Hey—please be nice, this is my first fanfic…. *hides behind her keyboard* Remus is mine! Everything else belongs to JK Rowling
Chapter One: Of Mysterious Uncles in England
When the letter arrived, I was already so deep into my pain, I couldn't even think of reading it. It was tossed into the stack with all the others; letters of condolence, regrets, and offers for financial and emotional aide.
"Casey? Are you awake?" Mrs. Kalstrom, the neighbor who had been watching me for the last few days, rapped softly on my open door. I turned my face to the wall, hugging my pillow tightly, tears already brimming.
She hesitantly stepped towards my bed. "Casey, I have some good news for you."
I said nothing, not wanting to believe there could possibly be any good news derived from the situation.
"I've just got this from your uncle, over in England," she sat down on the edge of my bed. "He says… Well, he says he's deeply sorry for-"
I buried my head deeper into the pillow. She changed her words immediately. "He's sent for you, Casey."
"What?" I managed softly, my voice trembling.
"He's asked that you be flown to London as soon as possible. He's already enrolled you at a school, where his son attends. You should have received the letter confirming your enrollment-" she paused, reaching for the stack of haphazardly thrown mail to the side. "Yes, here it is."
"I'm not going to London," I argued, back to Mrs. Kalstrom.
"But Casey, you've no choice. He's the only living-" her voice caught and quickly reworded, "the only relative who can take care of you."
"I'm old enough to take care of myself," I whispered.
"Your plane leaves on Friday." Her hand touched my shoulders softly. "Please, Casey, he's all you've got left."
I curled myself into a tight ball and let myself weep at the truth behind her words.
The next day, I finally allowed myself to open the letter containing the confirmation for my new life.
Dearest Miss Casey Franklin;
Our deepest sympathies at your tragedy, Miss Franklin, and our heartfelt wishes for your recovery from the pain. But it is with a lighter heart that we welcome you to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as our newest student..
Your Aunt and Uncle already hold a list of supplies needed for the beginning of the new year, which can be obtained upon your arrival here in London. We shall meet with you soon.
Warmest Regards;
Albus Dumbledore
I stared at the letter, unable to comprehend what I had just read. I had been enrolled into a school of wizardry!? What kind of sick joke was that? And speaking of jokes, who the heck were these people claiming to be my "Aunt and Uncle", whom I have never heard a single word spoken of? Perhaps maybe once, when I was littler, and my mother-
But that hurt to think about. So I stopped.
"UP already? Good, good," Mrs. Kalstrom bustled through the door, suitcases and boxes in hands. "We need to get you packed and ready as soon as possible!"
I held the acceptance letter from Hogwart's and sighed. "Mrs. Kalstrom, have you ever heard of this school… This, Hogwart's School of Wizardry?"
She avoided my eyes. "Perhaps… Your mother might have mentioned it once or twice before…."
"What's my uncle's name?"
"It's Lucius." She answered, relieved to have the topic changed. "Lucius Malfoy."
I nodded silently, tucking the letter into my jeans pocket. "What should I take?" I asked.
"Everything."
We began packing.
Friday arrived sooner than I had hoped. I spent that morning in the cemetery.
"I have to go soon," I whispered to the two marked headstones, setting daisies on top of them. "They're sending me to London. With my Uncle Lucius." I kneeled down. "Why haven't you ever told me I had an uncle? And why am I going to a school of wizardry, Mom?" Tears brimmed. "There's so much you haven't told me; so much I need to know. And now I'm going all the way across the globe and I won't even be able to tell you about it." I stared at the carved names in the marble, the letter blurring through my tears. "I miss you. God, I miss you so much"
"Casey-" Mrs. Kalstrom called my name softly, from the waiting car. I nodded towards her to let her know I understood, then turned back to my parents' headstones.
"Goodbye." I whispered, kissing my finger and tracing their names before standing up. "I'll come visit you as soon as I can."
And then, with one long look behind, I was swept away to a new country, a new world, and a new life.
"Now, your uncle will be holding a red sweater," Mrs. Kalstrom was telling me hurriedly, smoothing down my hair. She paused, giving me a soft and gentle smile. "You take care of yourself, Casey." I flushed as she kissed my head and pushed me towards the waiting airplane. "Don't forget to write to me."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kalstrom…" I turned, walking backwards, shifting my backpack. "For everything."
"God Bless, Casey Franklin." She waved, her face pinched in the all-too familiar look of tears. "Call me as soon as you reach London—so I know you're all right."
I nodded my agreement, then turned to board the VirginAtlantic.
"Welcome aboard!" the perky stewardess greeted me, handing over a pair of headphones as I forced a smile in reply. "Enjoy your flight!"
As I took my seat (a window one, as I had requested) I leaned my head against the Plexiglas and closed my eyes. Please, I begged silently, to whomever was in charge of orphaned girls with mysterious uncles in England. Please let this all be ok.
The flight seemed an eternity. The movies they showed were mediocre at best, while the turbulence from Atlantic Storms was enough to make me queasy for the remainder. As we landed, I couldn't help but feel completely insignificant and helpless against the bright lights of London. Slinging my book bag over my shoulder, I nervously began rechecking my appearance in the window. Hair straight, clothes unwrinkled, shoes tied. Anxiety wracked at my body like an undulating ocean as I slowly inched my way towards the front of the plane. The cool air early morning air hit me with great force as I began the walk into the terminal. And then, taking a deep breath, I walked into the airport, blinking from the startling contrast of airline lights and bright artificial lighting.
Hundreds of noises and conversations suddenly hit at me as I searched the crowds frantically, looking for someone with a red sweater. And then, when all was lost, I saw them.
At first I thought I was seeing things. A tall, lanky, mean looking man and his even skinnier wife, flanked by a sturdy boy about my age, with a glare so fierce it almost made me guilty to be alive. Such a sudden, drastic change from the gentle, sweet smiles of my loving parents, I felt a fresh burst of tears threatening to overtake me. But I pushed them aside for the sake of the moment and softly tread to them. All three wore looks of complete boredom and peevishness, I was afraid to say anything.
"Ah—"
Uncle Malfoy's eyes riveted to mine in a "What-On-Earth-Do-You-Have-To-Do-With-Me" look. I faltered.
"Uncle Malfoy?" I finally asked, forcing a smile.
"Casey?" he sniffed, taking in my appearance. I unconsciously moved a hand to tuck hair behind my ears.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," he said stiffly. "She was such a wonderful woman. I knew that good-for-nothing husband of hers would be her undoing."
I stared at him, unsure how to answer. It made me slightly angry that he would address my father like that.
"This is your Aunt Narcissa and your cousin, Draco."
"Hello," I started to smile, but it fell on their stony stares.
"We have been here for two hours," Draco muttered. "I'm way beyond joyous greetings."
I lowered my head miserably, fighting to keep up with their quick footsteps as they led me down towards the baggage retrieval. After hauling my three suitcases off the moving belt, I again had to fight, now laden with two of the three bags, to keep up. Draco, who had been volunteered to carry the third of my suitcases, was behind with me, mumbling and grumbling over his burden. I already felt like a giant wedge had been driven into my heart, and my overwhelming wave of home sickness nearly bowled me over. The ride to my new home was silent and as cold as the greeting I had received in the airport. I was left to sit in the back of the car, hands wringing together tightly in an anxious habit.
"Draco, show Casey her room," Uncle Lucius ordered gruffly, pulling into the driveway of a sprawling brick mansion.
He grumbled profusely, but obediently carried two of my heavy suitcases into the house, down a twisted maze of halls, and into an enormous room, the size of my kitchen back in the States. I set my bag down on the bed in awe, already turning to take in the huge windows looming on three walls, and the brightly colored furniture that adorned the plush carpet.
"Don't expect me to defend you at Hogwart's," Draco said suddenly, breaking me from my daze.
"Huh?" I blinked, looking over at his bored expression.
"I said," he snarled, "I'm not gonna drag you around with me everywhere at Hogwart's. I have my own friends. And they don't include you. So don't expect me to hold your hand and show you around."
I stared at him, thinking of a thousand good replies to his snide comments. But I opted for the polite and reserved, "Fine." And turned my back to him to begin unpacking my things.
"Dad says your father was a wasted life. That your mother was so much better than his level of poverty and destitution."
I stiffened, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a wounded look.
"Dad's always telling us what a pity it was she threw away her entire promising career for someone so… ordinary."
"My father was one of the greatest men to ever walk this earth," I said, keeping my voice steady and controlled. "And you can say whatever you will to dispute that, but I will forever hold his memory dearer than anything you might have to say."
"Whatever." He stalked out the door. "As far as I can see, we should've left you to die with them. Why bother bringing you all the way over here, to start six years late, and expect you to become something you're so obviously not?"
I was left to stare at the vacant doorway, pondering on his words as his footsteps echoed down stairs. Ever since that letter had arrive to announce my acceptance to Hogwart's School of Wizardry, my mind had been a jumbled confusion of distant memories. I knew the name was familiar, but how?
I was soon to find out.
Chapter Two: of Shopping and Big Long Sticks
The next two months went by in a blur. About a week before I was to leave for school (which, it turned out, was somewhat of a year-round boarding school) I was taken to a mysterious and rather suspicious looking place called Diagon Alley.
"This is where most wizards buy their supplies and magic apparatus," Aunt Narcissa explained to me in a semi-civil voice as I was steered from one murky magic shop to another.
"Most wizards?" I repeated, feeling slightly edgy from the past few weeks and their insistence of my status as a witch.
But she didn't even bother with an answer. I hadn't even really expected one.
As she pulled ahead to walk with Uncle Lucius and Draco, I began looking around at the passing people, most in robes, most nodding or giving me small smiles as they passed. Their friendliness, as compared to the Malfoy's cold and obvious disgust with me, amazed and lifted my spirits. If passersby on the street showed this much curtsey, the students at my new school couldn't possibly be too horrible. The thought that I would be lonely and an outsider for the entire year wore on my mind more heavily than any other.
As I was led into a store called Flourish and Blotts, I was suddenly knocked into by an overeager kid, a little older than me, with the same red hair, only slightly brighter.
"FRED! You apologize this instant!" a commanding voice shot through the store as I blinked in dazed confusion, trying to remember why I was on my back on the floor.
The red head turned crimson, a color I knew all too well, and mumbled something inaudible under his breath, undoubtedly aimed towards the plump woman angrily making her way towards us. He offered me a grin and a hand up.
"Quite sorry, really, I'm in a bit of a rush, y'see…" He threw a glance towards his approaching mother and started dusting off my jeans for me, trying to look humbled and apologetic.
"Hey, look, you don't have to do that-" I began, trying to get him to stop, but he shook his head slightly, his bright blue eyes tipped up at me in a pleading look. I caught on quickly.
"FRED! How ARE you! I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you EVER again!" I forced a happy grin onto my face, noting with some worry that the Malfoys did not look pleased with my company.
"Hey, ---" he shot me a look of anxiety. I mouthed "Casey" to him. "Yea, hey…Circe…" he said slowly, eyes darting towards his mother, who had stopped in her path, but regarded us suspiciously. "How's it going?"
I tried not to laugh. "Pretty good, thanks… How're you doing?"
"Ok…"
"Good." I blinked at him, waiting for another cue. He seemed to be out of them. "Well, I guess I'll see you at school then, huh?"
"Yea, guess so." He nodded. "Glad I got a chance to run into you."
I couldn't help it. My smile wavered and I broke out into a fit of laughter. He looked terrified for a second, but after hearing no accusations from his mother, he managed to laugh with me.
"If you're through with your conversation, Circe," Uncle Malfoy said, his teeth gritted, "I suggest we get on with what we came here to do."
My smile faded. I mumbled a goodbye to Fred, who was watching my Uncle with interest, as I was being shoved towards a nervous sales clerk. He was wringing his hands, his big eyes blinking under his thick horn rimmed glasses. He seemed to be afraid of my uncle, something I could easily relate to. He was a temperamental and intimidating man.
"Wh-what can I help you with today, Mr. Malfoy?" he wheezed. As Uncle Lucius showed Draco and my lists to the shopkeeper, I let my eyes wander around the store aimlessly. It was truly a remarkable place; unlike anywhere I'd ever been. I suppose that dealt greatly with the fact that this was the first store I had ever been to that sold, as Aunt Narcissa said, Wizard Apparatus. Which still seemed a great joke to me. I had been told, many times since I arrived, that my mother had been a witch and had passed her magical traits to me when I was born. Ludicrous, absurd, yet somehow believable. Especially now, as I was handed a dozen heavy books with titles such as Spells for the Seventh Year Student, and A Curse Before Dying. It all seemed too great a length for anyone to go just to mess with me.
As I struggled to balance my books, and the rolls of paper (they called it parchment) being loaded into my arms, I noticed a trio of people, my age, watching Draco with their eyes narrowed and arms crossed over their chests. Obviously not a fan club. One of them, who looked suspiciously like the redheaded boy I had run into earlier, was muttering something to the other two. The girl, a tall, very pretty girl with long brown hair, kept shaking her head. The other, a gangly looking guy with glasses, messy black hair, and vivid green eyes, was nodding. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pretended to be interested in the rack of books under the title "Muggle Novels—On Sale!" behind them, straining to hear what they were saying.
"—and you know it wouldn't hurt him, Hermione, it really wouldn't!" the red head insisted.
"You don't just go around turning people into newts in broad daylight!" she said back, angrily. "I don't care how loathsome and disgusting they are."
"But it'd be pretty funny, seein' him squirm around on the floor." The second boy grinned. "We should turn him into a ferret--like Moody did that one time."
"For one thing, it wasn't Moody who had done it," Hermione started, "and for another, we'd be expelled for misuse of magic! We're not supposed to use it until we're back in school!"
"Ah, come off it, Hermione," the red head moaned. "Stop being so goody good."
"You're one to talk, Ron!" she glared at him ferociously. "It wasn't me who took a summer course over at Beauxbatons' in order to 'get ahead for next year'!"
"He only went because Fleur asked him to," the black haired boy reminded her. "And if you had known it could be down, you'd be enrolled for the entire summer!"
She huffed indignantly. "I would not! I have other things to do then study all summer!"
The two boys exchanged looks that clearly stated they didn't believe her at all.
"I have!" she repeated furiously.
My eavesdropping was suddenly cut short by Aunt Narcissa's voice. "Casey! We're ready to check out here!"
In a movement that lacked both skill and coordination, I turned to face her while balancing my books, my shoulder hitting the edge of the Muggle Book rack. It all happened very slowly. The three teens all turned to see who the loathsome target of their newt-vex's mother was talking to, my face turned as bright a crimson as Fred's had earlier, the rack began to wobble suspiciously, and my books began to overpower my balance. For a fleeting moment, I had hope it would all stay in place, but then the rack toppled, sending me reeling backwards under the added weight of several novels by Stephen King and Edgar Allen Poe. With a sound much like a choking cat, I landed, once again on my back, covered in books. As people came rushing forward to take a look, I closed my eyes and prayed for it all to go away.
"Whoa! Didja see that!?" "Is she alright!?" "Who is it!?" were all shouted at once, voices mixing around my burning face like a torrent of rain.
"You clumsy git!" Draco's voice was louder than the rest as I felt his face hover over me. I hesitantly opened an eye, then quickly shut it again to block the furious glares of my relatives.
"It was an accident," I mumbled, feeling the familiar stir of heartache stirring in my throat.
"Clear out, the lot of you," A loud, commanding voice broke through the crowd. I opened my eyes and looked up at a man, in his late sixties, it seemed, shaking his head in disgust as he surveyed the mess I had single-handedly created. From the way everyone heeded his orders, I guessed him to be the owner of the shop. He muttered several things under his breath, none of them pleasant, and pulled out a big long stick. I blinked at it, wondering if he would soon be poking at me for having ruined his Muggle Book display. Instead, he let out a loud booming command, holding the stick high over his head. Everyone around him stood back and nodded, as if agreeing to the words he was saying. Then, to my astonishment, the stick glowed a bright blue for a moment before the books suddenly began lifting themselves off of me, back into displays or into a neat stack by my head. Apparently this was nothing out of the ordinary for them, by the looks on their faces, and I felt myself blush once more at the stupefied and frightened look I knew to be on my face.
"Next time be more careful," he growled at me, tucking away his stick and hefting up my books. Draco narrowed his eyes at me with a look of evil hatred. I suppose my falling was to blame for the way the people in the store began whispering and pointing as he shook his head at me, then turned to stalk back to his parents, both looking extremely agitated.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, but they didn't hear me. I felt the overpowering urge to cry grow stronger, and blinked back the tears forcefully.
"You alright?" the dark haired boy had squatted down next to me.
Unable to speak through the tight clench on my throat, I nodded.
He grabbed my hand, and for the second time that day, I was given a help up. "I've never seen you around before."
Hermione and Ron looked at me suspiciously, but Ron's eyes dawned with recognition and he soon broke out into a grin. "Hey! It's Circe!"
I shook my head miserably. "Casey," I whispered, and hurried past them to grab my books (now in a sturdy book bag the Malfoy's had bought me) before they could see me cry.
I kept my eyes trained to the floor as I wordlessly allowed the Malfoy's to exploit my clumsiness and berate me for making them look like fools. "And don't you dare associate with those Weasleys again!" Uncle Lucius warned, shaking a finger at me. "No good, the whole lot of them! Dirty, filthy, poverty-stricken family… All with that blazin' red hair…" he shook his head. "None of that ruddy hair from our family! Shame you inherited that awful color from that damn Muggle father of yours."
I winced, ashamed of my hair for the first time in my life. I had always been told it was a lovely color, not fire engine bright, and not dark auburn. My mother had been so happy when she saw the red peach fuzz on my head as a baby. I remember her telling me how many women would be jealous of my hair when I grew up, but in the light of Uncle Lucius' tirade, I suddenly became very doubtful of it.
We walked into a store laden with bottle upon bottle of various eye-boggling ingredients, but the ranting didn't stop there. "And that nasty Mudblood! Still as worthless as her parents, that one. Always runnin' round, mouthin' off… Thinking she's so much better than us purebloods. It's a disgrace to the wizarding world to have people like that in our community-" He suddenly broke off, his face turning purple. He shot a glance at me, then cleared his throat. "Erm, and…"
I had been biting my lip through his whole curse-strewn raving. I could feel blood from where I had bit too hard. But as he eased up for a moment, I allowed myself to relax, thinking it was finished.
"AND don't even get me STARTED on that big-headed show-off, that Potter fellow!" Finding a new source for his anger, I held in a sigh and numbly let him finish. "Gallavantin' around like he's some kind of God, that Potter is! Should've been killed with those pathetic parents o' his. 'Stead of going around like some sort of damned hero. Exploiting his mediocre talents and his fame as much as possible to gain attention. It's a mockery to us respectable wizarding families! Brought to fame by a fluke! Raised by Muggles! Babied along by that worthless headmaster you've got over there, it's sickening. Let the boy fend for himself in the real world, I say. Then see how great and worthy the All Mighty Harry Potter is!"
By this time, the Apothecary had measured out everything needed for school, nodding his head and adding his own "here, here!"s to Uncle Malfoy's tirade. Draco was grinning a nasty little grin, most definitely in agreement with his horrid father. And Aunt Narcissa, despite her attempts to quiet him 'lest there be listeners', was nodding her agreement. I took the bottles handed to me and stuffed them in with my books, but kept quiet, so not to be asked to add my own opinion of the trio from the bookstore.
Upon exiting the Apothecary, Uncle Lucius looked down at the two school lists he held in his hand. "Next we'll be needing to buy Casey some robes, a wand, all that first year stuff-" he looked disgusted at the word 'first-year'. "Then we can go grab something for lunch, right?"
"But daa-aad!" whined Malfoy, pointing down the Alley towards a gathered crowd. "I want to look through the Quidditch Store."
I could see the gears working as Uncle Lucius pondered on this one. And then, with a hearty and proud grin at his boy's obvious show of interest in whatever the heck Quidditch was, he nodded promptly. "Good idea. We should get you some new robes for the term." But then he remembered me.
"I'll be fine on my own," I said quickly, not wanting to give him the chance to even think about an alternative.
"Your Aunt will go with you," He decided, but a scathing look from Aunt Narcissa quickly squelched that idea. He frowned. "You don't know your way around in here. It's a dangerous place for first-timers."
"I'll stay right around in here," I promised, my heart speeding with the new-found freedom lurking on the horizon. "Honestly."
"Right." He still looked skeptical, as if expecting me to run off and seek out the people he had just blasted. But then he dug into his cloak (that was another odd thing—everyone around here wore cloaks a lot) and handed me a small leather bag. "Meet us back here in an hour."
"I will." I promised, nearly giddy.
"And just to let you know—that's all the money you get for the year, that is." He nodded at the bag clutched in my hands. "From your parent's trust, not mine. So I won't tell you how to spend it. But once it's spent, it's gone." With that, he handed over the list, turned to give Draco a big smile, and left me. I watched them go, feeling dizzy with freedom. And once they had vanished inside the store, I grinned and began that most sacred ritual—shopping.
My list was comprised of many extraordinary things—robes for school, a cauldron for potion classes, dress clothes for dances, a broom to fly with, and a wand. As I was handed one long stick after another, I finally understood how the shopkeeper of Flourish & Blotts had cleared my mess so easily. No longer was I under the impression he had been in command of a big long stick. It was, in fact, a magic wand, much like the one I finally was given the go-ahead to take.
"She'll be a good one, you can bet on that," the man grinned, rubbing his hands together as he rang me up. "You'll find many uses for her."
I thanked him, leaving the shop with my back towards the door—slightly frightened by the fact that the old man had a lazy eye that rolled haphazardly around his socket and his insistence that my big stick was a female.
I had obtained all I needed from the list, and had another twenty minutes to spare. Looking around the Alley, I weighed my options. On the right, a store of odds and ends, a type of Second Hand Magic shop. I loved old stores like that. But on the left, tucked between two enormous buildings so it's entrance was nearly hidden, a shop that promised "artistic wonders unlike any in the world". Urged by the artist within, I chose left and entered the murky doorway of Painted Runes.
What I walked into truly was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls, but the subjects inside seemed to be moving, shifting, and talking to each other. Even as I watched, a knight in silver armor was galloping towards a young woman singing a song to a pond of fish. He had over aimed, however, and fell into the pond, a giant splash signaling his error. The young woman began rolling on the grass, laughing, as he sputtered to the surface. I couldn't help but join in, grinning madly as the soggy knight pulled himself and his horse from the pond.
"What are ye laughing about, fair miss!?" He demanded haughtily, removing his helmet and shaking his hair. The girl was still doubled over laughing, so I answered for her.
"I think you need to work on your aiming a bit," I suggested.
"I am not in need of your opinion!" the knight answered curtly, stalking back to his own painting with a dark expression on his face. Still grinning, I turned and came face to face with the most striking pair of hazel eyes I had ever seen.
"Hello," a voice, seeming to belong to those amazing eyes, spoke up softly.
"H-hello," I stammered, feeling the familiar surge of red creep up into my cheeks.
The eyes looked past me for a brief moment before returning to mine. "Looks like our brave friend over shot his target again."
I looked over my shoulder at the soggy knight, brooding over his failure, looking quite dejected. The young woman had composed herself somewhat, but still giggled as she laid in the grass.
"Yea," I smiled. "Poor fellow."
The eyes smiled back. I finally saw they were connected with the face and the body of an attractive man, seemingly in his late twenties or early thirties. His hair, light brown with uncharacteristic streaks of grey, looked unkempt but endearing. His clothes, although slightly ragged and worn, were worn with a nobility and dignity only few could manage without arrogance. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."
"I just moved here. About a week ago." I lost my smile at the memory.
His eyes seemed to search mine for the hidden meaning behind the words. "Oh."
We stood in an uneasy silence. I found new interest in the wooden floor.
"Are you a student at Hogwarts?" he finally asked. At my nod, he seemed to relax again. "Right… I'm a teacher there."
"Oh really? Wow. That's cool." I didn't know what else to say. Aside from a sudden bout of disappointment in his social order, I felt a small twinge of happiness. At least I'd know someone there aside from Draco. "What do you teach?"
"Defense against the Dark Arts," he answered promptly. "Incredible class, I think. I love to teach it."
"Have you taught there long?"
"Well…" his eyes clouded over. "I taught for a year, but resigned. Then, due to some unchangeable circumstances, I was taken back into the fold."
I knew better than to pry, but I couldn't help but wonder what those circumstances were.
"Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't even introduce myself," He rolled his eyes at his lapse and grinned. "Professor Remus Lupin."
"Casey Franklin," I took his extended hand and smiled back. I could tell I was going to like Defense against the Dark Arts.
"Well, Casey, I'm sure you didn't come in here to talk to me," he laughed. "I'm sorry to have kept you."
"Oh, it's no problem at all…" I murmured, transfixed by those sparkling hazel eyes. "At least now I'll know someone at school."
"You'll meet people soon enough," he assured me. "With those eyes and that pretty red hair, you'll have more friends than you'll know what to do with."
I bit down on my lower lip, embarrassed. One minute my hair was a curse, the next it was a beacon for friends to flock to.
"Well…" He seemed to sense my uncomfortable silence. "I guess I'll see you up at school then?"
"Yea, at school," I echoed dimly. He flashed me one more smile before pushing open the door and exiting outside. I watched him go, feeling a rush of witty things I could have said now that he was gone and it was too late to speak them. I hit myself on the forehead for making myself look so stupid in front of him, then whirled around to face a new speaker.
"Can I help you?"
A petite woman, with cascades of long blonde hair streaked with gold, had come up behind me.
"I, uh, I was just…looking," I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. People needed to learn how to catch my attention other ways than from behind, I decided.
"Anything you want in particular?" Her watery blue eyes were soft and kind, and I felt myself smiling back at her.
"I was just looking-" I began. "I mean, I've never seen paintings that moved before."
She tilted her head to one side. "You're accent is American, isn't it?"
"Yea," I forced a nervous laugh. "I'm pretty new to all this witchcraft stuff."
She broke out into a big smile. "Welcome to a whole new world, luv." She gestured around her store with an arm bedecked in hundreds of sparkling bracelets. "Where paintings move, where brooms can fly, and where magic can happen." She took my hand and led me to a row of paints. "You have the soul of an artist. I can see it in your eyes."
I blushed again.
"And here at Painted Runes, it is my job to get that artist outside to see the world."
She launched into a spiel, which basically informed me of the supplies she had in stock, the prices they cost, and then showed me several tools I had never before encountered in any art class before.
"This paint is what brings those pictures to life," she explained, holding up a tube of Life Like Enamel paint. "You simply brush this onto your finished artwork, and it'll take a life of it's own. Mind you," she hurried on, seeing my panicked expression. "Paintings are only that. They can move from one painting to another, but can never leave the canvas."
"Oh," I said faintly, feeling lightheaded at all the information swimming in my brain.
"So is there anything you'd like in particular today?"
"I think I'll stick to the Colored Quills and ParchPak," I mumbled faintly, reaching for the wizard-equivalent to colored pencils and sketchpad. She nodded, taking them to her front desk to ring them up. Then she kindly offered to help me figure the difference between a Galleon and a Sickle, which is what filled my leather bag. I thanked her profusely for her help and hurried out the door, checking my watch to make sure I wasn't late to meet back with the Malfoys.
I was.
"Look who decided to show up," Draco muttered hotly as I ran towards them, trying to keep my packages in the giant cauldron I was lugging.
"I'm sorry!" I panted, coming to a stop in front of them. "I lost track of time-"
Uncle Lucius saw my bag from Painted Runes and pulled on it. "What in hell is this?"
I tried to grab it away from him, but he overshadowed me by a good six inches. "A bloody art book!?" he said, his face red as he peered into the bag's contents. "What in blazes is this for!?"
"To draw with," I managed to grab the bag and stuff it back into my cauldron. "I like to draw."
And, as I had expected, all I got in return for my admission was a curse of how my damned Muggle father had taken all the sense from me and left it at the door. The ranting continued well through the walk to the car (which had been parked in a London alleyway before we had magically tapped a brick into Diagon Alley) and all through the ride home. By the time I had gotten my stuff from the car and into my room, my head was swimming with hundreds of insults and retorts, and places where Uncle Lucius could stick his "bloody Muggle" remarks. Yet they all failed me, much in the same way I had been powerless to dazzle Professor Lupin with my charm at the Art store until he had already walked out.
And at any rate, I would never have the nerve to call Uncle Lucius anything bad to his face. It was him, after all, who had given me a home when I had no where else to go. And it was he, despite my initial misgivings, who was sending me to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I would soon be learning how to use my big long stick as well as the next girl. Maybe even better, if I practiced hard enough.
With newfound determination and strength of will, I was able to survive the following week leading to our departure for Hogwarts.
Chapter Three: of grapefruit and Newspapers
The Sunday we were to leave, I was a wreck. I slept very little the night before, and had to continually check and recheck to make sure my trunk had been packed with everything I would possibly need at this school. I had even managed to smuggle in a pack of stamps to mail Mrs. Kalstrom letters, like she had asked. I doubted the wizards' mailing system (notes tied to owls) would be effective across the Atlantic Ocean.
Finally, at five a.m., I gave up hope of rest and simply sat cross-legged on my bed, staring through one of the windows at the rising sun. It reminded me of the vacation I had taken with my parents two years ago, to the East coast. We had our own private condo on the beachfront, and every morning I would wake up to see Mom and Dad, sitting so close there was no air between them at all, watching the sun rise together. They had been so in love with each other, even after all those years. The only thing I wanted right then was to see them, smiling at me with that warm, sweet look they had, and telling me they loved me.
But, as I forced myself to remember, they were in the ground over 200 thousand miles away. Incapable of warm smiles or well-wishes.
A knock on the door startled me out of my daydreaming.
"Casey! Are you awake!? It's almost time to go!" Aunt Narcissa's voice sounded muffled through the heavy wooden doors.
"Can't we just leave her here?" Draco muttered, passing in the hall.
"I'm up!" I called back, finding my voice strangled and choked. It was only then that I realized I had been crying.
Standing, I wiped my cheeks furiously, smoothing out the bedspread of any wrinkles. Doing one last check through my trunk, I summoned all my strength and pulled.
Seconds later, back on the carpet, I decided I should ask for help.
When I entered the dining room, Uncle Lucius was buried in a newspaper, The Daily Prophet. I could see Aunt Narcissa, her back turned to us, cutting grapefruit in the kitchen.
"That damned Weasley has his head in other people's business again," Uncle Lucius called out, not noticing I was standing there. "Searching for Death Eaters among us. What a laugh, putting that fool in such a position. Likely to get himself killed."
"Is that so bad?" Aunt Narcissa asked sweetly, setting the fruit on plates.
Uncle Lucius laughed coldly. "Get 'im off our backs at least, right?" He turned the page. "Stupid git better watch himself, or he'll find his whole family dead before long. Deistron and Gabble have already been traced to threats."
"But you're much more careful, Lucius." Aunt Narcissa turned, two plates in her hands. She saw me standing there and froze.
"Morning," I mumbled, avoiding her eyes and dropping into a chair. Uncle Lucius lowered the paper, his eyes on me, before slowly raising it again.
"Mornin'," he replied coldly.
"Did you sleep well?" Aunt Narcissa asked, her voice sounding unusually controlled, as she set a plate down in front of me.
"Yea," I lied, not up to discussing the details of my insomnia with her. "I couldn't lift my trunk, though—could someone please help me after breakfast?"
"I'll get Draco to bring it down," Aunt Narcissa assured me. She took a seat across from me and started eating her own grapefruit.
"Get me to do what?" Draco asked sleepily, emerging from the hall.
"Help Casey with her trunk," Narcissa said. "There's more grapefruit by the sink."
"I'm not getting her load for her!" he said angrily. "I'm not her manservant!"
Aunt Narcissa shot him a look that quieted him immediately. "Fine," he muttered, kicking at the carpet with his shoes as he grabbed breakfast. "Anything else you need me to do for you, Majesty!?"
I ate my fruit in silence as he continued with snide comments and nasty glares.
