It wasn't a skull-splitting alarm spell that woke me the next morning, but a dream- one that reduced me to a hoarse pale sweat-soaked mess. The silky sheets laid crumpled at my feet, goosebumps lined my stubby legs and knobby knees. Securely masked behind the bed curtains, I reached for the wand sticking painfully into my lower back.
Luckily the wards were still intact, silencing spells and otherwise.
It was the first time in a long while that I had woken up in such a state; not since the cabin in the woods had I even an inkling of a nightmare.
And the anxiety of forgetting something as inherent as my first name would not leave from the forefront of my thoughts, no matter how I tried.
Checking my wristwatch, I realized my alarm, had it still been activated, would not have ruined my hearing for another hour and a half. But I would not find solace in sleep again. Not as spooked as I was at the moment.
I left the confinement of the bed curtains to be assaulted with one of the girls ghastly snores. I could not be sure of who it was, only from the bed it came from, the one closest to me. Thank the awesome lord for silencing spells that work both ways.
My trunk sat heavily in front of the bed. Unlatching the warded lock, I grabbed my lavish uniform and dragonhide shoes, draping my Slytherin robes over the shut trunk for later usage.
After having washed up, I only had forty five minutes till the other girls awoke from the dead. I decided to spend those forty five minutes at the breakfast table, thinking myself clever for eating and disappearing before the other study crazed children graced the dining hall.
Stumbling my way through the dungeons, getting lost once- okay twice- and sneering at an appropriate amount of hastily awoken paintings, I somehow made it to the hall unscathed. A miracle within itself, I assure you.
And to my utter surprise, ten or more students had beaten me to the breaking of the fast. Most were seated together, huddled in blue trimmed robes over tomes and textbooks, muttering about a study lesson months away I am sure.
A purple trimmed robed figure with white blonde hair sat with her back to the others, gnawing on a gold tipped quill whilst gazing at the dawn skies lined with waxing candles. She turned as I closed the hall door. And she smiled. A crazy smile. Great.
I tried to look away, pretend we hadn't seen each other, and move towards my house's empty table. But she yelled, loudly for anytime before seven am.
"Bonjour Alexandria! Come eat with me!" I was about to politely decline when I caught the smirking face of one of the study crazed Ravenclaws. The smugness would have fit in quite well with the pompous attitude of the elitist from the train. I despised elitists, especially smug ones.
And there was not so many people here to witness this show, the harm could not be too much. I would still be an introverted invisible child if I continued to say nothing when around the majority of my peers.
And so I wordlessly sat across from Kore; she started spewing words.
"Are the fuxxywugs not lovely this morning?" Urged on by my confused and annoyed stare she continued. "Tiny iridescent winged sliver creatures that are drawn to the candle flames. They love to eat the melted wax, that's why it never drops. Look." Against my better judgment, I spared the ceiling a glance, and indeed the floating candles never seemed to drip further from the base of the candle, that could just be a continuous banishing charm though.
Skeptically, I looked over at the girl before fixing myself a plate of sausage, eggs, and toast with raspberry marmalade; however, she seemed unfazed, fixating off at some imperceptible object while chewing on purple gunk.
"It's mashed purpura root, good for divining and mental dexterity." She yet again answered my silent questions. I looked down at her plate, besides the purple gunk were other roots and toast, no eggs or meat. "I don't believe in eating conscious beings." She smiled lightly before chewing on a brown root. More kids were beginning to enter the hall, taking seats around Kore and I; still, at least eight feet lingered between Kore and the other wizarding students.
Kore had begun to talk about her creature activism; in between my quickening bites of food I would nod in acknowledgment.
"Kore-" I was preparing to take my leave. She stopped her chatter, but her and I were both cut off by the elitist himself.
"Look ladies, it seems one of our very own brethren has become lost on her first day. Us Slytherins eat over there, away from the… lesser houses." Two girls on either side of him giggled accordingly; this seemed rehearsed. I followed his pointing finger to find more than two dozen faces of my own house looking back at me, snickering. Fuckkkk. I have been singled out. Kore just smiled distantly.
"Hello Leander, would you like some purpura root to clear your head. The house elves made more than enough for me. I could never finish all of this. And the Snorzacks seemed to have gotten in your lovely hair again." Unconsciously the boy ran a hand through his locks before sneering.
"Loopy Liath attempting to befriend the new student, how mundane. Come Alexadria, don't associate with her kind." I looked over at the smiling face of Kore, serene and unbothered by the biting cynicism of her fellow peer.
"Breakfast was nice Alexandria, I reckon you should be going though, Leander's Snorzacks seem to be getting anxious around my purpura root." To be silent, or move against my fellow brethren, oh decisions decisions. Gellert's cold stony gaze came back to haunt me though, this was not the time to assert dominance and maintain pride. Assimilate Alexandra. Assimilate.
Collecting myself accordingly, I stood from my half eaten breakfast and moved towards my fellow Housemates. Leander smiled pompously, ushering me away from the dazed Kore.
"It seems you are not knowledgeable of the happenings here Alexandria, we do not eat at other house tables during meals. It is unseemly and not with the spirit of Slytherin." Abraxas hand seated carefully upon my lower back, the two giggling tarts walked ahead of us, breaking off towards the more crowded part of the Slytherin table.
I began to move towards the end and less populated part of the table, but was assuredly steered astray by the taller elitists firm hand.
"Tom has asked for you to accompany us this fine morning. So we can-" He looked over my person once and glanced back at the ostracized figure of Kore, "show you the ropes, so to speak." Leander's scent wafted into my nose; he smelled, as pompous as he looked, of an expensive men's fragrance as flowery as it was manly. The older students scooted down making room for the two simpering harlots whom had served as cackling arm-candy only seconds earlier.
There as regal as a waxy Grecian Zeus statute sat Gatsby, flanked by two well groomed Slytherin boys whom were in the midst of thoughtfully chewing bacon. Across from Gatsby sat a tanned curly brown haired boy, currently consuming the attention of the black haired tart I earlier had seen on the train.
The button nosed short haired girl from my dorm room smugly judged those around her whilst picking at her porridge. Sadly my observations of snakes in their natural habitats were cut short by my very own arrival. The boy flanking Gatsby, closest to us, made room by forcing all the others beside him to adjust accordingly.
Leander motioned for me to sit next to the boy, and took his own place to Gatsby's left. "Glad you could find your way." My button nosed roommate offered me, spooning some of her cold hardened porridge to her pursed lips. A few spaces away the tutting harlots began their cackles once more.
These passive aggressive assholes slowly were killing my patience, why did the god damn dirty sorting hat think I was an elitist? I would burn that hat, scratch Dippet, the hat would be the first thing to go when Gellert exonerated this school.
These children full of hate were third on my list.
I smiled my sweet shy smile at the girl, making myself a small bowl of porridge so my hands would not be idled amongst these children. Hopefully I could busy myself enough that they would forget I existed.
For a time, surprisingly, they did forget I existed. Sadly, owls began to fly in.
Soon the dining hall was filled with owls, feathers flurried around before dropping and disappearing suddenly. Was that the fuxxywugs's doing too? I doubted it. Kore really was loopy.
Those around me began to chatter excitedly about their class schedules, or as excitedly as was proper for a pureblood. So their chatter was more of hushed expressive talks and smirks deeply embedded in stone facades.
Several minutes later, all the owls had departed through the windows, and people were laughing, complaining and arguing over their newly acquired work loads. I had yet to receive anything, and was starting to become confused by my lack of schedule, when a silvery owl landed in my meager helping of porridge I had been unconsciously spooning.
My Hogwarts robe, considerably more valuable than every other persons-perhaps excluding Leander, was covered in the tiny splotches of porridge and berries. I was frozen still, a bit shocked by the quick assault of my person and steaming hot goo running down the sides of my face.
Many of the Slytherins around me had noticed too, and began snickering softly, Leander was right out grinning, the swooning girls around me quietly cackled. Soon those red and golden garbed Gryfindorks caught on and so on and so forth till the entire student body had gotten a little laugh out of my state, maybe excluding Kore who was probably still fixated on the candle flames.
I magicked away the mess; sadly, the damage was done. The intelligent creature looked up into my eyes before extending its leg. I took the porridge covered package and letter from it's leg, and used my wand to clean them as well.
The ink was a bit smudged on the front of the letter and on the tiny parcel. The owl didn't leave as I assumed it would have. He just stared at me patiently.
I opened the letter, it was my classes. Gellert had stuck me with Potions- no big surprise-, Defense Against the Dark Arts- easy peasy, you know considering-, Transfiguration- ew-, Astronomy- it was only once a week so I'm okay with it-, Art- do stick figures count?-, Divination- it's alright-, and the goddamn History of frieken Magic. I knew he was gonna pull something like this.
After all his "punishments" I could go without history for the rest of my life and be fine. He's a sneaky evil sadistic bastard.
I opened the tiny parcel, in it was a thin gold band and a tiny folded up piece of paper.
Liebe, this is your owl, name him wisely.
This ring is for you to wear all the time. It was your mothers, you should only remove
it if you're in great danger.
Remember what I said.
When the time is right.
Have a fantastic time at school, learn your history well.
-Your uncle
He was teasing me about the damn class. Of course he knew I wouldn't like it. I looked back at the demon owl. It was cleaning itself, preening its gilded golden feathers.
Yes, the owl was a bit pretty, much nicer looking than the other owls that delivered the schedules. But it was still the spawn of evil. I looked into its yellow eyes. It kind of reminded me of an alien.
"Hey you stupid bird." The said bird lifted its beak defiantly. "I'm gonna call you Alien."
The bird squawked. Good, it agreed with its name- I think.
The gold ring was thin, and would have been smooth, if not for the tiny engraved triangle, circle and line that I was now aware to be Gellert's symbol. The ring sparked blue and zapped my right pointer finger after I had put it on.
I took the piece of parchment Gellert used, turned it over and pulled out a muggle pen- I had stolen from the hotel room- from my beaded bag. And I wrote my dear "uncle" a note.
My dear uncle,
The owl is as precious as your class choices, and loves to bathe in porridge.
The ring is nice, love the insignia.
I hope history isn't too hard for me uncle, maybe 'such a girl as myself' should drop
it? Dippet's words, not mine.
-Your grateful niece
Reusing the twine that Gellert had used to tie the parcel to Alien's foot, I secured the note to the porridge cover leg. The bird squaked at me.
"Take that to him." I think the bird may have nodded at me before he took off.
The two Slytherins closest to me looked at the muggle pen, then back at my face, then at the bowl of porridge where my owl had just been bathing. They began to sport two looks of great disapproval and sever judgment. If only they knew.
"Alexandria, it is not Slytherin custom to let your owl relieve itself in your porridge bowl. Nor, write with such a muggle item. You are pure of blood are you not?" Slowly I regarded my muggle item, and transfigured it into a blonde feathered quill.
"Of course." I meekly answered.
"She would not be here otherwise, would she Leander?" It was Gatsby's voice that spoke up this time. All those listening tutted in agreement.
"I am almost sure you are done with your porridge. Are you not?" I looked past Leander at Gatsby once more. And nodded.
"Good. Then I believe we have classes to attend, do we not?" Leander nodded hastily in agreement, wordlessly submitting before Gatsby.
"Of course my lord." The lot that had began to rise, froze.
"My lord?" The pudgy nosed girl sweetly asked.
"Merely a jest." Leander replied laughing. Everyone laughed and chuckled with him. A jest...
I walked bellow Gatsby's right elbow, forgotten in the chaos of first day chatter and banter. We had the same class, as he gracefully had pointed out. So did most of his crew.
Back in the dungeons, from where I had once fled, we stood and waited for the professor's appearance. We reached the class with ample time to waste. And unlike the other Slytherins I had been in contact with, Gatsby made it his business to hold court with every adoring student be they Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Every inquisitive question about his summer break was met with lacking yet seemingly heartfelt replies.
Slughorn waddled from within the potions classroom and out to greet his first class.
"Welcome to six years potions! My dear students please enter!" I abandoned Leander and rushed in, hidden amongst the middle of the crowd. Still, that did not stop Professor Slughorn from singling me out.
"And we have Miss Marguerite, from the Marguerites of France, how are you fairing my dear? All is in order? Good, good." He patted me warmly on the back, moving on to his next victim. But his low had been catered and people whispered around me.
"Mister Riddle! A pleasure I am sure, so glad to see you've fared well this summer, and that you're a prefect as expected! Simply marvelous, I see good things my boy. All good things." Somehow I found myself smiling at the exuberant fawning, hoping Riddle to be as uncomfortable as I was under Slughorns' preening gaze.
"My summer was heated, yet somehow filled with pleasantries. How went your summer Professor?" Slughorn chortled before rambling off some exuberant wastes of time. Looking around the room, I realized my mistake too late; by eavesdropping, I somehow conveniently missed the part about finding a seat.
Three seats remained open, one next to a acne ridden greasy Ravenclaw whom currently was blowing a rocket boogie, or two open seats at the front of the class. I caught Leander's eye for a second, he only raised a challenging brow before conferring with his partner.
Deciding solitude at the front was better than braving mouth breathing at the back of the class, I chose the two empty seats at the front. Of course, it was the wrong choice.
Another Slytherin dashed into the room, reluctantly sitting next to the Ravenclaw of questionable hygiene. Gatsby and Slughorn ended their talk, and Gatsby walked towards my table, the very last spot available.
Quietly, with a smile, he addressed my introverted person.
"If you could kindly move over one seat that would be ideal Alexandria." There we went with that "ia" bullshit again. I stopped myself from correcting him, and failed to provide an adequate answer to his request.
"You are currently in my seat." Right. I was sitting in Gatsby's seat. Not my best moment, specially when I still couldn't figure him out, and Legimency would certainly not be considered blending in. Jerkily, my head nodded and my bum moved from one seat to the next quickly.
He scooted over my book bag, setting down his stuff in its place. I didn't even squeak out a sorry, just solitarily looked at the blackboard on which Slughorn was writing.
"We'll start off with an easy, welcome back, potion. Brewing a healing potion of your choice. You will be graded on effort. You have til the end of class. You may begin." Unlike most of the more anxious Ravenclaws, I did not make a mad dash to the potion supplies; instead, I set up my cauldron first, laid out my equipment and struggled to pick a mediocre potion that wouldn't distinguish me from the rest.
A weak pepper-up potion? Sounds splendid enough to get an E!
Gatsby already had his ingredients by this point; I was thinking slowly. Oh well. Even a more accurate E!
I walked over with two other students, and picked threw the leftovers, from the lack of moore root it seemed more than a few were trying blood replenishing potions, a safe yet reliable O, if done right.
Back at my station I unevenly chopped my sorous roots, and mishandled my eye of newt on purpose. After adding my barely grounded alder root, I evenly stirred my potion counter clockwise and peeked over at Gatsby creation.
Simply beautiful, ravishing actually. That is, the potion I'm talking about asuredly. A shimmering violet liquid graced his cauldron putting even the Ravenclaws to shame. Even on a good day my brews with Gellert dulled in comparison. He could have stopped his potion at that moment and guaranteed himself an O.
If this had been like the dingy public school I went to he'd have an O++.
Alas, in the midst of my awe, I lost count of my stirs. I didn't really panic at first because usually if you are one stir off it only means a slightly altered version of your intended brew.
That is, if you were only one or two counts off. I had been ten or so.
You don't realize these mistakes until they are splattered all over your clothes, and onto your station partners' robes. I stood for several moments, shocked by the orange gobby substance seeping into my expensive uniform. Would Gellert kill me? Probably. Would I remain a quiet blip in the background? Probably not. Would Gatbsy smile nicely and say it was alright? Maybe. Would it actually be alright? No.
Having these self pitying thoughts in my head, I seemed to miss Gatsby whipping out his wand and putting a stasis charm on his potion, before removing his outer robes, contaminated by an orange liquid that was eating through his fabric.
Yes, I had created a highly corrosive acid. No, I had not reacted to that fact yet.
Gatsby acted for me, cutting away my own robe with a spell and them my sad silk collared shirt as well; I was left in a thin shift and a woolen skirt, my dragonhide shoes undamaged by the gunky acid.
As I watched the orange gunk slide off the tips of my shoes, I realized a couple of things. I had just blown up a cauldron- the second in my life to be exact, we'll save my first experience for a later more appropriate moment. I had just created an acid. I was almost top naked in front of my peers. Gatsby had just saved my life. And I had just sprayed Gatsby with my failure.
I ended up in the hospital wing. Inevitably so.
A tiny piece of orange gunk had landed on my neck, the closest I had ever come to seeing my own bones might I say. I had pleaded mercilessly to not warn my uncle about this incident. Probably unsuccessfully.
My face and hair were never so happy I was averagely tall today. Sadly, one set of my robes were trashed, and I lost a good silk shirt in the battlefield this morning.
Luckily Gatsby wasn't injured; sadly, he was currently here talking to the Headmaster about a 'girl such as myself'. I mean I think I ruined a pair of his robes too. I wasn't too sure.
Everything got kind of hazy after the searing pain in my neck of having my skin eaten away at was registered in my slow brain. I remember screaming. I remember agony.
I also remember my body relaxing because somehow I've dealt with worse.
I can't seem to remember what that worse circumstance was.
Gatsby came to my bedside after his conversation with Dumb Dippet ended.
"I'm so glad that you are okay Alexandria. You seemed to be in a great deal of pain." He didn't appear fazed at all, despite almost having his face melted to the bone by orange goo.
"Sorry." A one worded reply, if I could still hang on to the introverted personality I would.
"I'm not the one who was hurt." His smile gleamed brightly against the sunshine floating through the windows.
"Your robes?" A glimmer of emotion trickled through his eyes.
"Easily replaced." His jaw clenched.
"Potion?" His fingers tightened.
"Currently untouched under a stasis charm." His forehead had a small tick. He was frustrated, maybe even angry.
"I'm sorry." He smiled and even more serene smile.
"It's surely fine Alexandria, just rest. We will, at dinner, see you." And then Gatsby patted my hand, and a painful electric spark went up my arm. Angry indeed he was.
That was no fool's magic, he was intentional with that spark. I was no longer invisible, that's for sure.
I fell into a fitful sleep, bothered by Gatsby's conflicting personalities. And that painful shot of energy. At dinner, Harrison let me leave, telling me to be more careful and attentive in class before giving me more dressings for my minor neck wound.
In a hand-me-dwon woolen chemise, I was allowed to participate in the evening meal. When I walked into the full hall, an innumerable amount of eyes greeted me, most turned back to the steaming piles of food, excluding those who earlier witnessed my embarrassment.
Quietly, I moved towards the end of the Slytherin table, allowing the wafting sweet potatoes and shepard's pie to grace my nose. It had been a long day.
I wasn't left alone for long.
I tilted my head down, making my way towards the end of my house's table. I wasn't exactly famished, especially when faced with the orange gobby looking sweet potatoes. Growing a bit green in pallor, I delicately avoided the sweet smelling portions of orange root, and began to attempt to make myself a plate.
A weighted hand on my shoulder stopped me. Internally groaning, I turned around to timidly acknowledge the owner of the hand.
"Alexandria," The calming lyrical tones of Gatsby's voice broke my peace, "did I not say to join us for dinner?"
Actually he didn't. He said 'See you at dinner, we will' or some Shakesperian alternative to that. But I was going to correct him, splitting hairs and all- pohtatoe potatoe.
I actually didn't really want to sit with them; the glares I was receiving from some of the younger girls told me they wouldn't mind killing to take my spot. And so I pretended to be like all the rest of the girls 'such as myself' and allowed myself to be coaxed from the bench and redirected to the more populous area.
"And here comes the potions mistress herself, Miss Maurguerite!" Cue the giggling buffoons. Leander was holding court again with the nefarious harlots. Whose bosoms, may I say, were looking obnoxiously suffocated in their current tightly tailored garb.
"Ladies." I nodded specifically at Leander before scooting into the open space Gatbsy gestured at. Leander spouted inches away from making a retort when his eyes settled on the overbearing figure behind me and he darted his icy eyes over to one of his cackling harlots.
Gatsby's hand left my lower back for a second whilst he himself sat down next to me. His fingers then once again laid against the woolen borrowed fabric as he sent intentional small jolts of energy up my spine.
My fingers honestly shook, the serving laddle wobbling profusely, showing what I dared not throw on my face; I was fearful of this boy. His magic was unlike any other I had come in contact, even Gellert's paled in comparison to the suffocating feeling Gatsby's gave me.
I spared a look in his direction, but he was actively jesting with the snubbed Leander. Not even a glance was spared my way.
And so I once again picked up the soup ladle and served myself half a scoop. The aromas of minestrone did nothing to calm my palpitating heart. This boy, with his painful beauty and disparaging sparking magic, he was angry- at me.