(13th September, 5th Year)
"Ah, Ms. Segovstein, please," The wizard waved a hand gracefully towards the plush leather seat in front of his desk. "Take a seat."
Sylvia did slowly, her legs feeling a little shakier than usual. She felt herself sink into the seat slowly, and placed her hands neatly in her lap.
"Now," Dumbledore looked up with a kind smile. "I hear you're a rather proficient duellist."
His gaze was light, the corners of his eyes creasing kindly as waited patiently for Sylvia to reply. She nodded her head once, finding the various suits of armour and paintings around his office more interesting than usual. He continued casually.
"There's always positions in the wizarding community for talented duellists, no doubt." He withdrew a piece of parchment from his desk. "Perhaps, though, you have something else in mind for your future?"
"I'm not really sure, sir." She said hesitantly.
"Not to worry, Sylvia, I had no inclination at what I wanted to pursue when I was your age, either." He reviewed the parchment in front of him carefully for a moment. "Ah, I see you have quite a knack for a few wand-orientated subjects."
Sylvia presumed what he had in front of him was her expected grades so far, and thought he was most kind for not mentioning her disastrous potions or herbology marks.
"Your Defence Against The Dark Art's professor suggests a career in the Auror's office, does she not?" Sylvia nodded again, fiddling with her fingers. "A noble position to take, indeed."
Dumbledore looked up, to see Sylvia staring at her shoes again. He let out a small sigh and adjusted his half-moon spectacles on his nose.
"Forgive me for asking, Sylvia, but I can't help but notice you're a little more troubled than most when it comes to a simple career meeting. Is something else troubling you?"
Sylvia had to hide her scoff behind a cough. Everyone at Hogwarts knew what was wrong with her, but she knew Dumbledore was giving her the option to confide. She had never given him enough credit for his kindness.
"My mother, I suppose, sir." She said, finally looking him in the eyes.
Hanna Segovstein had been cleared of her charges, as no one had actually been able to find any connection between her and Gellert Grindlewald other than the fact that they were both German. They did, however, demote her to the Goblin Liason office ('just a precaution, Hanna') and it was a change that did not sit with her mother well. That, however, had not been the worst of it.
Upon returning to Hogwarts, Sylvia had received a mixed reaction. Some avoided her like the plague, quick to step out of her way for fear that Gellert himself might leap out of her pocket, and others had actually applauded her. Her father had taken her to King's Cross Station and happened upon another pure-blood family. The father had shaken Fredrik's hand and introduced himself, much to the muggles confusion ('Anything you need , we're here for you'). When Sylvia had entered the train, hoping to find Newt and have some reprieve, she had been coerced into a carriage of Slytherin's ('Bloody good work your mother's doing, Sylvia', 'My father says Gellert has the right idea!')
Even Malvin kept his distance. The only contact they had with each other was a brief 'hello' before he quickly departed for the boy's dormitory.
She was beginning to grow tired of it. Even though her mother had been cleared of her charges, apparently to most it was still a matter of debate – and school-children could be especially mean when they wanted to be.
"Ah, I thought that might be the case." For once, Dumbledore looked a little indisposed. Awkward, perhaps? "Children, I have long known, have an insatiable appetite for gossip – muggle or magical. I understand your struggle, Sylvia, but I must be rather insensitive and insist you turn a deaf ear to all of it. Your O.W.L's are fast approaching."
Sylvia understood clearly, and she would be lying if she said the pressure wasn't weighing on her. If her mother could remain strong throughout her struggles, then so could she, she decided.
"Of course, professor." She stopped playing with her hands and straightened her back.
Dumbledore smiled again, though there was a little something different in his eyes this time. Something playful?
"I do find, in difficult times, that our friends can be our best assets. I suppose you have someone you're quite close to?"
Newt's image flashed in her mind immediately. Newt had been the only person so far not to pass judgment on her families affairs. Sylvia looked up and she could have sworn she saw the corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitch a little higher.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Sylvia said a little more confidently.
"Good. Now," He picked up Sylvia's grade sheet again. "Onto your future."
(27th September, 5th Year)
The days after her career meeting did not prove easier for Sylvia. Rumours of her mother's involvement with Gellert and dark forces had only increased ten-fold. The stories had begun to grow more extravagant, some even insisting that Sylvia was in fact related to the dark wizard himself. Sylvia found herself more lonesome, yet more popular than she had ever been before.
Entering the girl's bathroom between classes, Sylvia saw three girls speaking in hushed whispers. Upon seeing her, they quickly ceased their conversation. The tallest of the three, and apparently the bravest, reviewed Sylvia slowly. She was a stocky girl in the same Herbology class, and she recognised her as Ravenclaw's quidditch team captain.
"Well, is it true?" The Ravenclaw said, with a face that looked as if it tasted something bad.
Sylvia reviewed her in turn. "I guess you believe the rumours too, Cassandra?"
"Everyone's talking about it." The smallest of the three spoke up, the light acne scars on her face creasing. "It's hard not to believe really, since your both... well..."
"German?" Sylvia snapped. "I was born here, you idiot. I'm as British as you are!"
Cassandra did not take it well.
"Don't call her an idiot, you filthy-"
Her breath caught in her throat. Cassandra's hands flung to her neck as if she was choking. The two girls beside her gasped and panicked.
"Filthy, what?" Another voice spoke behind Sylvia. The red-head spun around.
There stood a calm girl, at least a foot smaller than Sylvia. Her curly hair pulled into neat buns, her robes pressed and immaculate and she stood with a stare that Sylvia at the time would not have challenged if her life depended on it. Her wand was raised in the air, perfectly straight and unmoving.
This was, of course, the first time Sylvia met Leta Lestrange.
"You are so rude, Cassandra. We've talked about this before, haven't we?" Cassandra nodded quickly, her face paling with a bluish hue. "Are we going to have a repeat of the potions incident? I hear it took weeks for your voice to fully recover again."
The quidditch team captain was on her knees now, and her nose had started to bleed. Leta's dark skin practically glowed, her brown eyes twinkled with malice.
"Leta! Stop it! Stop it now!" One of the girls squealed.
"Only if you ask nicely," Leta spoke, her voice dark and low. It strangely reminded Sylvia of liquorice.
"Please, Leta! She's going to pass out!"
Leta lowered her wand and Cassandra fully collapsed, sucking in air and dry-heaving simultaneously.
Sylvia stared in awe at the scene, her heart pumping wildly. She had nearly witnessed a girl kill someone, and she wasn't taking it well.
The two girls quickly heaved Cassandra off the floor, stuttering about taking her to the hospital wing as they quickly departed from the girl's bathroom (making sure there was a wide berth around the girl with a wand still in her hand).
"I do apologise. Cassandra never learns to keep her great nose out of other people's business."
Sylvia seemed lost for words, her hand on her heart as she stared between Leta and the door. The Lestrange didn't seem to notice, or care, and walked towards Sylvia with a strong air of grace and confidence. She extended her hand.
"I'm Leta Lestrange, as you probably already know. You're Sylvia Segovstein, aren't you?"
The taller witch was acting on auto-pilot and shook the girl's hands, nodding strangely.
"You... almost killed her," Sylvia muttered.
Leta laughed.
Sylvia couldn't believe it. The small girl in front of her, who was a foot smaller than herself and even smaller than Cassandra had almost suffocated someone and was laughing about it.
"Well, when you disrespect your evident superiors, what can you expect?" She said lightly.
So that's what this is about. Sylvia thought. It was just another Slytherin who thought Sylvia was directly involved with Grindelwald.
"Right," Sylvia said tartly, quickly removing her hand from Leta as if it burned her. Once again, Leta either didn't notice Sylvia's evident change in mood - or she didn't care.
"You needn't worry about those silly little girls anymore, Sylvia." Her smile was sickly sweet. "While we're friends anyway." She added casually.
"I'm... going to be late for my potions class." Sylvia went to quickly excuse herself, going to stride past Leta and pretend she wasn't there.
"Of course, see you around!" Leta called as Sylvia quickly shut the large door behind her.
Not only were there dreadful rumours circulating the school about her, now she was attracting the very friends her mother used to warn about her.
Never attack an unarmed person, Sylvia. The only coward there is then, is you. Her mother used to say.
Things in her life were going from bad to worse – quickly.
(17th October, 5th Year)
Sylvia sat in one of the few abandoned towers in the castle. It was fast becoming the only place where she could find some reprieve from the insanity that had now become her everyday life. She could no longer sit in the library for her studying without hearing the whispering of her, and the Gryffindor common room felt too crowded and full of nervous looks. She had distanced herself from everyone, most of all her new best-friend – Leta.
Sylvia had never noticed her before, even though they were in the same Care of Magical Creatures and potions class, but now it's all she ever saw. Leta would smile and wave to her in the corridor, sit next to Sylvia in the library and talk about odd creatures (she would have gotten along with Newt well, Sylvia thought) and had begun to shun anyone away who so much as got within a foot of them. Sylvia had luckily managed to keep her away from Newt. Her presence had quickly become insufferable.
So there she sat, alone in the cold breeze, hearing the distant laughing and shouting of students whom she could no longer associate with. The world had quickly become black and white.
"Oh, there you are." A light voice called. Sylvia stiffened for a moment, thinking the dark-haired-dark-witch had found her, but an unruly mop of auburn poked around the edge of the door.
She had almost forgotten for a while, that Newt had even existed, being too wrapped up in her own problems.
"Hello, Newt," Sylvia muttered, placing a bookmark in the Herbology book she had been pretending to read.
Newt stepped up the remaining steps into the room, his hands in his pockets and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Sylvia had long lost the ability to pretend she was alright.
"It's... nice weather, I suppose," Newt mumbled, staring out one of the large windows that had long lost its stained glass. It was clearly terrible weather.
Sylvia hummed in reply, her arms in her lap and staring at her shoes.
"There's a trip to Hogsmeade at the weekend... I was wondering... well, only thinking..." He coughed into his fist. "Are you going?"
Sylvia shook her head solemnly. "I don't think that would be wise."
"Y-yes... of course." He shuffled his feet. "I didn't see you at lunch today? They had cucumb-"
"I'm going to take these books back to the library, Newt. I'll see you... around." Sylvia quickly collected the books she had scattered around her and stood up.
She had nearly reached the entrance to the stairs when Newt called behind her. "Sylvia."
She turned around slowly with a sigh, looking at him expectantly. He seemed to tear his mind up about something for a moment before quickly walking towards her. Newt took the books out of Sylvia's arm before she could protest.
"Follow me."
"What-" Newt took a hold of her arm and began to lead her downstairs.
They were running at such a pace that Sylvia almost tripped down the stairs more than once. They quickly paced through the corridors of the castle, some of which she had never seen before and all were deserted.
"Newt, where are we going?" Sylvia called, even though they were an arms distance away, Newt seemed to be somewhere else. The Newt that she knew anyway.
"Somewhere perhaps we shouldn't." He called back.
They walked out the front of the castle, and Sylvia noticed the sun was sinking behind the Scottish mountains in the distance.
At first, Sylvia thought they were heading towards the quidditch grounds until they sprinted right past it.
They were heading towards the Forbidden Forest. As it was getting dark. She knew Newt could be odd, but never breaking several school rules kind of odd.
Without hesitation, they ran into the forest and the sounds of the castle and its inhabitants fizzled out into silence. As did the light. When the darkness became too pressing, Newt finally released Sylvia's arm and withdrew his wand.
"Lumos." He whispered. The light wasn't inherently bright, and it barely illuminated their faces.
Sylvia withdrew her wand too and copied his spell hesitantly. The Forbidden Forest was much more daunting in the dark, and every crunch or crack of a branch beneath them sent Sylvia's heart haywire. Newt, however, seemed calm. He navigated the forest with a surety that only suggested he had done this many times before. This only proceeded to make Sylvia more nervous. Knowing him fairly well, her mind started to race with whatever strange creature he was no doubt going to show her. Something probably dangerous, no doubt.
"We're nearly there." He whispered. His whispering did little to comfort her.
Whilst the ground outside of the forest was cold and stiff in the winter breeze, inside the depths of the forest she found everything was dewy and mossy. Her school shoes were not made for adventures, she found out. Slipping on a particularly slippery root, Sylvia (to her shame) squawked in surprise before a strong arm gripped around her waist. Newt helped her on her feet again and she quickly detached herself from his hold. She muttered a quiet thank you and was grateful that in the pale light of her wand that he couldn't see her flushing cheeks. He seemed not bothered, though, as they pressed on.
Then they reached a small clearing with a very small sapling in the middle. At least, she originally thought it was. As they walked towards it, she realised it was a collection of branches stuck together to resemble a sapling. Sylvia never penned Newt as the artistic type. She waited for him to explain and when they reached touching distance of it, he did.
"At the start of the year I was helping out the professor tend to his salamanders, and there was a small commotion nearby. Some of the younger students thought it would be entertaining to set a tree on fire." He frowned slightly. "They didn't realise it was home to a family of Bowtruckles." He placed his wand under his arm. "Most of them died, sadly, but I managed to rescue one."
Sylvia connected the dots easily and focused her eyes on what she thought was a tiny leaf moving in the breeze - until she realised there wasn't a breeze that deep in the forest.
"The professor didn't approve too much, but Bowtruckles are fairly timid creatures who do not create an awful lot of trouble so..."
"You built this?" She finished.
Newt seemed slightly embarrassed. "I tried integrating him into another family but..."
The small leaf outstretched its tiny arms towards Newt, chattering softly, and the wizard extended a finger gently. The being was just about large enough to wrap its arms around his thin finger.
"He's pretty attached."
Sylvia smiled, for the first time in a while. To see what was then a tiny stick insect cling to Newt's finger lovingly was a memory she wouldn't soon forget.
"So, you come here... often?" She asked quietly. The Bowtruckle observed Sylvia with its tiny eyes curiously.
"Every night." He said quickly. "J-just to make sure he's getting on alright... of course. Bowtruckles are quite social creatures..."
Sylvia nodded in understanding. They sat down on the floor together, content in the silence. The darkness of the forest didn't seem as intimidating anymore.
The Bowtruckle chattered to Newt in a high pitch that Sylvia couldn't understand, but apparently her friend could.
"This is Sylvia. She's my... friend." He held his hand up and the creature stood on top of his finger, eyeing the witch.
"Um, hello," Sylvia said hesitantly in return.
"I know your not incredibly... fond of creatures but I thought maybe it could help take your mind off things?"
Sylvia smiled at her friend warmly, and she recalled her talk with Dumbledore at her career meeting.
"Thank you, Newt."
"Maybe we could look after him... together?" Newt stroked the creature softly. "Be his surrogate parents – so to speak."
Sylvia chuckled. "If... does he have a name?"
"I've quite taken to calling him Pickett." He said proudly.
An incredibly odd name, Sylvia thought, but it was very... Newt.
"If Pickett's okay with it?"
Pickett squeaked at Newt.
"Definitely. Though I think you may have to take on the paternal role..." Newt cleared his throat. "He... seems to think I'm his mother."
Sylvia laughed. "I'll try."
(4th November, 5th Year)
"And then you stir counter-clockwise..."
Sylvia did as instructed, hand clammy from the steam of her cauldron and nerves.
"Add one rat's tail..."
She picked up the tail and deposited it in her pot gently, flinching reactively, but sighing when nothing went 'boom'.
"And one more stir clockwise..."
With a deep breath, she swirled the wooden ladle once more clockwise around the cauldron.
Both she and Newt peered into the pot apprehensively, and sure enough, the thick mixture began to turn a dark blue.
"Yes!" Sylvia cheered and Newt chuckled.
The professor came meandering over at the small commotion. Peering his balding head over Sylvia's tall shoulder and into the pot, he smiled and patted her on the back.
"There we go, dear! What a wonderful mixture indeed!" He stared around the class. "And everyone seems to have their eyebrows..." He gave the potion a small stir and muttered evaluations to himself. "10 points to Gryffindor for the improvement!"
Sylvia's smile was infallible as she stared at her cauldron. Her grades had been steadily improving over the course of the year, with the help of Newt and some extra hours in the library, and her goal of at least achieving a passing grade in potions seemed closer than ever.
They duo discussed the achievement avidly, as people began rounding up their ingredients and taking their samples.
But Sylvia felt her before she saw her, and when she tore her eyes away from Newt's gentle smile, she saw her standing at their table.
"Well done, Sylvia!" Leta smiled, walking around the table sorely uninvited. She stood on her toes and peered her head into Sylvia's cauldron, humming appreciatively. "A good poison never goes amiss." She said vaguely as she winked at Sylvia. The taller witch frowned.
"And neither does a good cure, I suppose." Newt piped in from Sylvia's side, and it was only then Leta noticed Newt standing next to them.
She looked at him carefully, her face intimidatingly blank. "It all comes down to circumstance, I suppose."
Newt looked at her oddly.
"Newt, this is Leta Lestrange. My... friend."
Leta smiled her sweet smile and stuck out her hand quickly. Newt took it hesitantly, flinching slightly at Leta's harsh shake.
"Newt? Newton Scamander? You're Theseus's little brother?" She questioned, not bothering to hide the rude disbelief in her voice.
Frowning slightly and staring at his shoes, he nodded once.
"He's the chaser for the Hufflepuff team too." Sylvia butted in quickly, her heart quickening. "You might remember him from when he won the last match against Slytherin."
"Of course," Leta said indifferently. "Quidditch doesn't particularly matter, though, does it?"
"Neither do opinions, particularly." Her distaste for the smaller girl was growing at a rapid pace.
The Lestrange reviewed Sylvia carefully but smiled politely nonetheless. "We'll agree to disagree."
Sylvia ignored her and started to collect her excess ingredients. Leta, thankfully, took this as her cue to leave and did so without further comment.
Glancing up, she saw the other witch walking back over to her table – oddly alone, she noticed.
"Insufferable girl." Sylvia seethed between clenched teeth as she collected a sample of her potion.
"She... wasn't too bad, really," Newt muttered as Sylvia looked up. He was looking in the Lestrange's direction with an odd look in his eye.
Sylvia's frown deepened so intensely that it gave her a migraine later on.
(20th November, 5th Year)
"You're not heading home for Christmas?" Newt asked one day, in Sylvia's private retreat – the tallest abandoned tower. An awful, bitter breeze was blowing through the open windows, but with a few old tomes that the librarian wouldn't miss and a fire charm (safely cast by Sylvia), they built themselves a little fire. They had even brought the tree from deep in the Forbidden Forest into the room, and putting their minds together had managed to enchant it to look and feel almost like a real sapling. Pickett chattered happily in his corner.
"No... my mother thought it best I stay here." Sylvia said, poking the fake fire with the tip of her wand absent-mindedly. "They're still receiving a lot of hate and thought it safer here."
Newt nodded and tucked his long legs closer to himself. He sat in quiet thought for a moment. "You could always stay with us? I'm sure my mother won't mind, she always enjoys the extra company..."
Sylvia smiled to herself. "It's quite alright, Newt. It's quieter here at Christmas, or so I'm told." She had always spent Christmas at home. "I'll be fine."
"Well," Newt said with a glint in his eye. "I suppose I'll have to give you this now then." He reached behind himself and grabbed a small, brown parcel. It had a red ribbon tied rather messily on the top. He turned back to her and handed her the present.
Sylvia sat dumbfounded for a second. They had never given each other gifts before.
"Newt... I..." Sylvia stumbled as she grasped the package as if it was made of glass.
"Don't worry about getting me anything." He said consolingly as she stared at him wide-eyed. "My family gets me more than enough."
"Thank you," Sylvia whispered, toying with the ribbon on top.
"Well?" Newt said smiling. "Open it!"
She laughed and gently pulled the ribbon, the brown paper shielding the gift beneath came apart.
Sylvia's eyes watered.
Beneath the paper was a small, wooden box – the size of a jewellery box. It had a golden Hippogriff engraved on the lid, with its wings majestically outstretched.
"It's a...um... jewellery box. I didn't have a tremendous amount of money so I decided to make something pract-"
"You made this?" Sylvia gasped, glancing back at the carefully carved portrait on the lid.
"Y-yes, I know I'm not-"
Sylvia quickly placed the jewellery box on the ground and lunged towards Newt. She wrapped her arms around him tighter than she had ever hugged anyone before. Sylvia hoped it said everything she couldn't.
Newt stiffened for a second, his arms awkwardly beside his side.
Sylvia snickered. "This is the part where you hug back."
"Oh! O-of course," He wrapped his arms around her back and hugged her back.
After a minute, or what felt like hours, she let go. She turned her head away from Newt and quickly wiped her eyes.
"That is really magnificent." Sylvia laughed, picking it up again. She looked at him and noticed how brightly his cheeks were aflame, his ears that poked out of still unruly hair were practically a deep shade of cherry.
"I-it's... not-, I m-mean... I know-"
"Newt." She said softly. "It's brilliant."
(25th December, 5th Year)
Sylvia had just come back from the Christmas dinner, her stomach practically full to bursting. Overall, it had been a very pleasant day. She had woken up to a selection of presents from people she didn't even expect gifts off. Her mother had sent her another book on defensive spells and her father had messily wrapped up a new pair of heels that were a size too big for her. Peculiarly, Newt's mother sent her a gift too. It was a thin and worn children's book about a baby Hippogriff who studied magic. Strange as the book was (even for magical standards), what was even stranger was the message she had written inside.
This was Newt's favourite book as a child, perhaps your children might enjoy it too!
Sylvia cringed and frowned simultaneously as she read the message. Did she mean her children when she was older, or by 'your' did she mean her and Newt's. It was very odd and Sylvia quickly hid it in the bottom of her school trunk, her cheeks flushed.
Even Malvin had sent her a gift. Though they had not spoken for most of the school year so far, he had gifted her a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. It had a small note of apology tied to it. Sylvia had smiled at the gift, no doubt an intentional throwback to the time when she had tried to eat a whole box of them in one go (promptly throwing up shortly after).
And then she opened the last gift. It a fairly sizeable package, with dark wrapping paper and a white ribbon laced perfectly into a bow at the top. It had no note or writing to say who it was from, but Sylvia opened it anyway.
Inside the wrapping paper, was a dark black tome made of a strange leather. Gingerly opening it, her heart began to pump faster.
It was a very dark book full of spells Sylvia would never dream of casting on her worst enemy. The three unforgivable curses were in there, with crude depictions of their effects next to each of them. No doubt, Sylvia thought, that if she was ever caught with this book she would be kicked out of the school faster than she could say 'Leta Lestrange'. Sylvia quickly ran out of her dormitory and threw the book on the fire in the common room – thankfully vacated. The book emitted a bright green light before finally succumbing to the flame and burning.
Overall, she supposed, the day wasn't terrible. That was until she returned to her dormitory after dinner.
Sat, on Sylvia's bed, was Leta Lestrange – the Hippogriff jewellery box in her hand.
"What are you doing here?" Sylvia barked, annoyed to see both Leta Lestrange and Leta Lestrange holding one of the most treasured gifts Sylvia had ever been given. She briefly wondered how on earth she had managed to get in the Gryffindor dormitory in the first place.
"Just came to wish you 'Merry Christmas', of course!" Leta smiled, kicking her small legs freely. "A rather odd gift, isn't it?" Leta held it up.
Evidently annoyed, Sylvia strode towards her and went to remove it from the witch, but Leta pulled it back towards her.
"Really, it's rather useless. A talented witch like yourself needs something more useful. Did you like the book I gave you?" Leta smiled, the dimples in her feminine face showing.
The same adrenaline rose in Sylvia's stomach. "I burnt it."
Leta's face dropped in a second. "You what?"
There was no polite smile or shrug of indifference, there was nothing but a blank stare.
"I burnt it," Sylvia repeated, distaste in her voice becoming more potent. "I wouldn't be caught dead even reading any of those awful spells, let alone casting them. What made you think I would even enjoy such a grotesque thing?"
Leta let out a small puff of air. "Huh." She said simply, looking back to the box in her hand. "So, you like pathetic little trinkets like these," She held the box up again. "But not something powerful? Something to make you unstoppable – impenetrable?"
Sylvia, through her growing annoyance, began to feel uncomfortable. Leta didn't appear angry or even inconvenienced, she seemed... calm. Deathly so.
"... Sure." Sylvia replied. Another tense moment passed.
"Perhaps you're not who I thought you were," Leta said quietly with a calm stare.
"I'm sorry to disappoint." Sylvia sneered, going once again to reach for the box. Leta easily dodged her grab, and gracefully jumped off the bed and moved around Sylvia, until their positions had been reversed.
"Give that back, Leta," Sylvia said calmly.
"You would throw away a chance of power for this?"
"What are you even going on about?" Sylvia said angrily, her voice steadily rising. "I have no desire for power – and I really like that box so stop being a child and give it back."
"A child? I'm the child? You prefer silly little animal trinkets over my book? Why doesn't anyone understand the true potential of our abilities? Why-"
"Are you barking mad?" Sylvia cut in. "Give it back or-"
"Or what?" Leta said lowly.
Sylvia's breath hitched in her throat as she saw the same stare Leta had given Cassandra at the start of the year.
Sylvia took a deep breath. "Just give it back, Leta."
"Or... what?" Leta said, her dark eyes glistening widely. Sylvia had the odd suspicion that those words had translated into some sort of challenge. Neither of them backed down from a challenge.
In the split second it took Sylvia to retrieve her wand from her pocket, Leta had already wielded hers.
"Give it back." Sylvia seethed, trying her hardest to keep her arm as still as Leta had hers.
"Come get it then." Leta teased.
Sylvia tried a disarming spell, but Leta deflected it with ease.
"A disarming spell? Really? For someone who associates themselves with the great Gellert Grindelwald, your spell choice is exceptionally laughable."
"My family has nothing to do with that foolish man!" Sylvia shouted. Leta looked oddly surprised.
Sylvia tried a stunning spell, and once again Leta deflected it easily.
"Come on, Sylvia!"
Sylvia's heart was in her throat but she had surpassed anger and went straight to venomous hate. She sent a flurry of offensive spells, one of which she had never tried before, and Leta deflected them – but she struggled this time.
"There we go-"
"Stupify!" Sylvia barked - as Leta went to goad her yet again. Preoccupied with insulting Sylvia, Leta had no time to deflect this one and went crashing into a dresser. The spell wasn't powerful enough to do too much damage, though, but it was enough.
The only problem with this is that as Leta went flying – so did the jewellery box.
The box flew out of Leta's hand and into the stone wall, splintering into pieces.
Sylvia gasped and dropped her wand. So caught up into a rage she was that she had almost forgotten about the box altogether. Sylvia ran over to the small wooden pile and fell to her knees.
"Really?" Leta laughed as she got to her feet again. She rubbed the bottom of her back. "You're crying over that silly little-"
A Gryffindor professor came running into girls room, her tight bun threatening to come undone as she surveyed the situation.
"What an earth is going on here?!" She bellowed, looking between Leta rubbing her back, the dented dresser and Sylvia crouched on the floor almost crying over a pile of splinters.
"Oh! Sorry, professor, we were just practicing-"
"Leta?" The professor squawked as she finally recognised the smaller girl. "What on earth are you doing in the Gryffindor dormitory?"
"If you let me finish, professor, I'll tell you," Leta said impatiently.
If Sylvia had not been trying to swallow sobs, she may have found the cheek funny.
"That's quite enough lip from you, girl. You may be a Lestrange-"
"We were practicing our stunning spells for our exams, weren't we Sylvia?" Leta said sweetly.
Sylvia wasn't even listening, she was too busy trying to pick up the pieces. If she had them all, she thought, hopefully she could repair it.
"You do not practice spells outside of the classroom, Lestrange. Now, return to your own dormitory at once!"
Leta rolled her eyes and sent the professor a sarcastic smile as she passed her and left.
"Sylvia?" The professor knelt down next the red-head and placed an affectionate hand on Sylvia's shoulder. "What happened?"
Sylvia stared at the small scattering of wood on the floor, and then to the professor. A few seconds passed by. "Just practicing spells, professor."
The professor evidently didn't buy it.
"Now, Sylvia, you can tell-"
"Leta needed help defending against spells, and I offered to help. I suggested we do it here and Leta agreed. It was a silly mistake, professor. We won't do it again." Sylvia said simply, almost not recognising her own voice.
"Well... if you're sure." She said hesitantly before standing to leave. "If you ever need any assist-"
"I'm fine, professor." Sylvia tried to smile. The professor sighed before leaving.
Had that been the end of it, Sylvia might have looked back at her time in Hogwarts with a smile rather than a grimace – but it was only the beginning.