A/N: This chapter has been rewritten.


Chapter Four – Blackbird

I bet you got pushed around

Somebody made you cold, but the cycle ends right now

'Cause you can't lead me down that road

And you don't know what you don't know*


"Do you think that adulating Professor Snape is a good idea?" Rowan asks me as we head back to the Great Hall for lunch. "The spell might backfire."

"I know, I know," I say, sitting down and filling my plate with an herb-crusted chicken breast and plenty of mushroom sauce. "I just think that it's too unfair, you know. I've just met him and he's already assuming all these things about me."

"Yeah, that's so not okay," she says, comprehensive, stuffing her mouth with chicken curry. "Ew, I hate this."

"Then why are you eating it?" I ask, watching her grab another huge bite.

"Because it tastes like home."

After we finish eating, we walk with our classmates to our first Charms lesson. A slight dread brushes against my heart with the single thought that Professor Flitwick might be as judgmental as Professor Snape. The feeling, however, is rapidly erased when I remember his kind eyes during the Sorting Ceremony, and I realise that he probably won't judge me by my family.

The classroom is in the South Tower, in the third floor, making us climb many staircases and turn two long corridors to get there. The door is already opened and when we get in, I notice that a lot of Gryffindor students are already sitting down. The classroom is long, with wood panels covering every wall, and there are two long desks on each side. There's a long glass-stained window with a big blackboard covering the most of it, and in front of the board is a pile of thick books with our teacher standing upon them.

"He's part-goblin," Rowan whispers to me. "In case you're wondering."

"How do you know all these things?" I ask her, finding a place to sit and opening my Charms book.

She blushes. "I read… and I hear people talking."

We sit in front of all the Gryffindor students. There are three girls and eight boys and one of them specifically stands in the crowd. His face is rounded like a cherubim's, his brown hair is flawlessly brushed, and his face bears an expression of pure and complete dread.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Flitwick says, making a gesture for the rest of the standing students to find their places. "I am Professor Flitwick and I'll be your Charms teacher. Today we are going to learn how to cast Lumos. Can anyone tell me what this spell is used for?"

I raise my hand, but the angel-cheeks Gryffindor also raises his. His brownish eyes meet mine and he trembles. Professor Flitwick looks at us both with a satisfied smile and then indicates the Gryffindor boy.

"The Lumos spell is used to cast light, resembling sunlight, at the tip of your wand," the boy says.

"Correct," the professor says. "What is your name, Mister?"

"Ben Copper, sir," he says, his voice shaking a bit.

"Very good, Mr. Copper. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, who can tell me the counter-spell for Lumos?"

I raise my hand again and Ben Copper does the same. This time, his lips curl in a gentle smile.

"Now let's allow the lady to answer it," the professor says, and Ben lowers his hand.

"The counter-spell for Lumos is a spell called Nox," I answer.

"Very good, Miss…"

"Athena Lockhart, sir."

"Oh, yes," he says. "If you are anything like your brother, you'll have a great performance at this class. He was one of my most skilful students. Also, one of the most rebels."

I feel Rowan's eyes eyeing me with concern, but I don't take my eyes away from Professor Flitwick.

"Are you going to follow the rules, Miss Lockhart?" he asks me, and I feel everyone staring at me again, just like in Potions class.

I clench my jaw, afraid that I'll have to endure this for the next seven years. "Yes sir. I'm not here to cause any trouble. My solely intention is to learn."

"Very well, then," he says, smiling. "Five points for Ravenclaw for the correct answer. Nox is, in fact, the counter-spell for Lumos. Now, class, pay close attention, because I'm going to teach you how to properly cast it."

We spend the next minutes practicing the correct way to hold the wand, the proper wrist movement and how to clearly pronounce the spell. From time to time, Professor Flitwick explains some random information about the spell we're learning about. He tells us who created it, problems people had while using it and other interesting facts. Rowan's face is pure delight, because she's hearing everything she has already learned in the books.

"Now, students," the professor says. "Let's try to cast Lumos."

My cinnamon wand seems to tingle anxiously in my hand, almost like it is begging to be used. I want to prove my darling part-goblin professor that I'm here to be great; that I'm not problematic or a troublemaker. I take a deep breath, holding the wand gently in my hand, and make the cursive e shape to cast the spell.

"Lumos," I enounce, and my heart rejoices when a strong light rises from the tip of my wand.

"Flawless, Miss Lockhart," Professor Flitwick says. "This was the best and strongest execution of Lumos that I've ever seen a first-year student cast. Ten points for Ravenclaw!"

I open a smile, feeling my whole body relax with the relief. I watch Rowan try hard to cast the spell, successfully doing it after a few attempts. She smiles to me, happily shaking her wand to check that, unlike fire, the light doesn't fade. From the other side of the room, Ben Copper seems to have overcome his dread, because he's happily casting Lumos and Nox, over and over again.

When the lesson ends, I have earned twenty points for my house; five extra for helping Tulip with her wrist movement. By the time we leave the classroom, I'm feeling light and joyful, ready to face the Herbology lesson that we have ahead.

We leave the South Tower, heading to the West Wing, taking the long walk that leads to the Greenhouses. Midway, the first year Hufflepuffs join us, probably coming from a shared lesson with Slytherin. A particular Hufflepuff girl seems to stand in the crowd: she has a heart-shaped face, a small pointy nose and messy short bright-pink hair. Though she looks extremely different from her friends, her face is one of the most beautiful. It's a unique kind of beautiful, but she's pretty, nevertheless. She's talking excitedly to a girl that had luscious blonde hair, styled with two flawless braids that frame her gorgeous face. In fact, all the other Hufflepuff girls seems to be revolving around her.

When we finally reach the Greenhouse One, our teacher is already waiting for us. She's wearing long greenish robes with many moss and soil stains. Her pointy hat is also green, bearing two leaves at the very tip, and it covers most of her bushy curly brown hair. She looks at us with a kind smile and introduces herself as Professor Sprout. We follow her to the inside of the greenhouse, and I am surprised by all the eccentric plants that are pending from the ceiling and the ones that have vines trying to open the windows. The long table is covered by many clay vases and the underneath of the table is cluttered with soil sacks. Everything smells of rain and mud.

The blackboard in the corner indicated that we're going to learn about Puffapods. Professor Sprout finds her place in front of a funny looking plant, with a bark that looks very dry and large pink seedpods pending from the leafless branches.

"This is a Puffapod," she tells us. "It's an extremely useful magical plant. Do you see these big seedpods? They are full of shiny beans that will instantly flower when they meet any solid objects. Today you'll learn how to properly deseed them. I must advise you, however, to not let these seeds fall."

The pink-haired girl seems completely absentminded of what Professor Sprout is telling us, for she's happily poking the pods with the tip of her wand. The professor flashes her a vexed expression, that she doesn't seem to notice.

"Before we start, can anyone tell me what the magical properties of the Puffapods are?" Professor Sprout asks.

Rowan raises her hand and is allowed to answer. "They are known to have antiallergic properties."

"Correct. Five points for Ravenclaw."

Rowan smiles excitedly. Professor Sprout makes another question, this time about the paradox of the Puffapods. Rowan raises her hand again, looking extremely anxious to answer another question. Professor Sprout nods and Rowan's shoulders finally relax.

"Though the beans are known to have antiallergic properties, Trolls are known to be allergic to them."

"Correct again!" the professor says, happily. "Five more points for Ravenclaw."

By the end of the class, Rowan is hopping excitedly, talking about the points she earned, as if I wasn't there. I let her talk, because I am excited about it too. Specially when we return to the Great Hall and spot the great hourglasses in the corner, with Ravenclaw's bottom already filled with many little sapphires. I smile, happy that I am a part of it and that my studies contributed to ten of those tiny gems.

I take another look at the flier for the Frog Choir auditions; Friday morning, at 9:10. I take a note in my calendar, with an emphasis to choose a good song to perform. Rowan gets specially excited, because it implies in my singing various songs for her during our free time walking in the gardens.

In the end of the afternoon, we head to our last lesson of the day: Transfiguration. It is also in the South Tower but located in the first floor. There are plenty of desks lined perfectly in three flawless lines and I share the desk with Rowan. She opens her book and entwines her fingers over the desk, obviously excited to learn more about magic.

The front of the classroom has two steps that lead to the wide space where the teacher's desk is located, as well as a large blackboard and an empty cage next to it. Professor McGonagall is already waiting for us, standing by her desk, looking just as austere and severe as last night, when I first met her.

"I've heard she's quite an impressive witch!" Rowan tells me, excited. "I can't wait to learn from her."

For our classmates' dismay – and Rowan's joy – our first lesson is quite boring. Professor McGonagall teaches us the whole transfiguration alphabet and some very dull formulas. There are plenty of things that can influence our spells, such as ours and the object's weight, our wand power and the intensity of our concentration. Though measuring concentration is not easy, Rowan seems to be having infinite fun with it.

What makes me happy to be sitting in this classroom is that Professor McGonagall makes no biased comments about me or my brother. She seems to be solely focused on the lesson she's presenting and doesn't spare time to put me on trial for my brother's mistakes or my cousin's lack of common sense. I don't like to be judged by just two people, when there are many great witches and wizards in my family that no one seems to remember about when judging me by my family.

Grandma, for example, was a wonderful Hufflepuff. She's extremely skilled in potions and worked for many years in a magical hospital, brewing the potions to help sick people. And my grandfather, who was an extremely clever Ravenclaw, used to work at the Ministry. My parents, who met each other in Hogwarts when they both were sorted into Gryffindor, were talented Quidditch players and helped their house win the House and Quidditch Cup almost year when they were at school. But no. No one seems to remember these things. Everyone is simply judging me by what lies in the surface.

When the lesson ends, I join my colleagues in the long walk to the Great Hall to have dinner. I feel immensely tired and hungry, which come as no surprise when I finally realize that Rowan is not among us and I didn't even notice. I return to where I came from, wondering if she's discussing transfiguration techniques with Professor McGonagall, only to find her being cornered by the same strange Slytherin girl what was staring at me in Potions.

"Admit it!" the girl says in a demanding tone, her voice sharp as a blade.

"I can't!" Rowan shrieks, sounding like a little squirrel.

"Admit that I'm the most powerful witch in the entire school!"

"It's impossible," Rowan says, trying to argue with her. "I've read about a bunch of powerful witches and you don't even make it to the list. You're less powerful than Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch, all the seventh-year girls… You're just a first-year like me."

"I'm nothing like you," the girl hisses.

Though I'm not very prone to engaging in conflicts, I'm terribly tired of being labelled and judged by what I'm not, so I might as well start being judged by what I am: a tired and hungry Ravenclaw that won't take bullies mistreating her friends. As the Sorting Hat said, I'm brave like Gryffindors, so it's about time for me to show this bravery, also using my Ravenclaw wit, so I won't be just a reckless brave.

"Leave her alone!" I say, walking firmly towards them. Rowan looks at me with frightened eyes and I look at the Slytherin girl as if she's less than a worm.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she asks, snobby.

"Athena is one of the best first-year witches. Flitwick said her Lumos charm was the best he's seen in ages," Rowan vomits, probably too nervous to think straight and remember that I don't want to call attention to myself.

"Athena, huh?" the girl says with disdain. "Now I know exactly who you are. You're the Lockhart girl. Your brother lost his mind, disgraced his house, was expelled from school and has been missing ever since. Your place surely is in Ravenclaw after all."

I stuff my chest. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm Merula Snyde," she says as if this is an obvious information. "I'm the best witch of all Hogwarts and, obviously, from Slytherin."

I cross my arms, annoyed by her arrogance. The rumbling in my stomach only makes me even more vexed by her cynical expression and sarcastic smirk. Though she's shorter than me, she looks at me as if she's the queen herself.

"I heard the teachers talking about you during lunch," she continues, disdainful. "I imagine you must think you're better than me. I should end your suffering before you ruin Hogwarts like your brother tried to do."

"I didn't come to Hogwarts to cause trouble," I say, firmly.

She smirks. "I bet you just can't help it."

"You said your name is Merula," I say, changing the course of our discussion. "Like the bird? That's why you're stuffing your feathers like a cocky rooster?"

Rowan giggles and Merula's eyes pierce me, sparkling in all shades of violet under the candle lights. By the angry look on her face, I'm sure she'd love to wrap her hands around my throat. I remain still, arms still crossed, staring at her with boredom.

"Lockhart," Professor Snape's voice startles me, and I turn to look at him. "I knew you would be trouble."

"Merula was bullying my friend, Professor," I tell him, seeing no problem in snitching the awful Slytherin girl standing behind me.

"Off to the Great Hall, then. And be thankful for not being sent to detention," he says coldly, walking away with his robes dancing around his ankles.

Merula looks at me with a snide smirk and goes away, leaving me alone with Rowan in the long corridor. My friend looks at me with glowing eyes and wrap her arms around me.

"Thank you, Athie," she says, embarrassed.

"Are you okay?" I ask, holding her face in between my hands.

She nods. "My first day at Hogwarts and I'm already being bullied. How nice."

"How did you get yourself in this situation?" I ask, concerned.

"I was right behind you and then I remembered I had forgotten my book in the classroom. I came back to retrieve it and just when I was running to catch up with you, Merula found me," she tells me, sadly.

"She said her name is Snyde," I mention. "Is she, by any means, daughter of the Snyde couple that was sent to Azkaban?"

"The same," she says. "Her family is all involved with the Dark Arts."

"Let's not wander around alone," I say. "Though she's still useless, Merlin knows what she'll be capable of when she gets more magical training."

"Do you think she's like her family?" Rowan asks, arching her brows in fear.

"I won't judge her by her family," I say. "I will, however, judge her by what she just did to you."

"She's very intimidating."

"Let's have dinner," I say, hooking my arm in hers. "We'll study a lot to become better than her. She won't stand a chance against us."

Rowan smiles at me while we stroll to the Great Hall, ready to fill our stomachs with delicious roast potatoes, beef, gravy and more. The uneasiness of this overwhelming first day is something that, overtime, will fall into oblivion. I'll prove everyone what a great witch I can be so that, one day, people won't associate me with recklessness, trouble and arrogance.

I sit between Rowan and Emma, a curly brown-haired girl from my year. She's talking excitedly to Nicole, a girl with orangish hair, about how Merula Snyde tried to bully Chloe, a first-year Gryffindor girl, and got kicked in the crotch. Rowan giggles amused to know what she's not the only one that Merula tried to play with.

After dinner, we return to Ravenclaw Tower, where I sit in a desk near the lit fireplace to write a letter to my grandparents. As I sit there, bewitched by the dance of the flames, I tell myself that tomorrow will be better. Each day that passes will be a day that I'll be wiser. I dip my quill in the ink and begin writing the letter. Each word is like a lullaby and by the time I'm finished, my eyes are heavy and tired. I head to the dorm to sleep, longing for some peace and rest.

But instead, all I see is ice and darkness.


A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please, leave a review so I can know if you have any suggestions, comments or critiques.

* Mean, by Taylor Swift.