. Her book was one was one of the things she was most proud of, even if it had only been seen by her eyes before handing it over to Henrietta. However, the moment Henrietta brought up her brother, Helga reached over and closed the book onto Henrietta's hand.

"I don't think he's there yet," she said, though she honestly couldn't remember if he was or not. It had been a long time since she'd seen any of the brothers Cartwright, and Holden was far too young to be an appropriate suitor. "But what I can tell you are which suitors you might find happiness with. You need only tell me what kind of man you hope to marry!" (Even if she already had a working idea of what kind of man Henrietta ought to marry.)

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Henri was both relieved at his lack of inclusion, but also vaguely and distantly offended. If Helga made notes on every man she met, why wouldn't Henri's brother have made the list? Perhaps Helga didn't think him a viable candidate because of the friendship the two of them had — that could be it. Or perhaps it had something to do with blood purity, though Henri had never imagined her friend might be like that.

Her thoughts were diverted entirely from this mystery by Helga's next question. What an alarming and unexpected turn of the conversation! Henri was much more comfortable talking about, or thinking of, Helga's future marital happiness than her own. Why would they be talking about her? She wasn't even out yet; she hadn't met anyone or done anything of note whatsoever!

"The kind of man I hope to marry?" she repeated, eyes wide. "But — but how should I know that? I haven't met any men!"

  

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Pleased to have moved away from a conversation from Henrietta's (still young!) brother, Helga narrowed in on what could be the focal point of the next few months until the season arrived: Henrietta's future prospects. Now, she would never admit it, but their prospects varied vastly; Henrietta was more likely to marry a wealthy man but unlikely to marry into the Prewetts or the Abercrombies like Helga hoped. No, Helga had a better chance to marry into one of the old-money pureblooded families on blood alone, although she was still more likely to marry someone like Eugene. She hoped not.

"Well of course!" she said brightly. "You need not be out to have an idea of what man would attract you. Appearances, occupation, family size and reputation. There are plenty of factors that will influence your future happiness and you need to think about it before you debut!"

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   Elladora Black

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"Do I?" Henrietta asked, mouth agape. It was so many things to consider, and none of it had been covered in finishing school. Appearances, occupation, family size, and reputation. Henri had never formed an opinion on any of them, as far as she knew, though she was sure her mother likely had some opinions. Her mother had opinions on everything. Part of her thought she ought not to get attached to any fantasies now, lest she be disappointed when her mother or brother stepped in to direct matters in a way that she might be displeased with. A smooth stone, causing no turmoil amidst the forceful river of her mother's will. But Henri was going to be a debutante soon, and she ought to exist as a person at least a little apart from her mother, so perhaps Helga was right and she should think about such matters.

Appearances, occupation, family size, reputation. Did Helga mean the size of his family or the size of the family he wanted to create after he'd married? She could not imagine that his siblings would have anything at all to do with her married life — but perhaps that was only because of her own experiences, with the Cartwrights being whittled away until it was just the three of them left at home. Helga's experiences must have been different, with Mr. Scamander and his young son still living at home with everyone else. But heavens, having to find a way to like the gentleman in question seemed like enough of a task without having to attach oneself to his entire family, too!

"I —" she began, opening her mouth but still absolutely unsure of what to say. "I —"

Her cheeks felt warm. She was making a fool of herself. Helga was going to be terribly disappointed in her and regret having invited her at all. Henri closed her mouth, tried to find something to say, and opened it again — and then disappeared entirely.

  

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The brightness faded from her face and was slowly replaced with a frown. Henrietta truly did not know what she wanted—but that was fine. Truly. Actually, it was probably for the best. Helga could help her decide what she wanted and what she needed. Henrietta could be her pet project!

"Now don't worry," she said much like a mother would to her daughter, even offering a maternal pat to the knee. "I didn't know all of those things when I first debuted, but—" she began, but then the strangest thing happened, perhaps the strangest thing she'd seen in a long time: Henrietta disappeared. No wand. No apparition. Nothing.

Helga blinked and looked around as if she might find Henrietta standing behind the bed, but once again: nothing.

"Henrietta?" she asked quietly, peeking around in the hopes that she might just appear. Nothing.

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   Henrietta Cartwright

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In the same instant that she disappeared from Helga's bedroom, Henri reappeared about three feet above the garden fountain. She crashed through the thin ice on the surface and let out a noise that was half a gasp and half a shriek at the sensation of cold water soaking through her skirts. After an undignified scramble to try and pry herself out of the ice and over the rim of the fountain, she was able to make her way, shivering, to the back door of the home. Luckily for her, no one was in the hallway or the stair as she made her way back to Helga's room.

She opened the door, eyes still wide from the surprise of having been thrust so unexpectedly out into the cold. She had left a trail of small water droplets all the way up to Helga's door, and was still dripping. "C-Can you help me change?" she asked, a breathlessly.

  

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Helga was not blind to her friend's troubles. There had been rumors of her unpredictability while at school, but Helga, like a good friend, had always turned a blind eye. This time, however, there was no way she could turn a blind eye.

"Oh my dear," she sighed, her brows furrowing as she sprung to her feet. She pulled her winter blanket off her bed and dragged it along the floor until she was able to wrap it around a shivering Henrietta. Helga had been victim to unfortunate slips on ice before, and that was terrible enough; she would positively die if soaked in ice water! "I must find you something warm," she fretted, leaving her friend standing there in a blanket to pull whatever she could find from her armoire.

Finally she managed to find a clean nightdress, as well as the last season's winter coat she had. (She would have given Henrietta her new one, but it was lined with fur and who knew if it would dry properly, even with magic?)

"Tell me what's happened," she requested as she began to help Henrietta out of her soaked dress.

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— set by MJ! <3 —

Henrietta accepted the blanket, and stood shivering while Helga fretted about the room looking for something warm to wear. She wished she wouldn't go to so much trouble, but couldn't bring herself to interrupt, and then Helga had produced a coat from somewhere and it seemed silly to ask her to put it away when she'd already found it. When Helga asked her what happened, however, Henri could only blink at her. Wasn't it rather obvious?

"I fell into the fountain," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Oh, except Helga was probably asking how she'd gotten there in the first place. Henri bit her lip, unsure what to say. "I don't know what happened," she eventually decided on, as she let the blanket fall to the floor and took Helga's coat around her shoulders. "It must have been a bit of magic. I'm sure these sorts of things must happen all the time in Hogsmeade, don't they?"

  

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