IN MY HANDS
Author's Note: My first chapter! Also just to clarify, Lily and James becoming headboy and headgirl happens in the seventh year this time not the sixth because I wanted them to be slightly older so that's slightly different, and Remus is not a prefect in the sixth year either. Also Sirius is still living in Grimmauld Place for now and I have introduced some new characters and changed their personalities a little. Alice and Frank are the same age as the marauders not the suspected two years older. Will be a slow-burn. AND I MEAN SLOW-BURN.
Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle.
Chapter One: The Lion's Jaw
14th May, 1968.
OUR FIRST MUGGLE-BORN MINISTER MAY BE OUR GREATEST.
The Daily Prophet's front page on Sunday, the 14th of May, 1968 was the beginning of a chain of events that led to the murder of the first muggle-born Minister of Magic.
Ironic, isn't it?
For at 12:34am on the night of that comdemned article, a man arrived outside the door of a ragedy London apartment. He was dressed in all black; a thick cloak and hood, a sharp suit underneath. With skin pale white, it looked as if he'd never seen the sunlight. And the two dark eyes above a hooked nose and pair of thin lips created a nightmare. Think of it like this: when you were a child and you thought you saw that creature in the corner of your room, it's hatred and anger was enough to make you feel a fear unbestowed to anything you've felt before.
Because that was him, that man. His resentment and wickedness took good things, it swallowed them up and ripped them apart.
The hallway this man was in, was lined with a dozen more rooms, where their tenants were sound asleep. He did not care for the muggles in their beds, his stare was fixated on the brown door in front of him. It was chipped and the varnish was peeling away, it's owner clearly could not afford any sort of luxury.
And it was a pity.
The owner was a writer. He was still awake as well, but scribbling vigorously in the candlelight so he could finish his next article. When the doorbell rang, he snapped out of a daze and had to blink himself awake enough to stand.
The boy was in tartan pyjamas, his hair dischevelled and stinking of burning candle. As he opened the door, he remembered that he must write to his mother again in the morning; telling her the article was an outstanding success and that he was perfectly safe away from home despite her ridiculous worrying. She would be so proud to finally hear back from him, he was always forgetting, you see.
What he didn't expect was Tom Riddle. He stood a meter away, his head tilted, analysing him for a second.
Kyle Narbury didn't have time to breathe or run for his wand in this time. Did time even exist during this moment anymore?
The only thought that ran through his mind was that he hadn't been enough. Then the flash of green burnt it from him and he was thrown backwards into his desk, splattering ink everywhere and knocking over a candle that set fire to his last thought; that he must sign off with 'all my love' so that his mother would know he was doing just fine.
September 1st, 1976.
The Hogwarts Express.
"The hanging man," Isabelle Williams said triumphantly as she held her tarot card up.
Marlene McKinnon swiped it from her and glared at it like she'd suspected her friend had been cheating all along. She stared at it hard, curling her fingers around it slightly. With a defeated sigh, she threw her pile of cards at Isabelle and began her deck all over again. It was the fourth time she'd lost, despite it being her idea to play. To Marlene, Tarot snap was the greatest game invented but it wasn't popular for the reason that it was devilishly insensitive to Divination.
"I don't understand how you keep winning," Marlene groaned, looking crest-fallen at the new card she'd picked up. "These belong to me. Where's my loyalty?"
"Probably dancing with death," Lily sighed and pointed to the cards the two girls had already gotten through, sure enough the last one to be put down was death. "You know what Professor Oakton would say about this. He's very superstitious."
Isabelle scoffed, their Divination teacher was as old as Hogwarts itself. He could barely walk anymore due an infected kneazle bite that he swore gave him a fifth all-seeing eye, so most lessons were just waiting for him to reach your table to see how your ovomancy was going.
It had only been the three of them in the train carriage. Amelia Johnson, their fourth group member, was nowhere to be found, despite Isabelle begging the train driver to wait a couple more minutes. The girls assumed she'd slept in and still had each other for the seven hour journey. Isabelle watched, amused, as Lily took a tarot card.
"One of Wands?" She asked aloud. "Is it like a prophecy?"
Isabelle nodded. "Academically, yes. For thousands of years, Seers have used the cards to tell someone their future but muggles pretend they know how they work to get non-magic money — I saw it once with Mum and Dad."
"Blah. Blah, blah," McKinnon groaned. Muggles had always bored her. "I'll explain how you play the good version of tarot cards."
And so, Isabelle fell back into her seat, thankful for a break. She'd been playing for four hours already. Watching Marlene dramatically fold out the Divination snap game was better than playing it because the Gryffindor was dramatically animated in how she explained things. Twice, she nearly flung all the cards over the floor trying to shuffle them to show their friend. Lily twirled one the weaker cards between her fingers, listening intently.
"Right, so here the Sun is stronger than the Moon..." Marlene demonstrated, plucking it from her suddenly. Lily frowned, a confused grimace on her face which usually would've made Isabelle laugh but her mouth was clamped shut when Marlene focused on her again. She wiggled a thick dark-blonde eyebrow at her, indicating that they were to play again.
"Your turn," Marlene giggled. "I've got a good one."
Isabelle picked up a card from the pile and flicked it round with a bored face. Lily burst out laughing at Marlene, understanding the King of Pentacles was the strongest tarot card in the pack. McKinnon threw herself against the chair with a frustrated scream: "This is bullying. I'm writing a letter to Professor Dumbledore!"
Laughing, Isabelle put all of her cards back. "I'd do best out of ten but clearly, I'm already the best."
"Yeah? Well, at least my card doesn't symbolise a vicious old man."
"Do I look like an old man? Like Oakton?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. She enjoyed the feeling of winning against Marlene, even in a stupid card game but her friend didn't feel the same. Taking out her wand, she jabbed it at her.
"I could turn you into Oakton," Marlene hissed. Isabelle widened her eyes for a moment but her friend's feirce face was too much and she burst out laughing next to Lily. Balling up her cloak, Marlene threw it at her.
"Me? You've got the hair for it. If you dare, I'll set Eris on you," Isabelle giggled, catching the cape then throwing it back – Lily snorted and flicked one of the cards and Marlene's outstretched wand hand. They created a battle of flying paper and enchanted areodynamics. Soon, the whole compartment became a wreckage of flying tarot cards and Gryffindor robes, the three girls unable to breathe through their laughter when the trolley lady came around.
"So, why do you think we were searched after the carriages?" Marlene asked Isabelle and Lily as they sat at the Gryffindor table. They had a few minutes until the sorting, a time filled with multiple conversations about the Ministry Officials stood at the entrance to Hogwarts.
They had been in thick, black cloaks that dragged along the floor. Isabelle could barely see their faces underneath the rimmed hat they wore, she'd tried to get a good look when they waved a spell across her.
"They didn't have any faces," Alice Longbottom whispered erratically. "I tried to catch their eye but there was nothing there!"
"Al, their faces were covered."
Millicent Gygars took a large space opposite Isabelle, her hands clasped together as if she were about to conduct an interview. "I know what they are," she said wistfully. The three girls waited in anticipation. "Unspeakables."
"Unspeakables?" Isabelle repeated. "Aren't they top secret Ministry agents? Why would-"
Marlene rolled her eyes. "Unspeakables don't speak. It's understandable, yeah, but all they did was wave their wands over us. They could've just been from the Ministry." Millicent's eyes glazed over, she smiled.
"Why did they look like such unhappy rabbits, then?"
Isabelle laughed, thinking she was joking but quickly realised the girl wasn't. Coughing, she said slowly: "Millicent, I think you've missed the point. I think they were just checking we didn't bring anything dangerous."
"But why would we bring anything dangerous?" Marlene interrupted Millicent, her eyes big. "Surely those attacks over the summer don't have anything to do with anyone here."
The only people Isabelle could think would do anything to harm the school were the Slytherins. Especially those in her year. They were a group of five, led by Evan Rosier and Avery who were made it their educational task to torment every student underneath Hogwarts' roof. They were five of the nastiest purebloods she'd ever met, never in trouble but always seemed to be near it when something happened. Wilkes liked to tell her that mudbloods deserved everything they got, until he was moved down a year for being too thick and she only ever saw him when they passed each other in the corridor.
Rabastan was the worst. Best friends with Evan and Severus, he patrolled the corridor frequently at night for any first years out of bed. You usually found them dangling from the astronomy tower or shivering on the edge of the Dark Forest.
They never said who did it to them, and sometimes it felt as if it were only the students who paid attention to the dark truth of Slytherins. Rodolphus was particularly good at making sure of that.
Isabelle didn't realise she had turned around to look at their table and she blinked back to the present. Turning back to her friends, she said: "Not every wizard is good. I think we all know that by now." Lily was too looking at their group.
"Do you think that of them could really hurt someone, though?" She asked. "I mean really hurt someone."
None of them could answer her as Professor Dumbledore came ushering the last few pupils into the hall, flicking his wand to close the doors and making his way to the podium. The girls stopped talking, a polite hush falling upon Hogwarts as they listened to his welcome. For a few moments, he spoke about the lack of changes in staff and how the school should welcome new minds. The topic of Ministry Officials checking everyones luggage wasn't bought up at all, in fact, it was mentioned that he hoped everyone arrived safetly and adequately onto the grounds.
Dumbledore then lifted a hand, allowing the Great Hall doors to open and the first years in.
Isabelle's palm was supporting her head as she watched the first years scurry up the centre of the hall. The little things struggled to keep up with Professor McGonagall, a couple stumbling over their new cloaks and each other. From what Isabelle could remember, it was one of the most traumatic moments of her life. Sweating her way through a crowded hall with no knowledge of an enchanted ceiling or floating candles or a talking hat. It made everything worse that she believed everyone was watching her. The irony of it was that now, she didn't care about the first years and it was all, a rather boring affair.
Yawning, she struggled to refocus on the professors up front, who didn't appear even the slightest bit drowsy. The train back was full of gossip and exploding snap, there was no time for sleep then.
McGonagall stopped at the top of the hall, just in front and to left of Dumbledore. As always, she was wearing emerald green for the start of term; a rich colour adorned with a velvet hat atop her head. The Sorting Hat was already there, as dusty as ever and probably just as grumpy. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:
"One thousand years ago is where this story starts,
There were four sorcerers with strong and kind hearts,
Gryffindor from the lion's jaw,
Fair Ravenclaw from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff from Valley Broad,
Shred Slytherin from Slen,
For each had a dream to teach all they knew
Witches and wizards came far and it grew!
A castle stood tall on the shore of a lake,
a thousand years later the magic remains!
But all that remains is not for our peace,
It is fear and vengence,
We must fight to be free of this!
I realise I am old,
I've sat here for a thousand years,
That is my job, I give you more than these seers!
Perhaps too much,
Oh, red, yellow and blue
We shall see to be mourning you all too soon!
And I know you are afraid, afraid of what you'll hear?
Afraid I'll speak the name you fear?
Not Slytherin! Not Gryffindor!
Not Hufflepuff! Not Ravenclaw!
Don't worry, child, I know my job,
You'll learn to laugh, if first you sob!"
The sorting hat created a thick mist of confusion in the Great Hall. When his grizzly voice ceased, nobody was sure how to react, giving a slow applause and half-hearted cheer. Isabelle looked around at her table, absurdly worried she'd missed a great joke in his song. Last year was a joyous recital of her first year poem, where he sang about the beauty of Gryffindor (among the other three). The portentous theme this year was quite different; from her seat, even the teachers looked uncomfortable.
Professor Dumbledore coughed, clapping his hands together. "Right," he said. "Such marveling lyrics. Let the sorting begin! Professor McGonagall, if you will."
The transfiguration teacher went forward hastily, rustling a thick piece of parchment in front of the first years. Isabelle hoped the Gryffindors this year were more exciting, the number of students who wanted to attend Hogwarts was always growing. She thought it was because The Daily Prophet wrote an article every year about Dumbledore's greatness. She heard that the Minister fancied him and that's why he was always praised so.
"What was all of that about then?" Marlene McKinnon hissed across at her suddenly. "'If first you sob?' What's that supposed to mean?
Lily was frowning. "Mmm, and that talk about mourning blue, yellow and red? Slightly morbid, what if he's talking about..." Millicent Gygars, sat beside Marlene, hummed a whispy tune and interrupted:
"I don't think he's talking about that at all. We're all dying aren't we. All the husbands and all the wives. Every minute..." Lily shot Millicent a dirty look.
It wasn't something the girls had fully gotten used to: Millicent's wistful thinking and words. Ever since they'd met her, she always said such odd things and it took Isabelle four years to
Ever since they'd met her, she always said such odd things and it took Isabelle four years to realise that she was always quoting Marilyn Monroe. But the girl couldn't be blamed, she was so childlike that it was easy to forget she was sixteen.
Millicent had long whispy brown hair, that reached her lower back in thin curls. She always appeared rather vacant to the world and latched onto certain objects, things, and people.
"Davey Gudgeon!" McGonagall shouted. Isabelle looked up in surprise that they were already on the letter. The boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, a ground applause erupting from their table behind her. For a couple of minutes, the sixth year Gryffindor watched half-a-dozen first years shake their way to the platform and suffer having that musty old thing on top of their heads. Four went into Gryffindor, three more into Ravenclaw and then one into Slytherin; a snotty looking boy with thin black hair named Otto. When he joined his table, Ludo Bagman slapped him on the back with a proud smile.
"Isabelle? Isabelle! Did that singing make you deaf?" She looked at Marlene wildly then returned a bored, mellow feeling. Her friend's screeching wasn't something she missed over summer, but that was just McKinnon for you. "Sorry, Mar," Isabelle responded. "I was just seeing who would join us."
"Didn't you hear what Potter just said?" Marlene whispered. Isabelle looked at James who was in deep conversation with another Gryffindor, obviously pre-occupied with another topic. Marlene whacked her hand.
"What was that for?" Isabelle hissed, holding it with a frown. "Is something Potter said really that important?"
"Yes! Well, aside from the routine compliment he gives to Lily. But he just said the hat hears things in Dumbledore's Office, about the Ministry – bad things, Belle."
"Potter doesn't know a thing, Marlene." Lily cast James a hostile glare, and then turned to her other friend fiercely. "Don't believe a word he says Isabelle, it's all a lie for attention. He just can't tell the difference between the good and bad kind."
Beside Marlene was Alice, a spririted girl with a pixie hair cut that made her eyes appear massive. She was friends with everyone and was always moving around the Gryffindor table. She had been listening half-heartedly for a while, but giggled: "I think he only cares about your kind."
Lily rolled her eyes. They all knew James' infatuation with her had reached an obsession over the last five years, by now it was a just something the girls used to annoy Lily but it was a matter of time before she completely lost it with him and screeched that she thought he was the worst boy she'd ever met.
Marlene nearly threw herself across the table. "He told you that you look beautiful, Lily. The boy's become a love-struck idiot over the course of summer."
"That being said he wasn't one before," Isabelle teased, glancing at him. Lily put her head on the table, thick red hair mapping out across Belle's space. "Stop malting all over me. You're like a dog."
"Merlin," Lily groaned. "Enough."
Dumbledore interrupted their giggling at that moment, clapping his hands together so the hall fell silent. Each table had become full, at first with students, but then with glorious food. A bounty of roast dinners, steaming from the kitchens behind the portrait of the pear appeared down the tables. Ever since third year, Isabelle always imagined the house-elves working tirelessly behind the scenes. Lily and herself and found the entrance, accidentally heading back late from the library. Three years later, it felt like a hundred moons had past since that time.
"Merlin!" Amelia Johnson gushed aprubtly from behind Isabelle. Her cheeks were bright red from running, brown hair sticking to her face. Isabelle stared at her incredulously, wondering where on Earth her friend had been this whole time.
Johnson laughed, "I was at an interview for the Holyhead Harpies. Student Quidditch players have a chance to be on the team!" Isabelle gasped.
"That's amazing, Amelia! How did it go? Did you meet Garrett Harrods? Marlene fancies him." She said, lowering her goblet of orange juice. Marlene screeched that she wasn't infactuated with the Harpies beater, but they knew it was a lie.
Johnson snorted as she tucked into the leftovers of the feast, heaping a fistful of peas next to some crisp chicken and carrot. "I didn't meet Garrett but I did see him walking past the interview room. He's shorter than I thought." Marlene swallowed her parsnip loudly.
"How short? Five foot five? That's not bad, you know."
"You're six foot, Marlene."
She looked at Amelia and back to her drink. Her friend was doing so well, even at sixteen, she was on her way to becoming a professional Quidditch player and it made Isabelle envious. It made her feel as if time was running out for her, to start her future career and not get left behind like the muggle-born she was.
Isabelle was glad desert came around quicker than she expected. Starving, her hands were around the bowl of hot chocolate pudding before anyone else in Gryffindor, it was her favourite part of dinner. The warmth made her feel as if she'd never left Hogwarts - it was a home from home.
"Now, as we all finish off our delicious start-of-term deserts," The headmaster took his position on the podium again, a hush fell upon the hall immediately. After clapping his hands together, he loudly said: "a small reminder has been requested by our caretaker, Argus Filch. This year can we please have no more pop-up corridor swamps, flying-book brigades and this is highly requested, in fact in rather large capitals: do not block the toilets on the second floor. Again."
Professor Dumbledore looked down at the sheet of paper through his tiny spectacals with a confused frown. Flurried whispers erupted throughout the halls. Isabelle could imagine Filch's writing was an scribbly mess, as he angrily scrawled on parchment in his office, glancing up at the various torture devices he was no longer allowed to use.
She watched Dumbledore turn the paper over, confused by what was written but then he tucked it away and clapped again. "Right," he finalised. "Another thing: no more charming Soloman. Now off to bed, pip pip!"
James Potter and Sirius Black had been sat in their seats with their hands over their mouths ever since the professor had started talking. The list of pranks had all been them and remembering how they charmed the giant squid to sing last year made them lose their controlled silence. Bursting into laughter, they began slapping their hands on the table.
Isabelle looked at them, bored. "Someone's excited to go to bed."
"Someone's excited by their stupidity," Lily huffed, shoving her robe back on.
The group of five, Alice included, set off from their table. Millicent had run off to try and talk to Tony Abbotts, a Hufflepuff seeker who helped her with Transfiguration. The prefects from the year above were at the back of the hall by the bustling teacher's table, around them were dozens of tiny black-hatted first years.
The rest of the students had formed a cramped group by the door, all trying to get out and to bed. The first feast always took the longest, and with that abscure sorting song, it made the three hours feel like a life time.
Isabelle couldn't wait to curl up in her bed with the works of Frances Burney and Eris asleep at her side. That was her favourite place to be, with company but in solitude.
Suddenly, a booming voice hit her right ear and she looked back at the group who'd joined the closed space around them.
"...and when we hexed Aubrey last year?" Sirius snorted. "Out of everything we'd done, I expected Pomfrey to put a note in about how it took a week to shrink his head back."
"Pomfrey's loves us, I think the only one who laughed more than Peter was her."
Peter Pettigrew was shoved forward by the rest of the students, he ended up next to Isabelle and smiled awkwardly at her. It was then that she felt bad for nearly rolling her eyes. Peter was always nicer than the rest of the bunch; skinnier and more timid. He had limp hair that hung half-way down his forehead. Out of the four of them, it was Peter, as well as Remus which Isabelle enjoyed being with.
Sometimes Remus would sit in the library, on the opposite side of the table because it was closest to the radiator - but at first, she didn't like him because he would laugh at Potter and Black pranks but seeing him every couple weeks, reading the same book, looking slightly dishevelled made her enjoy his company.
"Evans, fancy us being this close to one another." James said. He pushed a hand through his thick hair, looking at Lily with big eyes hidden behind glasses. "Call me true love, beloved or-"
"A prat," Lily hissed as we made our way out the hall. Potter scoffed, placing a hand to his chest.
"First day of term and you're already being so cruel, Lils."
"I told you at the table to push off!"
Sirius stumbled in front of the group, a large smile on his face. "Woah. Marlene, did you do something to your hair?" She touched it, her eyes widening. "I didn't know they had a hairdresser for a trolls," he laughed. "Oh, wait that's Millicent."
He was always such a joker, so funny, all of the time making a joke about anything. Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him, a disgusted tone overcoming her voice. "Don't you dare say anything about Millicent. She's-"
"Half-troll." Sirius interrupted, eyes landing on her. "Almost didn't see you there, Williams. You just blend in so easily."
"Suck a dick, Black," Amelia suddenly spat, grabbing ahold of Isabelle roughly and yanking the other girls ahead so they could make a bee-line for their beds. Sirius laughed at them, "I'd just get you to do that, Johnson. 'Heard you got with Henry Cordals over the summer. Care to share?"
Isabelle rounded on him, "care to do us a favour?"
James snorted. "He'd do anything for a girl."
"Oh, good. Go and choke."
Sirius let out a howl of laughter, throwing his head back so the mop of curly waves nearly bashed into a poor second year behind him. Remus was trying to hide his grin, he was always careful to not get on anyone's bad side whereas Peter didn't try and stifle his giggling next to Isabelle.
It took several moments for the boys to stop attempting to poke fun at them, James deciding to target Lily once again.
"Will you do me a favour and leave me alone, you prat!" Lily screeched.
Sirius let out a whistle. It hit Isabelle's ears. With a scowl, she watched him push through Amelia and Alice then sprint off up the stone steps with the rest laughing behind him. "God, I hate him. Them. Ugh!" Lily cried.
Looking at Evans, Isabelle offered a grimace. Their entire education had been victim to listening to Sirius and James being so vulgarly obnoxious and cruel to nearly every student they could get their hands on. She couldn't wait for the day she no longer heard Black's voice laughing or shouting down her ear.
The group of four were usually together, if not then it was James and Sirius. They caused the most trouble, constantly exasperating the boundaries of the school rules and bullying everyone just to get a laugh out of anyone near by.
There was a bustle of noise as the rest of the faculty moved to get to the stairs, a couple of the ghouls and ghosts drifted overhead; their feet swiping through the hair of students so they shivered. There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, holding an abundance of what appeared to be slime balls.
Isabelle didn't take a moment to hesitate when she realised it was Peeves the Poltergeist hovering the entrance hall door. She shoved her way through the crowd with Lily directly behind her in an effort to escape what ever merciless prank the creature had planned.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle firsties! What fun!"
"Oh, Merlin. If he comes near my new hair with all that... I don't know what it is, but if he comes near me, I'll kill that foul thing!"
Isabelle would've usually reminded Marlene that Peeves wasn't actually alive or dead, he was just a corporeal thing that came with the castle. She used to admit to herself that if Peeves had once been a boy who was brutually murdered in the building then she would have felt quite sorry for him. However, Peeves hadn't spawned from the spirit of someone who'd died, he was a pesky little beast with no respect for anyone.
In her second and fourth year, he'd dumped a jug of hot sewage water on her head whilst she was minding her business in the library. It splattered all over her books and left her mortified.
As they reached the stairs, a rough hand grabbed Isabelle's arm. She looked up in surprise which was soon soothed when she realised it was only Ali.
The tall Hufflepuff had a smile which flashed pearly white teeth. She looked up at his messy red hair and pushed her cheek against his chest. Ali always smelt of lemongrass and butter. It was the smell of Escargots de Bourgogne, a traditional french dish which his parents were obsessed with cooking and sending to him in the post.
"Hello, gorgeous," he said.
Isabelle smiled at his voice, the same way she had for the last two years.
"I tried to look for you on the train," she said. "But I couldn't find you anywhere."
Alistair laughed lightly and said: "No, well, I was with the Hufflepuffs."
Smiling warmly, she asked about his summer, having not seen him once and only receiving a handful of letters. He told her about his holiday to Morocco and she listened intently.
They reached the top of the stairs. "I have to go. I'll catch you later," he kissed her cheek and she gave him a sad smile.
"Tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow."
Ali ruffled a hand through his hair and sorted out his Hufflepuff robes. With a grin, he said, "sure you will."
References Made in the Chapter:
- Laurence Binyon's For The Fallen was an inspiration for the sorting hat's song, as well as the first song from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
- The Lion's Jaw - interpreted from an Aesop Fable called the Dog and the Fox which is about the two creatures discovering the body of the lion and then rip it apart (slightly gruesome I am sorry) but the moral is quite symbollic.
- Millicent Gygars - a half-troll student, her last name is inspired by the Scandinavian myth of a Jötnar (an ugly troll who lived in the mountains and turned to stone in the sunlight). A female Jötnar is known as a Gygjar.
- Frances Burney's novel Evelina is what Isabelle cannot wait to read; an amazing piece of literature I love and recommend, tell me what you think of it if you've read it as well!
- The Giant Squid's name 'Solomon' is Hebrew for evoking wisdom and peace, quite fitting for an old creature in the grounds of Hogwarts.
- When Alistair says "Hello, gorgeous," I wrote it with Tom and Jas from Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging! (the scene where Tom says the same thing lol)
- Aysgarth Falls is a triple flight waterfall in the Yorkshire Dales in England. (Extremely beautiful as I've seen them before!)
Please review and let me know what you think! Please, please!
Comment:
- Hello everyone! Thank you for making it through chapter one, unless you got to the bottom and thought that it was rubbish, then I'm sorry! But I repeat, this is a slow-burn and there are minor details that are different (I'll always pick them out before a chapter) CARRY ON! x