So, now I've finally managed to get the new version together. Here, I will repair a horrible, horrible mistake I did in the beginning; the mistake of trying to speed things up. People who have read it before should read this chapter and the next, and you'll notice what it is that I've changed. People who haven't can just ignore this.
XxXxX
Prologue
Now that I am here, at the end of it all, I know now I will never be able to let it go. I thought so once, but it is all etched, burn-marked, in my mind for ever. I relive it every time I dream, go back to those times over and over again. I know I will never see times like that again, times of childish happiness and unawareness. Severus would call it wisdom. I call it a greater loss than I ever could have imagined possible. We have always been different at least when it comes to that. I know I should do something, but everything inside me seems to have seized up. I guess you could call it cowardly, but only by someone who hasn't lived through what I have. Who doesn't know this pain. I just cannot bear facing it.
So I am just watching and waiting.
Sirius would...
No, I don't think I know that. The only thing I know right now is that I still love him and all the others, even though some of them are lost to me for ever. I will wait.
Wait.
Why does my heart burn then?
XxXxX
Chapter One
Kings Cross (Damnit, my shoes!)
My shoes have definitely given up during the week-long march to London. There are holes in them. Or rather, they ARE holes more that anything else. With a sigh, I have to let them go. But then again, I won't really miss them. They were given to me by my dear mum (may she go someplace really hot when she dies), so that no one would believe that I was maltreated. Like anyone would care. I can't exactly see Rebecca or Amanda getting all worried about my health, suing my parents for not taking care of me well enough. But I COULD see them trying to sue me for having the most ghastly pair of shoes ever to exist. I could even see them win. They would just sleep with the judge, and that would be the end of it.
But I won't think of them. Not now.
Now Kings Cross comes into view. Here my new life will begin. And I'm dressed in an old-fashioned black dress which makes me look like an old maid, my hair is (Quelle surprise!) a lamentable mess, and I've got no shoes. I look like a unfortunate cross between my sixty year old aunt and a hippie. Hooray!
And more important, where in the really nasty place where I would like to send everybody I currently know, can I find platform 9 ¾? The place is milling with people, and I can barely distinguish the signs saying "Platform 9" and "Platform 10". I was always a short person. Bloody wizards, complicating things.
A young buffalo at my left suddenly gives a holler that almost sends me sprawling all over the floor. "OI, MOONY!" He waves and jumps and grins, and he's most certainly one of the silliest boys in the world, if I ever saw one of them. He's absurdly good-looking, seems to need a real attitude-adjustment, and he seems ridiculously fond of drawing attention to himself.
"Padfoot!" a soft voice behind my back almost startles the living daylight out of me. I am very jumpy, I'll freely admit that. Spend a lifetime trying to dodge bullies and your own parents – them not being an inch better than the previously mentioned bullies – and you'll notice that you tend to get nerves like wires. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I startle you?" The soft voice is full of concern, and strangely enough, the words are meant for me. Now THAT'S a new experience.
"Yes. I...I am a little nervous..."
"Start-of-school-nerves, yes. Everybody has those. And you are new, aren't you?"
"New where?"
"Hogwarts, if I am not mistaken. You ARE carrying an owl."
Finally, someone who probably knows the way to that blasted place! "Yes. I am new."
"My name me is Remus Lupin, what's yours?"
"Moony, the perfect gentleman" his companion grins. I give him a look that I know would send shivers down the spine of a Polar-Bear. This is the only thing I am really good at.
"Contrary to you, then?" Well, now I blew the opportunity to get to know any of them. But these two are popular, that is for sure. I probably didn't have a chance anyway...
I am awakened from these dark thoughts by the last thing I would expect. The one called Padfoot is laughing heartily.
"You are all too right, fair maiden. I am a real bastard, I'm afraid to say. But hey, I make it anyway."
"I bet you do." My answer is kind of frosty, but now I can't help smiling. He's right. He is a real bastard. But a charming such. I extend a translucent, long-fingered hand to each of them. "I'm Alexita Neidorsdaughter."
"And I'm Sirius Black, out of my mind."
"What mind?"
"Ouch. Touché. Again. You're a sharp-tongued sort of a girl."
"You have no idea. They call me The Black Widow. I kill all my boyfriends by slicing their throats open with my tongue. From the inside."
"Ugh! Remind me never to kiss you."
"You better not. Then you'd WISH I'd kill you. And I would probably wish for being killed."
"Why?"
"Well, isn't that obvious? Being kissed by YOU is not something I would be able to go through without losing my will to live."
Sirius laughs and puts a hand at my shoulder. Immediately, I back away from him, my eyes flaring warningly. But that just makes him laugh even more. He waves his hand, gestures for me and "Moony" to follow. And, sad as I am to say it, I follow without any doubt. We meet up with a tall, black-haired boy with brown eyes, and a short, chubby one who seems even more afraid of his own shadow then I am. Remus introduces them as James and Peter, introduces me, as if we had known each other for ages. As if I was their friend.
How can this be possible? I am not even nearly as startled by the fact that we walk straight trough a wall to get to the platform. I have been despised for all my life. How can these guys just turn up and LIKE me?
XxXxX
A slight breeze brushes some wisps of my impossible and definitely unhealthily unwashed hair out of my face. The landscape is rushing past outside the window, and I am arguing with Sirius, have been doing so for an hour. James, Remus and Peter has dropped their discussion, and are, at the time being, cheering the one of me and Sirius who seems to be on top of the situation. To my grand surprise, it tends to be me.
The door is opened silently, and a redheaded girl appears. Immediately, James's hand jumps to his hair, and he takes a pose that I guess he figures to be cool.
"You all right over there, Evans?"
Oh gods, he must be joking! No one can seriously be that silly. But judging from Remus' and Sirius' suppressed grins, he is not acting. My lips curl into the familiar sneer.
"Oh, it's you." The girl, Evans apparently, grimaces slightly, her voice full of disgust. Then she – completely ignoring James's indignant "What!" – turns her emerald eyes to me. "And who are you?" Her voice suddenly becomes sunny and bright, and she actually seems interested in who I am.
"This is Alex, Lils, a real sweetheart, to whom I am already hopelessly devoted..."
I give him one of my favourite, piercing stares, brimmed full of frost. "Shut up, insolent prat, she was asking me. Realise for once, Sirius Black, that the world does NOT orbit around you, and heaven forbid that it ever will."
"You see, Lily. She is charming."
I kick him in the shins, then – ignoring his surprised yelp of pain – I turn to Lily. I smile, the bleak, reserved smile which is all I can manage. "I am Alexita Neidorsdaughter. Please don't judge me for associating with these morons, but I don't know anyone else."
Remus hides his smile behind a fake cough, and James grins. Sirius tries to look righteously hurt, but the glint in his eyes tells me he enjoys this game as much as I do.
Lily laughs, a warm laugh, full of humour. "I understand. And don't you worry. I never judge anyone out of the first impression."
"Well, that's refreshing. You wouldn't believe the school I went to before. No one told me that a complete absence of a brain was required there if you wanted to avoid severe depression."
Now everyone laughs, even Peter, although it seems to me that he is laughing just because everyone else is, something that strangely enough makes me sad. But it's almost like my smile is melting a bit, for I can FEEL how it becomes warmer, how the bleakness disappears. They accept me. They are all two years older, they are light-years ahead when it comes to coolness, but they accept me. Me; short, skinny, flat-chested, greasy-haired, non-cool Alex, constantly dressed in clothes that even someone's granny would reject as unfashionable.
If I could cry; if I could remember how you did, if I had any tears left... then I think I would.
XxXxX
I look up from my sudden position at the floor. Opposite to me is a boy, glaring at me like I was a bug he would rather like to crush. But that is not what startles me.
What sends cold, unpleasant shivers down my spine, is that looking into his eyes is like looking at a picture of myself before I got the letter with an invitation to Hogwarts. The bitterness, the loneliness, and more than anything, the hopelessness. He is an outcast, just as I've always been, until just some hours ago.
"Watch out, will you!" he snarls, grabbing the book I assume he was reading when we collided. My temperament immediately catches fire. I am NEVER to be treated like I am inferior, ever again!
"If you would keep your greasy, abnormally large nose out of that bloody book, then you might actually be able to see where you're walking." My voice is soft and icy, my sneer is the one someone would give to an ant before burning it to ashes with a magnifying-glass. "You're nothing" it says. Oh, this tone of voice is so familiar, the sneer is used a hundred times, as they and my sharp tongue was the only weapons against the bullies at my old school. But now I'm not the weak one. It's him. And I'm the bully.
I loathe myself for it, but I can't take my words back. I'm too damn proud. And he is too proud to accept an apology. Pride is the only thing he has left, like it was the only thing I had left, once.
I rise up, straightening my silly dress. I don't even look at him, as I brush past, on my way to the bathroom.
When I'm well in there, I almost get violently ill, but I fight back the bile and sit down. Years and years of my previous life returns to me, awakened by bottomless lack of hope I saw in the stranger's eyes.
XxXxX
My mother met my father, and they fell in love. The first years of their marriage were like an utopia, the perfect world. They loved each other to madness, and they adored me. But when I was about four years, my father started to lose his interest in mother. Maybe he started to see all those little flaws that made her who she was. Maybe he actually started to get to know her. I never trusted love at the first sight. It's a shallow sort of love, that doesn't contain much more than simple-minded adoration.
By that time, I was a lovely little girl, with blond curls and laughing blue eyes. And when my mother started to bore him, my father turned his adoration at me. He worshipped me, I was his pride and joy. And I was happy for the attention, loved his devotion for me. By the time I was six, I was his everything, and he was my big idol.
That's when mother started to hate me. She was bitter over being robbed by fathers love. Not that she loved him, oh no, it was simply a question of prestige. No one would steal her admirer!
They divorced when I was seven, but my mother pledged shared custody, so that she could still spill her gall over me. It was about seven years old when I started to realise that something was wrong with my father. He was becoming more and more intimate. At night, he always wanted to undress me, even if I could do that for myself, and later on he wanted to sleep in my bed. And when he thought I was asleep, he touched me. First it was only the upper half of the body, then he started on the more intimate parts. And I did not understand why it felt so wrong, I was so naïve, so I said nothing.
But I felt dirty, felt like I was worth less, like I should be ashamed of myself. I started to eat less, started to withdraw from my classmates at school.
And my father started to crave more of me, wanted me to do things for him, things that sickened me, for now I KNEW how wrong this was. Now going home from school was becoming a nightmare; Home was a place of fear, shame, degradation and guilt. And anger, an anger that I could not get an outlet for at home. So instead, whenever someone still tried to make friends with me at school, I answered with acid, stinging comments, making the rest of the kids more and more wary of me. They started to scream things after me in the corridors, showering after the PE became impossible, since they hid my clothes, threw them into the shower after me, or scratched me bloody with painted, sharp nails. The boys threw things at me if I showed my face on the schoolyard, and sometimes they beat me. The girls were usually more subtle. They didn't talk to me, they all rose up if I sat down at their table, and they laughed at me behind my back. I was a complete outcast.
At the age of ten, my father went the whole hog, and raped me. Brutally, without listening when I pleaded for him to stop. I wept that night, when he couldn't hear. But he was never to see my tears, no one was. My pride was all that I had left.
XxXxX
I've borrowed an extra set of clothes from Lily, since I hadn't afforded to buy wizards clothes. I had wasted my last money on an owl, since I figured that I then would have at least ONE friend at Hogwarts. And the golden-brown owl, which I in an spell of sadism named Peggy, had quite gentle, understanding eyes that appealed to me.
When the train now grinds to an halt, I look more or less like everyone else, except the fact that I look slightly like a furled umbrella in Lily's robe, due to my chronical skinniness. And – of course – my damnable hair is still as unwashed and tangled as always.
Anyway, my newly found friends – as well as my ONLY friends – have already been sorted into their Houses, and are going to take some kind of horseless carriages the remaining bit of our way to school. I'm apparently going by boat. Great. I hate boats. They make me feel insecure, like I will sink any moment.
All first years, me included, follow a man that is a veritable giant to the shore, where a fleet of ridiculously small rowing-boats are waiting. I end up together with a nervous-looking girl with blond pigtails, who introduces herself as Alice Norton, and almost capsizes the boat trying to rise up an shake hands with me. Along with us are a frail-looking girl with burning eyes, Esmeralda Zabini, and her brother Nero, who seems quite mental.
Lovely.
Without anyone even having to touch a pair of oars, the boat suddenly gives a jerk and moves forward, as if drawn by an invisible string. Magic.
I concentrate on outstaring the big, hulking shadow which I suppose is my new school, and I can't help the thrills of excitement that runs down my spine. A whole new world, a whole new life, and maybe even friends... It's like the dreams I used to have when I was younger, dreams about leaving everything behind, of living happily ever after. And it's true.
The moon rises over the treetops, casting bouquets of silver flowers into the lake. A single ray hits the dark building, and my breath is hit from my lunges. Bathing in the milky light stands a colossal building, its towers and pinnacles stretching for the sky, as if they wanted to grasp the very stars.
The mood is broken by Alice breathing a "Wow!". But I forgive her for that, since I was only this close to doing the same thing. The place is huge, and I can swear this is the most majestic building in the world, if I ever saw it. My new life.
Suddenly, there is a cry of "Watch yer heads!" from the giant man, and we dive into a pitch-black tunnel. Finally emerging at the other side of it, we find ourselves facing a pair of enormous gates. In front of them stands a woman in her thirties, rigid and severe. She introduces herself as McGonagall, professor in transfiguration. Transfiguration? I get a sudden image of turning Sirius into a toad, and have to suppress my laughter. This could really be interesting.
Now the doors are opened, and warm light flows out, as we enter some kind of cloakroom. McGonagall tells us to wait and disappears through another pair of doors. I hear voices on the other side of that door, like hundreds of people talking at once. This must be the Great Hall that Remus had instructed me about. Soon, soon... Soon I will be part of this school, soon I will belong...
XxXxX
Oh, holy hippogriffs! (Oh, the disgrace! I'm starting to sound like Sirius, and I don't even know what a hippogriff IS!) There's too much people in here. How can I be sorted if everybody is watching? It's to demand the impossible of me, this is! Foul! Unfair! Naughty, naughty playing!
Some idiots starts whistling and applauding like mad. I groan inwardly when I realise that the idiots are no others then James and Sirius. I am SO killing them. But it feels good as well, I have to admit, even though it pains me. I send Sirius one of my special, patented "You idiotic pest, I would most certainly scratch your eyes out, if that didn't mean I would be ruining my nails"-glares. He grins and waves. I am slaying him.
Now the hat is carried to the middle of the room. And it begins to sing.
I think I have to sit down.
"Now, let me tell you a story,
If you don't mind listening.
It is not my will to bore you,
But yet, pay attention, my friends.
In a time far past and gone
four wizards had a common goal.
to spread their knowledge, said and done,
they set the founding for this school.
Though witty Ravenclaw fair
preferred those children who were
gifted with intelligence like her,
and of whose devotion was heard.
And Gryffindor, the bold,
was more intrigued by guts,
those who did not always as were they told,
and who's bravery was strong.
Oh, Slytherin, the cunning snake,
admired those of ambition.
those who knew just what to make
of their lives and their positions.
But Hufflepuff, so mild,
demanded no such qualifications.
She taught both prudent and wild,
glad, sour, changing or stationed.
But yet good friends they were
Until that sad, sad day,
A day of which much is heard:
The day Slytherin walked away.
Then I was there, and knew it;
The guilt belonged to us all.
For all had we encouraged it,
The enmity inside Hogwart's walls.
Let us not the same mistake make,
Try building up what's broken.
And not again break
The hopes of peace, which aren't yet spoken.
A silence fills the room, and I can see from the sneering faces of some people in the room that the song is not overly appreciated, most of them sitting at one table, where I also notice the Boy From The Train, staring balefully at...
Sirius and James, making faces over to his table. Interesting.
McGonagall calls attention to herself by stepping out on the floor just some steps beside the Musical Hat. "These are the four housetables, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. When the hat calls out the name of your house, you sit down by the table. Lets get started then. Andrews, Brian!"
I listen loftily as "Andrews, Brian!" gets sorted into Ravenclaw, then my attention slips, and I find myself staring at the ceiling – or rather the lack of it – like a moron when the call "Longbottom, Frank!" echoes though the room. I am probably next in line to be humiliated... I mean sorted. The hat roars "GRYFFINDOR!" and I can feel the very unpleasant sensation of my stomach dissolving...
"Neidorsdaughter, Alexita!"
I know I appear calm, composed as I glide forward and take my place. I've got my best "I am above your puny comprehension"-look in my face, and my eyes are brimmed with what could be mistaken for the next Ice Age.
I have never been so scared in all my life.
I lift the Singalong-Hat and put it on, and the blissful darkness is like balm for my soul.
"Hmmm... What shall we make of this?" A whispering, in some way thin, voice in my ear inquires. Just what I needed. More surprises. "Indeed... Here's a strong will to show your worth, along with a strong hunger for revenge... And you are willing to go to any lengths... You have makings for a Slytherin here..."
Slytherin? Go to the same house as the boy from the train? The guilt? The chill recognition of myself every time his eyes meets mine? And Sirius and James... Even though they're most certainly the biggest prats I ever met, they are still... sort of likeable prats. An Remus, with the slow smile and the gentle voice. Peter, so frightened of stepping out of line, petrified of losing the protection that the other boys mean to him, to be left alone. Lily, who really seems to like me, who doesn't judge from the first look... Slytherin? No!
"Are you really sure on that? Well, I guess it would be dumb to put a muggleborn in Slytherin... And you are very brave, in your own reserved sort of way. And very loyal to your friends... Well, then it has to be...
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The only thing I can think of on my way to the table, cheered by James singing a "Go, Gryffindor!"-song and Sirius setting of a bunch of fireworks, is how glad I am I didn't faint off in mere relief.
"Here, sit down. You seem to need it." Remus gestures at the chair beside his.
What is this? How could he know my knees are almost buckling? "Thanks... How could you see...?"
"Your hands. Your nails have cut into the flesh."
Bugger!
Remus smiles softly, a smile that really seams to scream "It's okay." I have to smile back, even though a nasty little part of my mind thinks that this guy is too smart for his own good.
"Wow Alex, you were cool! Not so much as a nervous tick! The ice-girl. How did you manage to stay so calm?" James exclaims. I LOVE that idiot! I smile mysteriously at him.
"Trade secret."
Remus smiles, a smile just a tad devilish. You have to adore him. Peter looks at me with something that seems to be worshipping. Scary. And sad. Lily waves from a group of girls that seems to be swallowing her. She is all smiles and sunshine, talks and laughs and waves to everybody she knows. She's so popular that I really should hate her. But I don't. Because she honestly likes me; because she doesn't treat me like dirt; because she's everything I would want to be, and yet she doesn't rub it in my face.
Sirius – at my other side – is trying very hard to hit the teachers with bits of his serviette, that he stuffs into a blowgun. And I even like him. I am definitely starting to loose my standards. But what the heck. I'm – for once in very, very long time – having a good time. Except that I am so hungry that I am sincerely considering the opportunity of starting to gnaw at my serviette. Or the table. Anything, really. Hmm, I think I'll just move away a bit from Sirius. I don't want to fall for THAT temptation.
"If I would have your attention for a moment!" And old man ("The headmaster, Dumbledore" Remus whispers) stands up at the teachers table. He's dressed in midnight-blue robes, and his eyes are sparkling merrily in the lights of the candles. "Welcome to Hogwarts, new as well as old students. I am to give some instructions to you all. After dinner. Tuck in!"
I LOVE this old man!
The table is suddenly filled with every dish I ever ate, and more. This is the wet dream of a starving man. And me, right now. I start to load my plate. Doing so, I notice that: A. The table is littered with mint sweets. B. The plates are re-filling concurrently with that people are unfilling them, and C. Sirius seems to want to break the world record in eating, both when it comes to quantity, speed and sound effects. Gross.
Not to say grotesque.
I tell him so, and he argues back. Without chewing down the current shovel of food. I tell him exactly what I think of that. He tells me, in very colourful language indeed, what he thinks about people like me in general. I tell him that I forgive him, since imbeciles always feel threatened by geniuses. And so on, and so forth. This is a real argument at it's best, and I'm enjoying every second of it.
Not that I am going to tell Sirius.
XxXxX
"Ballroom Blitz."
The portrait of the fat lady swings open. I stop dead.
"Ballroom Blitz?"
"Yes. Some sort of muggle song, apparently."
"You tell me? That's one of my favourite songs!"
"Oh yeah, you're muggleborn." Sirius shakes his head. "It's strange, really. It seems like you've been here for ages. Like you've always been our friend." He shakes his head again, and enters the hole that was displayed with the departure of the picture from the wall.
Boys! Was he even aware of that he just blurted out one of the nicest things someone ever said to me? Probably not. I smile at the swelling, warm sensation that seems to be filling by those words, mildly complicating my breathing. There almost seems to be some kind of lump in my throat.
I stumble into the room, and I immediately have to fight back a silly, girlish squeak of happiness. This is just too good to be true. Heavy, rustic furniture clad with red velvet, a great fireplace, cushions all over the floor, a thick velvet carpet and soft white skin rugs in front of the fire-place. Heaven.
I surprise everyone – myself especially – by leaping tiger-style, complete with a growl, into a mass of pillows piled up in the middle of the room. Sirius gives a whistle.
"Wild. That's how I like my women."
I find a very convenient – hard-stuffed – pillow and hit him in the head with it. He answers by jumping after me, starting to tickle me. The bastard!
We end up in a full-scale fight, James and Remus joining us with wild cries. Peter mostly keeps out of it. Of course.
Finally, we all lay sprawled on the ground, laughing our asses of. And now I'm crying. Heavy sobs mingle with the fits of helpless giggling, and tears are streaming all over my face.
"Are you okay, Alex?" Remus puts a hand at my shoulder. His golden-brown eyes are full of concern, he leans closer. I lean my head in my hands.
"Did we hurt you?" Sirius asks sheepishly. I smile through the tears, shaking my head. Swallowing, I try to explain.
"I...It was so...so long since I had any real...friends...I..." The rest of what I am trying to say is choked by a sob.
"How long since?" James asks, and his hazel eyes are full of a seriousness I never saw before. He looks older, more mature.
"About...four years...It all started when I was seven...They started to...call me names...beat me...ig...ignore me..."
"Oh..." Sirius breath seems to be catching in his throat, and he takes my hand, looking quite frankly helpless. Dear, dear idiot.
Remus hugs me. Damn him, like I wasn't crying enough already! I cling to him like a drowning, and I can hear him say: "I know what it feels like...". I believe him. There is something about Remus, that almost makes it seem like his is apologising for his own existence. I remember that feeling.
"How horrible..." James looks shaken, completely taken aback. Stupid, wonderful boy!
Peter doesn't say anything. But I can see that he recognises himself.
"I learnt how to...protect myself from them. With my sharp tongue. By being able to always summon a frosty manner towards them. By fighting, if everything else failed." Oh god, how good it feels to talk about this, to unburden myself!
"So that is why you are fighting like a boy" Sirius comments. I give him a frosty glare.
"Was that supposed to be a compliment? 'Fighting like a boy', as I experienced it, is kicking on a girl lying down, with no way to escape. And that is not something I envy."
Sirius looks as if he is about to be sick. "That is the lowest, most cowardly..." He boxes a pillow when words fail him. You have to admit he's rather sweet.
"I…" Remus falters, fidgeting slightly, before he looks up at me with something that seems to be regret. "I would like to tell you… how much I can understand… what it's like to be hated. But I can't. I really can't." The other boys look awkward as well, and I don't quite understand this. But Remus looks so lost and helpless, so I force a watery smile, hugging him even harder.
"Yeah, and Sirius family is a nightmare, right?" James says in low, sincere tones that still sound quite hurried, almost as if it was a way to distract me.
Sirius grimaces bitterly. "Worse. My mother is the damn model of all evil witches in all tales ever written. My brother is her puppet, and my father is a downright devil. My cousins are ghastly. My family's horrible, every bit, except some few ones, but they'll get disowned sooner or later." He keeps his eyes blank, as if talking about something that doesn't really concern him.
And before I can even think, a bitter smile forces my lips to curl, and unbidden, the confession rises through layer upon layer of protection. "My mother hates me, and my father has this nasty habit of raping me. Charming, eh?"
They all fall totally, dead silent, and that is when I realise what I just said.
No! No, it can't be! I promised myself never to tell anyone! The shame... So disgusting... So WRONG…
I turn away my head. No, I am not crying anymore. This hurts too much. I cannot bring myself to understand why I said it. Faced with kind words and genuine care, it was simply as if something inside me melted away. And I hate myself for it.
They are still quiet, but Remus once again hugs me, Sirius squeezes my hand, leans his forehead at shoulder, and James puts a hand at my cheek. Peter looks at me with a helplessness in his eyes that tells me very well that he would act just the same if he had the courage for it. My heart soaring in unbelieving happiness, as they do not pull away from me, I stretch out my free hand, letting it rest slightly on his. That is all I dare to do. I hope he understands.
We sit so for a very long time, and I fall asleep there, leaning against Remus. The last thing I hear is Sirius mumbling "Never again. I don't know how, but I wont tolerate that." Once more, he boxes the pillow. I love these guys.
XxXxX
I wake up by the sun stinging in my eyes. I am surprised to find I am lying in a huge bed. How did I end up here? Where is here? Oh, well, I guess this must be the girl's dormitory. Guess someone must've carried me here and tucked me in.
Shudder.
I roll out of bed, and doing so I notice I've still got my clothes on. At least they didn't undress me. Wow. That's a mental image I did NOT need.
"Hello there. I'm Emily Weasly. You're Alex, right?"
I jump and spin around, facing a redheaded girl with freckles, sitting cross-legged on absolutely nothing. She gives me a bright smile.
"Did I startle you? I'm sorry. You probably wonder how I knew who you are. You see, Lily thought it prudent that someone a little more accustomed to magic should show you around the castle, and I volunteered, since I'm in the same year as you. You see, on HER first day here, Lily got stuck in one of the magical holes in the stairs for hours, and she did not think it would be a good thing you missed your first lessons too. It's six in the morning, by the way, and our lessons start at nine o'clock, so we've got plenty of time."
Geesh! Can anyone talk that much without getting sores on her tongue? Apparently, since sores always takes down your mood, and this girl seems like a real bundle of sunshine. Oh, well...
I sit down at my bed again, regarding her absolute ignorance of the laws of gravity with interest.
"How do you do that?"
"Do what? Oh, the levitating? Well, it's just something I learned all by myself at home. Did not tell mum and dad, though. Did not want them to forbid it. Anyway, it's easy. Just try to ignore that you really should be staying on the ground. Of course, I needed plenty of exercise. You have no idea how many times I've smashed my butt, as my mind suddenly realised that I wasn't touching anything, and it was wrong."
I'm not even trying. It won't work anyway. Actually, I've never seen so much of a spark of magic from me, except at the wandtesting. And I wasn't really doing anything then.
"Bet you're surprised you haven't noticed that you're a witch. That you haven't showed any signs on being magic." She smiles shrewdly at me. This girl is really starting to freak me out. Can she bloody read minds? "Well, you see, if not aware of the existence of magic, such as it is, most people don't notice, since it requires so much concentration, or – in the case of levitation – the lack of it." She smiles. She has a habit of doing that all the time that I find just a tad unnerving. Maybe because I don't.
I notice her eyes getting strangely absent, glazed over in some sort of way. She glides through the air until she hovers over my bed, then she grabs a bedpost and pulls herself down. When she suddenly is more earthbound, she seems to me to become more real. It's like she loses some kind of abstract shimmer, like she was looking at me from some great distance before. Yet she is just the same, a big smile painted in her freckled face, shining from her azure-blue eyes. She extends a small hand, freckled like her face, and I take it in my sickly pale one. It seems like this is important. Like we were strangers until now.
Emily Weasly. A short, redheaded little figure. All smiles and being open-hearted. And – considering what I'm used to – not so bad, after all.
XxXxX
We slide down the stairs to the dungeons, them having suddenly turned into a slide. Emily is actually rolling more than sliding – laughing uncontrollably – but I manage to stay at my feet. Maybe with not so much dignity, but I'm still standing.
Heh. Story of my life.
Ugh. I suddenly collide with someone, and we both topple over. I am to beg the stranger's apology, when I hear a familiar voice saying: "See, Prongs, the girls just keep crashing all over me. And Alex, shame on you, I didn't think you where that kind of girl."
"Sirius?" I growl, suddenly coming face to face with him.
"Yes?"
"You're a prat. No wait, you're THE prat. If all the prats in all the world would start a club, you wouldn't only be the honorary member, you would be the goddamn LEADER. And let go of me!" I roll off, ignoring the fact that I was the one keeping him down. That's bloody unimportant.
He rises up with all the dignity and grace of a person knowing exactly how gorgeous he is. I myself always preferred intelligence before beauty. And... well, he's Sirius. Just that tells a lot of his intelligence.
"You know I love you too, Alex, but lets not make the other girls jealous." He gestures at James, Remus and Peter, and I have to smile, even if I have a feeling that it is a rather unpleasant sneer.
Emily regards our little battle with great interest, and her sly smile tells me that she can see right through it. That actually surprises me, and I make a mental note of not underestimating her intelligence. It's just that I always assume optimists to be quite daft, since I just can't see how you can be aware of life in the way an intelligent person is, and yet smile at it. Maybe it is so, that people like Emily have a strength that I lack, the strength of laughing instead of crying. I don't know.
"Sirius, does it ever occur to you that other people are thinking beings?" Emily suddenly asks, a sweet smile lightening her face.
"Why, yes, of course..."
"Then how can you still believe that you are irresistible?"
He looks a tad dumbstruck for a moment, then he grins. "Well, how could any thinking girl possibly resist me?"
"Aha, I see. YOU are not a thinking being. Can you show us the way to the Potions classroom, dear?" She abruptly turns to Remus. I really have to reconsider this girl's mental capability.
James is trying to stifle a laughter, and Remus seems to have problem describing the way, as the corners of his mouth seems to want to wander of to his ears. And Sirius looks a tad stupid for a second, then he laughs just as heartily as James, who has now given up his futile battle, and is rolling around at the ground. Even Peter is fighting a smile.
For two seconds, I almost feel like kissing them. All four of them. Now, wouldn't that be a sight?
XxXxX
"Well, welcomed shall you be to your first lesson in Potions."
Everyone in the classroom got a shock when our new teacher entered the classroom. She can't be more than twenty, tall, black-haired and with eyes like a summer sky in late twilight. And in some way familiar...
"I am Andromeda Black, and I am to be your teacher in Potions." Okay, that's who she reminded me of. She is more or less a feminine copy of Sirius, just a little older and with blue-lilac eyes instead of black. The same twinkle in her eyes, the same pale, nicely sculptured face, same glossy black hair. Oh dear.
"Now, I am going to start by calling out all of your names, just to make sure that nobody's got stuck anywhere. Then I am going to give you some ingredients, and it's up to you what you make of it. Okay?"
A gasp goes through the classroom. A teacher that lets us do something just for fun? Then everybody cheer. Except me. I have a habit of never rising my voice, as a matter of fact, I am almost scared of it. But I have to smile. This woman's definitely related to Sirius.
When she comes to my name in the roll-call, she smiles swiftly, the same crooked grin as Sirius. She looks so much like him that I almost fall of my chair. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh d e a r.
She gives us a lot of interesting stuff, explaining what it is to us. I get stuck on a snake-skin which seems to have three heads, Runespore-skin, Andromeda comments. Very interesting indeed.
Then I and Emily simply freak out. We try every ingredient, mixing them up in different ways, brewing and chopping and doing whatever falls into our minds. The result is quite interesting. The potion turns to the exact colour and consistence as blood, and it still boils slightly, even as we put out the fire under it five minutes ago. When I accidentally touch the cauldron, I get a really ugly burning-mark.
"Professor! Can you come here and look? We want to know what this is!" Emily calls excitedly. She seems to do everything in that manner, but it doesn't bug me that much anymore. I am losing my standards, and the worst thing is that I don't even consider it to be a bad thing.
Damn this place.
Andromeda comes strolling over to us, but she stops about three meters away, starring wildly. The she suddenly moves faster then I ever saw anyone move before. In a nanosecond she has drawn her wand, and her sharp "Scourgify!" echoes around the dungeon.
Our potion vanishes.
"Wow. Was it THAT bad, professor?" Emily asks, still all sunshine.
Andromeda still looks shaken. "It was too good, dear, that's the problem."
Even Emily is befuddled by that. "Huh?"
"You've just managed to concoct a love-potion. According to the laws of magic, those are Class-A non-tradable goods. That means that it is forbidden to even own it, unless you have a certain permission, and all that's concocted by mistake must be destroyed immediately."
"Why?" a pale girl from Ravenclaw asks, clearly not seeing why you shouldn't be allowed to force anyone you want to love you, no matter what he or she wants.
"It is a mind-controller, that's why. Forcing the special boy or girl to love you may sound romantic, but in truth, you can just as well force a person to eternal slavery. Only that this isn't the slavery of the body, but the heart and mind. Does that sound nice to you? Would you want someone that you don't like to force you to love them?" I can read from everyone's face that they are picturing falling in love with their worst enemy, and we all go into a collective shudder. I picture falling in love with Rebecca or Amanda, or maybe with Charles and Jonathan, my tormentors at school. Or maybe my father. A total slavery, mind, heart, and body...
No, I won't think of it, or it will give me the worst nightmare in history. I think that thought quite often crosses my mind. "I won't think of it." Forget, and it will go away. But still I know some things just doesn't work that way.
I slip the vial with love-potion that I sneaked from the cauldron before Andromeda saw it, when Emily wasn't looking, inside my robes.
For private studies.
XxXxX
We almost get lost on our way to lunch, and end up at a deserted toilet, from which the ghost of a teenage girl directs us to the Great Hall. I am never going to get used to this. Every little detail of this school has so far never failed to freak me out quite grandly. Especially the talking doors. Can't stand them.
When we enter the dining-room, Emily explains to me that there actually is a ceiling to this room, only that it is enchanted to look like the sky outside. Apparently, she read that in some really dull book about this school.
Suddenly, somebody knocks me over from behind, and I am...
Back at my old school, and they will hold me like this, and soon the blows are going to start to hail over me, and they will kick me and spit on me, and I have to get loose, have to get loose, have to get loose...
"Hey! Alex! Take it easy will you! I am not trying to kill you!"
"James! I am killing YOU! Why did you have to do that?"
"It was a joke, mate. Nothing serious. Geesh, I'm not trying to rape you or anything!"
I can really see him bite his tongue, when he realises his mistake.
"Oh god, Alex, I'm sorry. I don't know why I…. I mean, I… I didn't mean..."
"I know you didn't, James. Just don't jump onto me from behind, okay?"
He nods, looking like a puppy who has pissed on the carpet. I have to laugh, and he relaxes. He waves at the direction of the Gryffindor-table. "Come, they are waiting for us."
They are waiting for us. I could kiss him. But I am not. No offence, he's just not my type, and besides, he's already seriously in love with Lily. People seem to have the overly romantic idea that a girl can't be friend to some guys without falling in love with at least one of them. I don't believe that's true. Guys are still people. I don't fall in love with every person I befriend. Of course, I have never yet been in love, you get a tendency of avoiding it when everybody hates you. But I do not think I will fall in love with my new friends. It would be highly inconvenient, and besides, I'm not really the romantic type.
This is what I think. But I don't know love. Apparently, it strikes everywhere, without mercy, almost like a contagious disease. Only that the persons who infects you don't necessarily have to be affected by it. And you don't die from love. Not from love itself, I mean, but maybe by the things they make you do. I always thought Romeo and Juliet where kind of stupid. But that's maybe only because I don't understand them. Have no chance of doing so.
Love.
I really have to think more about things like that. Isn't that what girls in my age are supposed to do? Of course, I never cared about that before. But what the heck. It wouldn't hurt to be normal for a change.
I really think I'm a cynic.
