Ottery St. Catchpole, England
August, 1992
"Go on, then, Harry."
"Don't be afraid to give it a good swing. It doesn't hurt them, really. Their heads are as hard as rocks, it'll take more than a short fall to kill them."
"A short fall?" Harry countered, a wriggling garden gnome clutched in his hand. "You threw one a good fifty feet, George!"
George shrugged as he placed his hands on his neck, wiping away the sweat that had beaded up in the summer's heat. Part of him scolded himself for not foreseeing mum's finding out that the younger Weasley boys had snuck out late the previous night to retrieve Harry in the flying Ford Angila. It had, evidently, put them into the midst of the late August heat to de-gnome the garden (a rather useless chore, in his opinion, as half the gnomes in the garden have evaded capture by the Weasley's since before he and his twin were even conceived). Still, he decided not to chide himself too much. Mum would've sent them to work in the garden whether they flew the car into Muggle territory or not, just without as much spite. "Years of practice, dear Harry." he replied.
"You should see mum," Fred continued. "I've seen her cast one completely out of sight—a good eighty feet, I'd say—with her bare hands."
"Give it your best swing," Ron said, pointing out to the barley fields that stretched on to the east, past the Weasley fence.
With a good swing in his skinny arm, Harry let the gnome fly, and the boys watched as it became a mere dot in the field beyond.
"Not bad, Potter," Fred said, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand. "Better than Percy, anyway,"
"Yeah," George laughed. "Ginny had a good twenty feet on him by the time she was six."
Ron suddenly fell back onto the yellowing grass with a grunt and a snicker, soaking up the heat. "Think mum's still mad?" he moaned.
"'course." said George.
"Furious." Fred elaborated. "I'm surprised she's feeding us this morning."
"Because Harry is here, of course," George said, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and cracking his knuckles absentmindedly.
"Oh, but of course." Fred sighed deeply and joined Ron on the grass.
"Hey," Harry said tensely. "I mean… it really does mean more than you know that you got me out of there. But if I knew about the trouble—"
"Trouble? Merlin's pants, Harry, it was brilliant!" Fred cried. "One of our favourite shenanigans; one for the books!"
"Right," George grinned. "And what an honour it is to be put into the book of the Great Gred and Forge."
Harry's face brightened at this, and he and George continued to chuck gnomes out of the yard until Mrs Weasley called them in for breakfast. As they headed into the house, Fred stopped George short and pointed to the barley fields. Alongside a creek that ran through the field stood a solitary, figure that seemed to be walking along the stream.
"A Muggle?" Fred muttered into his twin's ear, eyeing it suspiciously.
"Maybe… but dad's enchanted the house to repel Muggles, hasn't he? So it's got to be a wizard… no, the hair's pretty long, I think it's a girl."
"A girl?" Fred raised his eyebrows and peered over the fence, trying to enhance his view.
"Boys!" their mother called again. "Quit lingering in the doorway, breakfast will get cold!"
Fred, his eyes lighting up at the thought of food, rushed inside and took his place at the table. George, looking back just once more, joined him soon afterwards. The figure was gone when they returned to the garden.
September first was bright and bathed all of England and its inhabitants in its glorious warmth. The countryside seemed to gleam as the Hogwarts Express passed it by, every lake and stream shimmering in the sunlight and every tree as green as could be. Nina sat alone in a train compartment, gazing absentmindedly at the pastures that zipped by, a glass bottle containing a pink liquid cupped in her hands. The summer was nothing more than a black void that consumed her, day after day. Occasionally, she would walk along a creek not too far from her house, though that proved to provide little to no enjoyment. There was no anticipation or excitement to be felt for the coming year, just constant emptiness and exasperation. Nina stroked the glass wall of the bottle in her hands and suddenly felt more desolate than ever.
"Greatness…" she muttered to herself. "What's so great about me?"
There was a knock on the compartment door and two girls, first-years by the look of them, stepped in.
"Sorry," said one, a girl with a mane of bright orange hair. "Mind if we sit with you? Everywhere else is full."
"Fine," Nina told them, turning back to the window. "I don't care."
"Thanks," she said, taking a seat across from Nina. Her companion, a girl with lengthy, wavy blonde hair, took a seat next to her. "My name's Ginny, by the way. And this here is Luna."
"Oh." Nina replied stonily. There was a moment of silence in which the two girls took their time staring expectantly at Nina. She sighed and told them, "I'm Nina."
"That's nice. Is it your first year, too?" Ginny asked cheerily.
"No."
"Really? You look so young… so what year are you?"
"Second."
"What house?"
Nina glared at Ginny, somewhat annoyed. "Slytherin." she replied.
Ginny's voice faltered. "Oh." she said. "Oh, I see…"
"Slytherins have quite the dark reputation, don't they?" Luna asked airily.
Ginny inhaled sharply through her teeth and grabbed Luna's shoulder abruptly. Luna seemed unconcerned and continued to gaze at Nina with her large, blue eyes.
"Yes, they do." Nina replied quietly. "And I'll hex you if you continue to pester me."
"Well, excuse us." Ginny sneered, crossing her arms. "We'll find a different compartment, then. Come on, Luna."
"Oh, but I like her." Luna said, not taking her eyes off of Nina.
"Like her—? Come off it, she wants to be alone, can't you see?" Ginny muttered, warily eyeing the two girls.
"Do you mind if we stay?" Luna asked, her gaze remaining unwavering.
After a moment's consideration, Nina replied, "I don't care."
Ginny sighed. "I'm going to sit with Fred and George and them. I'll see you later then, Luna?"
"I suppose so." Luna replied. "Goodbye."
As Ginny left, Luna and Nina sat in an oddly comfortable silence. The two watched as the sun sunk into the hills in the west, painting the sky a dozen colours. Finally, Luna spoke again.
"That bottle you're holding—what is it?" she asked.
Nina traced the flower imprint on the glass container as she gazed at it sadly. "My mother's perfume,"
An understanding passed between the two. "I miss my mother, too." Luna replied.
Nina sighed and leaned back in her seat, her eyes grazing the toffee-coloured ceiling of the compartment. "You must think me pathetic, wasting away here like this." she said suddenly.
"A bit," Luna replied honestly. "But any dying animal is a bit pathetic too, don't you agree? You remind me of... hmm... a red panda, I think."
"A red panda?" Nina questioned, furrowing her brows.
"Because they're so beautiful and silly, of course. They never hurt anyone unless they have to, do they? So to see one that's so rare slowly dying… it's quite sad, isn't it," Luna said. "To see something so beautiful rot alive? That's what I think of when I see you."
The sky darkened quickly, and the girls finished changing into their robes just as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. They stepped onto the platform together, only for Luna to soon depart for the first-year's boats.
"Hey, Luna?" Nina called as she was leaving.
"Yes?"
"How do you save a dying animal?" she asked, desperation lingering in her voice.
"Well," Luna said, tapping her chip thoughtfully. "Only the strongest can escape immediate death. But there's no use hiding from our fate, if we don't possess that kind of strength." And she skipped away, leaving Nina to be carried away by the crowds of older students.
Hogwarts greeted everyone humbly and warmly, its countless tapestries fluttering gently in the castle's hollow breezes and its glowing lanterns warming the stone surfaces of the walls and floors. The Great Hall filled up quickly with the older students, all of whom were anxious to eat and get to bed. Nina took a seat next to Blaise Zabini, a tall black boy with high cheekbones who was also a second-year, and two older students she didn't recognize.
"Merlin, I'm starved." Blaise moaned. "I'd kill for some treacle pudding."
"Mmm, a nice hunk of it," one of the older students droned, her green eyes lighting up. "Drenched in syrup,"
Blaise sighed as he cupped his face in his hands. "Where the hell is that great oaf Haggar and the first-years?" he snapped.
"Patience, love." said the girl again, staring longingly into her empty goblet. She, too, sighed, and then turned to Nina. "Shouldn't you be lining up for the Sorting?"
"Funny, Boone. She's in my year." Blaise said exasperatedly. "Nina Brittleton, or something." Blaise leaned into Nina and muttered, "Don't ask her about herself, she'll never shut up."
"Brittleton, huh?" she said brightly. "Well, I'm Nora Boone. And this guy next to me is Graham Montague," she motioned to the boy next to her. He looked young, though he seemed to be a considerable height and bulk. His cold, beady eyes were accented by his thick black brows, giving him a rather mean look. "He's on the Quidditch team. He doesn't talk much, though."
"I see…" Nina said, looking over Montague nervously. She turned to Nora. "Do you play on the team, too?"
As Nina was finishing her sentence, Blaise was desperately making rather strange gagging noises and flailing his arms, only for him to groan as Nora's eyes lit up moments later. "There, you've done it now," he muttered.
"Well, my dad—Muggle; I'm half and half, see—always told me I've got the build of an athlete. My sister, Jasmine—graduated last year—played on the Hufflepuff team since third year. Dad was so proud to hear she was going into sports; he played for England in this sport called football. It's terribly boring, really, just kicking some floppy old thing across this mucky field; completely ruins your shoes, I'll tell you that much. He tried to sign me up for lessons when I was eight, what a disaster that was, I'm telling you! I ended up hitting some poor kid in the face and breaking his nose—not with the ball, mind you. My shoe just went and flew off! Anyway, that was the end of football. My mum's from India, see, but she never really liked Quidditch. Crazy, right? My sister and I go bonkers over it. But I'm terribly uncoordinated, so I couldn't make the team if I tried. Montague'll tell you, try-outs were just awful last year. Madam Hooch said I wasn't fit for Quidditch, says if I break anyone's nose again she'll never let me near a broomstick again." She sighed. "It's so unfair, you know? But then again—"
"Hey, look!" Blaise, who had clearly been praying for some kind of distraction, shouted suddenly. "Finally, they decided to show up."
Indeed, the first-years were now piling into the Great Hall, each and every one of them seeming to have a serious case of the jitters. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat onto its stool, and it burst forth into its usual greeting song. After the applause had died down, the Sorting ceremony ensued. Nina took note of the ginger girl from before, Ginny, who turned out to be a Weasley, and the house she was placed into: Gryffindor. Luna Lovegood became a Ravenclaw, somewhat to Nina's disappointment, as she would have enjoyed her company at the Slytherin table, and the plates filled up instantly with heaps of scrumptious food.
"Man, I remember secon' year rike it was yes'er'ay…" Nora continued, her mouth full of a chewed-up pork roast.
"Swallow before you speak, would you?" Blaise muttered, clearly annoyed. "And you're not too far off, idiot. You're only a year older than us, remember?"
"Bu' the work-road is compretery di'erent! We ge' heaps more!" she hollered angrily, small chunks of food playing out of her mouth and onto Blaise.
Scowling, Blaise wiped a chunk of meat from his cheek and hissed, "How would you know? Classes start tomorrow, idiot." He then muttered something about filthy half-bloods and their animalistic ways before returning to his plate.
Nina, on the other hand, found herself giggling in amusement. "Do they often accept second-years on the team?" she asked.
"Depends on how you plan on getting in." Blaise said. "Malfoy's desperate to become Seeker; I'd bet anything he's buying his way in this year."
"Why does he want to be Seeker so badly?" Nina asked.
Blaise snorted. "Because Potter's Seeker on the Gryffindor team, obviously. Plus it's the star position. Draco would crawl through a mile of glass if he could get the chance to gloat in Potter's face."
"So stupid," Nora rolled her eyes. "It's bad enough they beat us last year and got both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. If Malfoy screws us over I'll castrate him."
As the night winded down, everyone headed straight to their dormitories and settled in. Nina, having to share her sleeping quarters with Pansy Parkinson, was less than delighted to find her sneering at her from the other side of the room as they were changing into their nightgowns.
"Nice knickers." she snickered, eyeing her polka-dotted undergarments.
Thanks for taking your time to notice, pervert, Nina thought bitterly as she slipped her Slytherin sweater over her pyjamas. A small glass vial slipped out of one of the pockets, and Nina caught it just before it hit the ground.
"What's that?"
"Nothing." she said, hiding her mother's perfume behind her back protectively.
"Come on, then, give it here…" Pansy said in a falsely sweet voice, reaching for it. "Accio!"
"Hey—" Nina yelled as the bottle slipped from her fingers and into Pansy's. "Give it back! When did you learn that spell? That's fourth-year magic!"
Pansy snickered again, examining the bottle with her dark eyes. "Unlike you, I'm actually a legitimate child. My parents don't mind teaching me a few new tricks… heh." She turned her eyes on Nina, who was now near tears. "Perfume? You actually brought perfume? What, looking for some love? Planning on cozying up with Goyle?"
"No! It's not mine!" she hollered, still attempting to snatch the bottle from Pansy's grip. Pansy pushed her away, laughing.
"All the makeup in the world couldn't save your ugly face!" she jeered, holding the bottle far above her head. On the other side of the room, two of Pansy's friends were giggling uncontrollably.
"Drop it, Pansy!" Nina whined, tears now dripping from her eyes. She felt as though each of Pansy's words were like needles, each one stabbing itself into her throat, slowly suffocating her.
"Drop it, you say? All right, then," she smirked, and tossed the bottle off to her right. Nina scrambled for it, reaching out her hand to catch it. She watched as it fell—it was going to fall directly into her hand! She stretched her finger tips, reaching with all of her might…
Pansy shoved her backward into her suitcase, laughing still, and the bottle shattered on the wooden floor. Nina gasped and scurried over to the mess, cupping the pieces of glass that were strayed about the floor. Both the pungent fumes and her tears stung her eyes viciously as she sat, curled up, on the floor, shaking. Pansy knelt down next to her, a grin strung across her lips. She brushed back Nina's hair, oh-so gently, and spoke softly into her ear.
"How unfortunate," she whispered. "Reducto!"
The splintered glass melted into dust with burst of hot, white light, erasing any salvageable shards.
Then she was gone, and the room went black. Nina remained there, huddled in the corner and silently crying, nothing but Milicent Bulstrode's snores and the lake water lapping against the dormitory's windows pierced the night air. Shakily, Nina held out her wand, focusing all of her mind's energy on that spell she knew would solve the problem.
"Reparo."
The fragments of sand-like glass shuddered for a moment as the spell's effect took place, but then died down quickly and remained in a stationary heap.
"Reparo!" Nina repeated, clenching her jaw. Reparo! Reparo! Reparo!"
Each time was the same: a failure. She sat there, crying still, and cursed her incapability to perform the simplest of spells. Somewhere in her mind, a cold voice muttered,
You deserve this.
Nina agreed as she slowly stood and crawled under her emerald green sheets. She closed her weary, red eyes and let her thoughts consume her.
You're so pathetic, just stand up for yourself, why don't you? Ah, that's right, how could I forget? You're not worth that much.
True, she thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep. Mother knew it, she told me many times. Pansy knows it too, she's just being honest… so kind of her, really. To give me what I deserve.
Poor dears, having to put up with you like this… Aren't you so pathetic? So worthless? Of course you are.
Definitely, Nina replied sleepily. I have no worth.
None at all. Not even as a whore. You are nothing, Nina Brimstone. You've known this for a long time, haven't you?
Nina didn't reply; she had fallen asleep.
Goodnight, worthless child.