Author's Acknowledgement: I do not own any of J K Rowling's characters, plot lines or any such magic she created for her novels. This fiction will be in the point of view of my original protagonist and story lines are subject to change throughout. I hope you enjoy.
The Stoic Ward
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Chapter Three: [Daily Prophet]
"Wrong," Victoria Burke shouts, thwacking her daughter's red knuckles with a long wooden ruler. "If you do not get this right, Defence classes will be extended by one hour," she threatens. Altairia's lower lip trembles as she begins again, her fingers aching with each key she presses down. A whimper escapes as her finger slips to the wrong key. "Senseless child." Thwack. "I pay for these lessons and look at you, a disgrace."
"I'm sorry, Mummy," Altairia weeps. Thwack.
"What have I told you about abbreviations, Altairia?" Altairia's tears blot her cheeks red as her chest heaves. "Speak when you are spoken to, child!"
"I am not to use them," she sobs.
"What are you also not to do?"
"Call you Mummy."
"You are not a mindless little brat, Altairia. You are a Lady. Sophistication and composure is all you will ever need to know. Now sit up straight, stop crying and get this right!"
Altairia was scarcely six-years-old when Victoria broke her knuckle. The ache lingers when Altairia sits at a piano, loathing the sight of it. Fortuitously, she was permitted to sell her Mother's belongings when the merciless bitch died. The piano was the first to go.
'Is everything all right?' Carina Starling asks, lightly touching Altairia's shoulder. The new student nods and recompenses her new associate with a gentle smile. The four ladies sharing Altairia's dormitory are unexpectedly pleasant. They do not disturb her and when Carina requested her name the prior evening, she said nought appalling when Altairia answered truthfully. That alone makes her favourable company.
The two of them pace in silence down to the main hall for breakfast. Altairia sits between Draco and Carina, the latter has barely sat down before she is helping herself to food. Draco and Altairia do not speak for the most part of the morning meal, he is preoccupied with Pansy sitting on his left who Altairia hears giggling every few minutes. It must be love; she smirks to herself. Owls fly in carrying post and various items are dropped over the table including a letter for Altairia, Draco receives a replica indicating to Altairia that they are from Lucius. Carina obtains a parcel and a newspaper, choosing the gift to inspect first. However, before the girl so much as glances at her paper, Altairia seizes it. Her baby pictures are on the front page surrounding Sirius Black's Azkaban portrait. She inhales brashly, biting her tongue so that she does not utter the cusses she wishes to screech. How dare they?
'What is it?' Carina asks, inspecting the headline over Altairia's shoulder. 'Those vultures!'
'Vultures?' Draco inquires, turning to the duo. His eyes solidify on Altairia's strained features. As other students across the hall read the Daily Prophet, whispers become more than so and Altairia can hear her name on every student's lips. Draco takes the paper from Altairia as she lets it nearly slide to the table. His eyes examine the body of text and he tosses it down.
'It was going to come out sooner or later,' Pansy says, holding another copy in her hands.
'Be quiet, Pansy,' Draco orders. 'Would you like to leave?' He questions Altairia, she shakes her head slowly.
'It will only acquire more attention and I cannot look guilty. He is a biological factor in my existence, nothing more. This article is lying.'
'Anybody who reads this trash knows that, Altairia,' Carina says, keeping her head down. Altairia takes little solace in her friend's comment considering the mass of the school's populace subscribe to the publication. She succeeds in eating a small amount of fruit, overlooking students that crave her attention and the pitying looks she obtains from Slytherin students nearby.
Draco walks closely by her side on the way to their first lesson which is Divination. She ensures she has a chair at the back of the classroom however eyes still linger on her, the red head and his friend Potter are in her lesson she notices as Draco glowers at the pair of them. Whatever strives her familiar's loathing is deep rooted, she figures.
'Welcome my children,' their female Professor says loudly, hushing the light prattle. 'In this room, you shall explore a noble art of Divination. In this room, you shall discover you possess the sight.' She rises and steps forwards, bumping the small table placed in front of her. Embarrassed, the Professor clutches at the surface to stop items from tumbling over. 'Hello,' she says quietly. 'I am Professor Trelawney. Together we shall cast ourselves into the future.' Altairia finds her just as eccentric as her Headmaster and is not surprised that he would hire such a bizarre character to teach. Perhaps seeing the future makes you marginally insane. The wild-haired Professor elevates her arms as she paces over to the window; her hands wave as if to emphasise her peculiar speech. 'This term we shall be focusing on Tessomancy which is the art of reading tea leaves so please take the cup of the person sitting opposite you.'
Altairia yields Draco's cup and he collects her own. How is that this china can deduct a subjective future when they have not even laid their hands upon their own? The cynical girl looks into the bottom of Draco's briefly, not able to decipher anything in particular.
'The truth lies deep like a sentence within a book, it needs to be read but first you must broaden your minds.' Altairia decrees that this class is to be taken the least sincerely. The Professor has demonstrated the loss of her mind therefore there should not be much contemplation spared for such inefficient practices. Professor Trelawney places her hands upon the head on a male student. What is she doing? 'First, you must look beyond.' She turns and throws her hands up, instigating most of the class to look at where she has motioned to. As if speaking her mind, Altairia overhears a brunette girl speak.
'What a load of rubbish.' She is deskbound between Potter and the red head at their small circular table nearer the front. Altairia's eyes narrow on the back of the bushy haired girl. She was not there a moment ago yet nobody else seems to have noticed her late arrival. A teacher's favourite, she reasons.
'What a waste of time,' Draco says, placing the cup down on the clothed table. 'Are you honestly interested in me reading your tea leaves?'
'No,' Altairia answers, putting the cup in her hand down also. 'I wonder if your Father has had to partake in such exercises. I ought to laugh at his attitude towards this education we're receiving.'
'Broaden your minds,' Professor Trelawney cries out to the schoolroom once more.
'Broaden your mind, Altairia,' Draco says seriously, the Slytherin students regard one another before laughing.
'Stop it,' she scolds, trying her best not to smile. 'You will get us in trouble.' Altairia turns to observe Professor Trelawney has stopped and is presently speaking to the red headed boy, one glance at Draco shows her that he too is interested. 'Are you in the beyond? I think you are.'
'Sure,' the red head stammers. Draco mocks.
'Look at the cup. Tell me what you see.'
'Oh yeah, um. Well, um, Harry's got sort of a wonky cross… that's suffering.' Their Professor merely hums at his deduction. This is ludicrous. 'And er, and that could be the sun so that's happiness. So er, you're gonna suffer but you're gonna be happy about it.'
'Give me the cup.' By now, many students are gazing at the exchange between their professor and this boy. He hands the cup to her and as soon as she previews the inside of it, she shrieks and backs away, clutching her chest. She gapes at Potter. 'Boy,' she whimpers, so flustered she cannot speak correctly. 'My dear, you have… The Grim.'
'Of course he does,' Draco sneers. Altairia shoots him a discontented expression, she doubts by any means that this Grim is a good thing. For Draco to be jealous is beyond impractical.
'The grin? What's The grin?' A boy with a northern accent asks, yelling across the classroom.
'Not the grin, you idiot. The Grim,' Professor Trelawney corrects.
'Taking form of a giant dog, it's among the darkest omens in our world. It's an omen of death,' an alternative boy on the opposite side of the classroom reads; the except is from their text book. How fascinating that it is only their first lesson and someone has already been told they are going to die. Draco snorts when he notices the expression of disbelief on Altairia's face.
As the bell chimes, Draco assists Altairia down the stone staircase towards the forest, carrying what looked like a spider stretched around a library book. It moves and snarls too often for Altairia to take kindly towards it. Care of Magical Creatures should be fascinating and she hopes for all of their sake that it is far more educational than her previous lesson.
Once at the foot of the hill, Altairia sees Hagrid outside what looks to be a rounded shed, looming above the heads of his students.
'That's it, come on now,' he says. 'Come closer. Less talking if y' don't mind. A've got a real treat for y' today. A great lesson.' He nods as if reassuring himself and Altairia cannot help but feel hopeful for him, this is evidently a class he wants to go down well; however, his uneasiness makes her worry. 'So follow me.' They track him into the forest to a clearing, thin trees are dispersed and light shines brightly through.
Draco passes over her book and she gazes after him as he walks some distance away, regrouping with his friends. Though she is entirely content to not share his friendships, she does wish Carina had not been feeling nauseous. Her friend travelled straight to the infirmary after Divination, claiming to not feel right. Altairia hopes her friend does not believe in such absurdity. Nothing wrong will happen and if something were to, they would not unearth it in the bottom of a mug. 'Right you lot, less chatterin'. Form a group over there, open your books to page 49.'
'How exactly do we do that?' Draco asks.
'Well just stroke the spine, o' course,' Hagrid says as if it should be common knowledge. Altairia frowns at the back of him, there is no need to treat students like they are incapable of such tasks when they have not been instructed on how to undertake them. Hagrid saunters away from the group of children, muttering to himself. Draco inspects his book with contempt and starts stroking it. Altairia copies, only needing to do so twice before the latch opens. As they tread towards the wall where Hagrid has ordered them to gather, a boy in Gryffindor robes falls to the ground with the book snapping open and shut in a vicious manner. Instead of offering help, students continue to walk past him while laughing.
'Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom,' says the northern boy she heard speak earlier in Divination.
'I'm okay… okay,' the boy says, Longbottom must be his last name. At least, Altairia hopes so. The book thrashes about and knocks him back into the floor. The Slytherin strides over to him, grasping the book sternly and grooming the spine with the palm of her hand until it settles. Longbottom looks up at her as she has three heads. It seems time will be taken before anyone will trust in her intentions. She exhales and hands the book back to him before she continues on her way to join the others. Draco glowers with displeasure, not missing her act of humanity towards a Gryffindor. Altairia simply smiles and stops a few paces in front with her back to him.
'I think they're funny,' the girl from her former class says aloud, the one who she did not notice enter.
'Oh yeah, very funny,' Draco sneers, talking forcefully to attract attention. Altairia moves out of the way when the class turn to watch him. 'God this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my Father hears Dumbledore has got this oaf teaching classes.' Altairia cannot believe he would speak in such a manner regarding his educator. What could Lucius do? Write a displeased letter to Headmaster Dumbledore? Draco seems to be under the impression his Father has authority universally, what a sore revelation it will be when Daddy does not coming running to his every whim. Unsurprisingly, Draco's friend Goyle laughs. He is the only one who thinks Draco funny.
'Shut up, Malfoy,' Potter shouts. He looks unfazed as Draco, Goyle and a shorter boy all jeer sardonically. Draco releases his bag onto said shorter boy with a smirk across his face. Arrogance, he is consumed with arrogance. Altairia internally pouts, why could not he have been quiet? Must he stand in the centre of attention like a spoiled child? Draco saunters closer to the boy in glasses now that a crowd has formed around them. When he approaches, his eyes turn up and he looks startled. He points to the sky shouting,
"Dementor, Dementor!" The crowd all turn, including Potter to look; gasping as one.
Draco and his friends laugh, pulling their robe hoods up and making ghost noises when Potter turns back to face them. Bushy girl from earlier puts her arm around him to lead him away, sneering at the Slytherin students.
Professor Hagrid clears his throat to get the classes attention. Everyone silences as he presents a beast that looks half bird and half horse.
'Duh du-du-dah. Isn't he beautiful?' He tosses the beast some kind of dead animal for it to rip into. 'Say hello to Buckbeak.'
'Hagrid, exactly what is that?' The red head asks, afraid.
'That Ron, is a Hippogriff.' Ron. 'First thing y'll want to know about a Hippogriff is that they're very proud creatures. Very easily offended. You do not want to insult a Hippogriff; it may jus' be the last thing y' ever do.' Between Dementors and Hippogriffs, Altairia cannot imagine how dangerous Sirius Black could be in comparison. It would be foolish of him to turn up at such a school. 'Now, who would like to come an' say hello?'
As most students step backwards, Altairia is pushed into the back of Draco who she glares at when he turns around.
'Well done, Harry. Well done.' Harry, the messy haired boy with glasses, turns to look at the rest of the student body with a very confused face, unaware that he has volunteered himself. Ron shoves him forwards when he stalls. 'Now, y' have to let 'im make the first move. It's only polite. Stop, give 'im a nice bow and then y' wait to see if he bows back. If 'e does, y' can go and touch him. If not, well…we'll get t' that later.' As Professor Hagrid is saying this, Harry continues to walk towards the creature. If he dies at the hoof of this Hippogriff, Altairia realises she will have to apologise to Professor Trelawney after all.
Altairia and the rest of the class watch as Harry stops a few metres away from the Hippogriff and bows, his robes touching the forest floor. Buckbeak looks irate at first, going up on his back legs and waving his wings. He squawks loudly, alarming the crowd of students. Even Professor Hagrid instructs Harry to move backwards. Harry does as he is told and a twig snaps loudly, Altairia winces.
Harry is told to keep still and everyone waits in anticipation as the Hippogriff decides what to do. Eventually it bows and Hagrid is very happy with the outcome.
'Well done, Harry. Well done.' He rewards Buckbeak with more food. 'Ay, y' big bird.' Harry stands up right, and Altairia cannot blame him if he desires to move as far away as possible after that tense greeting. 'Y' can go an' pet him now. Go on. Don't be shy.' Harry is hesitant in approaching the Hippogriff.
Altairia watches Draco move from in front of her. He and his posse walk over to get a better view, pushing other students out of the way. Some of which moan about being hurt but Draco says nothing. It is then that Altairia realises that Draco Malfoy is a bully. There is no doubt about it. This is not just house rivalry with a boy who will not stand for it. She grimaces and looks elsewhere, unsure as to how she should go about him. Draco is a suitor, as bizarre as that may be to a thirteen-year-old. There is a prospect that she may marry him one day despite them being third cousins but how could she? He is shallow and cruel, and she wishes to be no part in his tedious antics.
'Nice and slow there, nice and slow.' Harry extends his arm out to touch the Hippogriff and it advances as if to bite him. 'Not so fast, Harry. Slow down. That's it.' Harry reaches out again and walks onwards, slower than before. 'Now let 'im come t' you.' The silver Hippogriff advances on Harry and places his beak against Harry's hand. 'Yes, well done. Well done, Harry.' All of Gryffindor that are present clap and Altairia does too. 'I think 'e might let y' ride him now.'
'What?' Harry asks, stunned.
Professor Hagrid lifts Harry and carts him onto the back of the Hippogriff, all the while Harry is trying to convince the educator otherwise but their Professor is having none of it. This is unacceptable. Harry did as he was told, he should not be subjected to ride the beast if he wishes otherwise. He could actually get hurt on the back of that thing.
'Don't pull out any of 'is feathers; 'e won't thank you for that.' Professor Hagrid smacks the behind of the Hippogriff and Harry falls forward, clutching his arms around the creature's neck as it runs. He screams as it lifts off into the air and disappears atop the trees. Insanity. The entire school is engulfed in insanity. It will be a miracle if any of them live to see the end of the term let alone the year. Altairia cannot believe how carefree their Professor is as he saunters about, completely unaware of where Buckbeak has taken Harry and if he is still riding on it and has not fallen to his death; preposterous!
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Author's Note: Thank you to Charmed2100, Chocolover27, Italian Mafia and georgiaLOVESturtles for following (and favouriting). It means a lot!
