I felt alive, like I'd awakened from a long slumber and opened my eyes to a new and beautiful world. It was a beauty that was exclusively focussed and perfected in the form of Oliver Wood.
As a new student to Hogwarts there's a lot that Isobel Reed has to learn. Virtually a stranger to the world of magic she suddenly finds herself embroiled in a world of wonder and awe, treachery and pain, and against all things, love.
A/N Hello all! This is my first fan fiction and I'd really appreciate any comments people have to make. I should also specify that it's set during Harry's second year at Hogwarts / Chamber of Secrets.
And finally that I don't own anything of HP, but the OC is mine.
Chapter 1 – How Did I Get Here?And all the roads we have to walk are windingAnd all the lights that lead us there are blinding
- Oasis
I knew what I had to do. It was simple. Plenty of witches and wizards before me had done just that very thing. So why couldn't I make my feet move?
I stared at the barrier before me, running my gaze up and down the subtle curve that formed the archway. The bricks were old, cracked and faded. I sighed. This, unsurprisingly, was just how I felt at this moment, down-beaten and weatherworn.
I was a little shocked to realise just where I stood frozen, here and now. It was amazing just how sharply my reality had altered in such a short period of time.
Two weeks ago I had been in Sydney, Australia. I had friends there, a home, a life. And I was happy in that life. But like the crashing of the tide the real world had caught up with me and I found myself now proverbially backed into a corner. It was not a position I relished. I had never liked having my hand forced but they had given me no real alternative.
The Daily Prophet, my only real connection to the world of magic, had announced recently that the Ministry for Magic would be cracking down on the number of so called 'untrained' witches and wizards, meaning those who'd never had any formal magical training. I'd scoffed when I'd read this, believing after all, that this was just another empty threat, an illusion of the power the Ministry thought they had.
I had been wrong.
A few days later I'd received an unpleasant letter from none other than the Ministry itself. Though it had been very diplomatically written, the underlying message had been unpleasantly clear. I was being ordered to attend a wizarding school and gain my OWLs at the very least. Should I fail to do so I would be court marshalled and face the possibility of spending the rest of my life in Azkaban. Not much of an alternative when you think about it.
Upon receiving the directive I'd contacted an old family connection for advice on the matter. Rumour had it he was quite influential within the Ministry and so I'd foolishly hoped for a pardon from the unjust ultimatum. But Professor Dumbledore had refused, telling me instead that should I wish there was a place available for me at his school.
Denied and defeated I'd finally acquiesced.
And so now I stood, just a couple of weeks later but in a world drastically different from the one I'd come from, in front of an archway in between Platforms Nine and Ten at Kings Cross Station. All that separated me now from the life I'd had and the one I was being forced into was a magical barrier in the form of an archaic brick wall.
It wasn't so much the fear of attending a new school that kept me frozen where I stood, but more how others of my kind would receive someone like me. From an early age it had become apparent that I was a very talented witch. By the age of nine I had mastered spells that most adults couldn't perform in their dizziest daydreams. Part of the reason why I'd never attended a wizarding school before was because I had so much potential. I was bright, skilled, astute . . . dangerous, perhaps? No one, not even I, knew what I was truly capable of. And it's quite frightening to admit that.
But there was nothing for it now. I had to make a move. Several muggles had already given me suspicious stares and I'm sure I heard one of them say she was going off to get an inspector. Who could blame them though? I'd stood stationary staring at a wall for more than ten minutes. Now was not the time for fear, I simply had no other alternative.
Unsteadily I took a step forward and reached out with one hand, placing it on the rough, cold brickwork in front of me. My touch met no resistance, sinking easily through the barrier in to the hidden world on the other side.
Swallowing heavily and closing my eyes I slowly stepped forward, allowing the rest of my body to pass through.
Though I didn't see it through my clenched eyelids I knew the moment I was on the other side. A feeling had passed over me as I'd stepped through, a gentle caress of sorts. It felt like a piece of satin running over my body for just a second.
My eyes snapped open the instant I was on the other side, widening at the foreign sights that assaulted me. I was standing on a train platform, not unlike the one I'd just left, only the engine before me was nothing like the static, modern forms of transportation the muggles used these days. Instead there stood the strong, proud form of a steam train.
Smoke rose thickly from the head of the scarlet engine. I stared in awe at the side of the first carriage, which was adorned with sharp lettering bearing the name 'The Hogwarts Express'.
At least I now knew with all certainty that I was in the right place. I still did not see why Dumbledore just wouldn't let me apparate to the school grounds. It wasn't like I hadn't done it before. But he'd insisted saying that the taking the train would be a good opportunity for me to meet my new classmates outside of the school environment. And he'd not so gently reminded me that, despite the fact that I could apparate, at fifteen I was underage and shouldn't doing so at all.
I shook my head, dispelling the memory, and turning my gaze to the other sights. Around me a plethora of people moved about - parents saying 'goodbye' to their children, friends greeting each other after the summer vacation. The sounds of their joy assaulted my ears; screams, cries and yells of elation. It appeared everybody knew somebody and this was cause for revelry.
I shivered, but it was not from the cold.
As I watched a particularly overzealous reunion between a group of boys younger than me, I became acutely aware of just how alone I really was. I didn't know a single soul here, let alone anyone on this continent. Swallowing hard I realised that it never ceased to amaze me just how sharply that feeling of isolation can hit, particularly when you're surrounded by people. Like a cold wind on a frosty winter morning, the bitter sting that loneliness strikes through your heart is difficult to shake, even long after you've escaped from it.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, I thought.
I was entering in to the fifth year, OWL year, with a bunch of people who already knew each other very well. I was the outsider in their little group of confidants. How would I be received? Would they even want another addition to their class?
The sound of engine carriage 'tooting' noisily from my left broke my reverie and I realised with a small amount of disgust that I was biting my lip. I should be more composed than this.
"Hi," a soft voice sounded on my right.
Surprised, I whipped my head around to face its source. Before me stood a pretty Caucasian girl, the slight breeze sweeping her long black hair in to her face. She had the darkest eyes I'd ever seen and was smiling at me with a tentative expression.
"I'm Katie," she said, holding out her hand.
I was a little taken aback by her forwardness. But it was clear that her motivations were pure. She'd simply seen a new girl looking lost and alone and had wanted to make her feel more at ease.
Without another hesitation I reached out and shook her proffered hand.
"Isobel," I replied returning her smile gratefully. The dark eyes that watched me, waiting for my reaction, lightened at my friendly return.
"Have you just transferred here Isobel?" Katie asked, encouraged now, as she led me towards the train.
Evidently they didn't get too many new students at Hogwarts, excluding the first years, of course. I hesitated for just a second in my response as I followed her down the train to one of the rear carriages. Katie clearly thought I'd attended another wizardry school before this.
"Erm, no. I was home-schooled," I answered uneasily.
Excellent, I thought, lying to her already. Though, it really wasn't that far from the truth. My parents, now deceased, had never taught me anything about magic. It had been an unspoken blasphemy in my household and they had all but banned it. All of my knowledge of the world of magic had come from sneaking peaks at my mother's old school books from when she attended Beaubaxtons. I suppose in some twisted way you could call this home-schooled.
"Oh," came Katie's reply, her smile faltering slightly. "What year level are you entering in to then?"
"Fifth."
This seemed to brighten her and her face stretched, if possible, in to an even wider grin than before. I found her enthusiasm hard to resist and I smiled back just as widely.
Around us the sounds of curious whispers breathed through the air. I could feel the eyes of a hundred different pupils on the back of my head, could hear the silent questions in their gazes. I found it increasingly difficult to ignore these as I followed Katie's retreating form down the narrow train carriage.
"Brilliant! I'm in fifth also." She opened the door to one of the compartments and stepped easily in. I followed, though with a small amount of reservation. Inside a group of students already sat, facing each other on the long tartan couches that mirrored the front and rear walls of the compartment.
On my left hand side three younger students sat huddled over a schoolbook, bickering lightly amongst themselves. Next to them two older, redhead boys were quietly plotting, head bent over an old piece of parchment. Opposite them, evidently ignoring the twins' gall, sat another dark-haired boy, who was chatting animatedly about something with the girl next to him.
"Hi everyone!" Katie greeted them with just as much enthusiasm as she had addressed me with. The conversation ceased and they all turned to face her, greeting her with a smile before their gazes flicked questioningly to me.
"This is Isobel," she said, pointing behind her. "She's joining us in fifth year."
I watched carefully as the seven faces in the carriage slowly stretched in to tentative smiles.
"This is Angelina," Katie continued, pointing to the dark girl on the right hand side of the compartment. "She's also in fifth year. And Oliver – " indicating the boy on Angelina's far side. "Then there's Fred and George – " pointing to the two identical faces my left hand side. "And Harry, Ron and Hermione."
Having finished her introductions Katie proceeded to sit down next to Angelina. Carefully I lowered myself to sit on her other side. Unsurprisingly the couches were as hard as a park bench.
"So, Isobel," one of the twins called to me, "Know which house you're in yet?"
I nodded. "Gryffindor." This seemed to please them and I watched, perplexed, as the twins turned wicked glances on each other.
"Excellent," the same twin replied, turning back to Katie. "I like this girl already."
In my peripheral vision I saw Katie roll her eyes. "We're all in Gryffindor," she explained. "If you'd been in a different house we might have had to kick you out of the carriage." She said this last part with a wry smile, indicating that it was a joke.
I smiled in return, but failed to miss the undercurrent of the conversation topic. Evidently there was a huge rivalry between the different houses. That wasn't entirely unexpected though, given it was a boarding school. I'd already heard that at Hogwarts your house was like your home, and ultimately where your loyalties lay.
"Wait a minute," the girl who'd been introduced as Hermione said, interrupting my train of thought. She jumped out of her seat, the book that had been in her lap falling to the floor. She had a very excited look on her face.
"What's your surname?" Her dark brown eyes were only a few feet from mine and they were positively burning with anticipation. She looked like a kid in a candy store.
"Erm, Reed," I replied with a frown, not understanding the source of her uncontrolled enthusiasm. To my right I could feel six other sets of eyes on my face. Their unwavering focus made me slightly edgy and I shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. I had never liked being the centre of attention.
"Yah!" Hermione yelped, covering her mouth. "I knew it!" she continued, her enthusiasm now visibly bubbling over. Her dark brown eyes flared alight with whatever discovery she thought she'd made. I shifted again, still not understanding what she was getting at, but it was now making me feel really uneasy.
"You're famous," she said matter-of-factly after a moment, having regained some of her composure. "You invented the Charlitan potion."
My eyes widened. The Charlitan potion, used for relieving allergies, was a small discovery I'd made a few years ago. In all honesty it had been an accident. My sister had been suffering particularly badly with hay fever one year. I'd been messing around with different combinations of ingredients to try and help her and pretty much stumbled on a combination that alleviated the symptoms immediately. But never had I imagine that piece of information would be known here.
Great. I'd only been here a grand total of half an hour and I'd already been set apart from the rest.
"It really wasn't that much of an achievement," I muttered, looking down at the floor.
Hermione scowled, waving my response off impatiently.
"You only received an Order of the Merlin for it." She continued appreciatively, shaking her bushy hair.
My eyes snapped up to hers and I groaned internally.
"Second Class," I emphasised, allowing my irritation to leak through my voice slightly.
Let it go, I silently begged her. She seemed to get the message and her smile faded.
Sniffing defensively she sat back down.
"It's just impressive, that's all." Without another word she picked up the book that had fallen to the floor – Standard Book of Spells Grade Two – and continued reading. Every now and then I could feel her gaze flick back to me. I didn't need to see her to know when she did this however, the admiration positively oozed from her corner of the compartment.
Fortunately the others, recognising my discomfort, left it at that.
"You play Quidditch, Isobel?" the dark-haired boy on Angelina's right asked me. His voice was deep with an unmistakable Scottish accent.
a collective groan resounded throughout the compartment when he spoke. Even Hermione pried herself from her book long enough to roll her eyes.
"Give it a rest, Oliver," Angelina moaned, elbowing him in the ribs. "Term hasn't even begun and you're already starting. There's more to life than Quidditch, you know."
"What, it's just a question," he said, his eyebrows arching slightly. Turning back to me he asked, "Isobel?"
"Yes," I answered. "I play on occasion."
He smiled encouragingly at me and I noticed for the first time that he had the most magnificent dark brown eyes. "What position do you play?"
"Chaser usually," I replied unconsciously.
"Oh, well, I'm Gryffindor's Team Captain. You should come to try-outs."
"Gah! Oliver!" One of the twins protested, throwing him a dirty look. "She's only been here half an hour and you're already trying to recruit her. Leave the girl alone."
Oliver just smirked, shaking his head slightly as he turned his gaze away from mine.
"Scouting already, Wood?" A harsh voice barked from the corridor. The door opened admitting a tall, heavy-set boy. His features were unpleasantly severe as was the glare he turned on us.
"Good idea starting now. You're going to need all the help you can get." He laughed roughly – a deep, guttural bark of a laugh - at his joke. No one else in the carriage seemed to find it amusing.
Oliver's mouth narrowed in to a thin line and his eyes hardened.
"Laugh all you want, Flint, but the cup is ours this year," he challenged.
"We'll see about that." Flint barked out another disbelieving laugh and I winced as the severe sound assaulted my ears. As he turned to leave his pitch black eyes lighted on me.
"Well," he began, pausing in his retreat and licking his lips. "What do we have here?"
I didn't like the way he was looking at me. There was something cold and possessive about the glint in his eye.
"I'm Marcus," he said pleasantly after a few seconds, holding out his hand. His voice was lighter than before, friendlier.
I stared back unwaveringly, my eyes narrowing slightly at the change in his demeanour. Keeping my gaze fixed firmly on his I stretched forth with my senses, allowing me to penetrate his mind. Almost immediately his innermost intentions became clear.
Yes, it was as I thought. The vile creature before of me thought only of me as a conquest. Simply put, he liked what he saw and was determined to have it.
"Isobel," I replied coolly, withdrawing from his mind and swallowing the bile that had risen in my throat. Reluctantly I shook the proffered hand feeling the rough calluses scratch harshly against my skin.
Suddenly his eyes flashed and his grip on my hand tightened. I was pulled sharply from my seat and in to his arms. My hands automatically braced themselves on his chest as I tried to push away, but his hands, which had now moved to my hips, held my pelvis firmly in place against his. Repulsed I leaned backwards slightly, away from the malevolent grin that had now plastered itself on his face. His putrid breath washed over me and I fought back the urge to retch yet again.
"Get off her," a cold voice hissed on my right.
I turned my head slightly, away from Flint, to see that everyone else in the carriage had risen from their seats, their wands pointed at my captor. It was Oliver Wood who had spoken. His dark eyes bore heavily into Flint's, almost daring him.
After a seconds hesitation I felt the iron-like grip around my waist loosen. Flint stepped back with a gauffing laugh.
"If you ever want more civilised company . . ." he trailed off, eying me with another hungry stare before turning and leaving the compartment.
"You ok?" Oliver's voice called to me.
I leaned forward slightly out in to the corridor to watch Flint walk away. I swallowed heavily, still slightly unnerved. Judging by the repulsive way Flint looked me up and down I was certain he wasn't just about to let this go.
"Fine," I murmured, tearing my gaze away from the retreating form and back to my companions. "Thanks."
Oliver's mouth turned up in to a slight smile before he resumed his seat.