Disclaimer: Last I checked, I'm still not J.K. Rowling nor do I own Harry Potter. Fingers crossed for the next time I check, though.
A/N: Sorry this one's taken me longer than usual. I'm not enjoying this part so much and I keep hitting blocks. Also real life keeps getting in the way, as it tends to but I'm hoping the next few chapters will come a little bit quicker. I'm thinking the next chapter might also be in Nox's second year, but we'll see how it all goes down. In the meantime, here's chapter five!
Also special shout out to my reviewers! You lot are wonderful people, thanks for all of the encouragement!
Under the setting sun, the universe was stained crimson. A breeze dances about, playing at the long grass, enticing each sprout into a waltz. A girl of maybe twelve walks alone, arms swinging as she falls into an uneven pace down the hill. Soon the air will cool and the stars will emerge from their slumber. She sits in the grass and waits.
Nox hasn't been alone in what feels like years. She sighs into the crisp, dusk air, relishing in the sound of solitude. Tendrils of dark curls swam about her head, tangling in the wand behind her ear. Slowly, the sky was painted indigo, a color kindred to her wide, staring eyes. One by one, tiny, twinkling celestials constellate the heavens and the moon climbs above the horizon. For now, she is a peaceful being.
Back at her home, an impressive manor atop a nearby hill, her family is unaware of her slipping out into the falling dusk. Her father, a kind man with dark hair and eyes that would match her own precisely if not for the exhaustion that lined and darkened his lower lids, falls asleep by a crackling fire with the Evening Prophet laid half-read in his lap. Her mother, a patient woman of incomparable, golden beauty and grace, stands before the cast-iron stove, tranquilly stirring a potion in her pewter cauldron. Clockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise… Wisps of curling vapor whirl before her brown eyes while she stares out the window at the glowing moon. It's beautiful tonight.
Upstairs, there is a sister, of golden hair and complexion like their mother. She pours over a book. It is an ancient book of cracking leather and yellowed and dusty pages. Her bright eyes flit expeditiously across the pages, devouring every word with zeal. Her wildly searching eyes halt abruptly, pausing at the sight of one word: Harman.
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July 2018
"No, absolutely not."
Nox Harman was mutinous. She knew she oughtn't have told Lou but she was hoping for aid, not treachery. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours when her mother found out.
It was rapidly approaching dawn when she had snuck back into her home with a resounding creak of the kitchen door. The tiny thing bundled into her jumper stirred as she ran upstairs, skipping steps along the way. Her bedroom door had barely shut behind her when she heard her father groggily mumbling "lumos," as he emerged from her parents' room, no doubt going to fix himself a spot of coffee before preparing for work.
At first, she felt confidently assured that she had it all sorted. Then, of course, it occurred to her that she'd have to hide the creature from her parents for two more months before then having to sneak it into Hogwarts. So, she delegated the knowledge of her new friend to her sister who, crumbling under the pressure of their mother's suspicious gaze, revealed the truth in a blubbering bout of what can only be described as word vomit.
Nox glared at her sister who looked rather regretfully at her lap. "Why the bloody hell not?" she asked, furiously. Slamming her fists onto the table, her plate rattled sending several peas flying onto the table and rolling onto the floor. Max, who was waiting under the table, licked her toes gratefully.
Mrs. Harman crossed her arms. "Because, Nox, it's a wild animal, not a pygmy puff! You've got no idea how to care for it and it could be dangerous and aggressive. And I'll thank you mind you language, young lady."
"He is not an 'it,' he's a he! And he's just a baby. He was all by himself when I found him and looks like he's been badly hurt by something. Mum, I couldn't just leave him to fend for himself." Nox's violet eyes swam with wild determination. Though her brows were furrowed defiantly, the desperation in her voice was clear and cracked her words. She turned to her father with expectation and qualm.
Jack Harman was reliable in many aspects. One of them, in particular, being that he was nearly always willing to offer opportunity. He looked back at his daughter with an air of casual amusement as the slightest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like to at the very least see the little fellow, Matilda. Why don't you go and fetch him, Little One?"
Nox's face split instantly into a massive, toothy grin that touched every inch of her face. She stood from her chair so promptly that it flew backward, tumbling to the floor. She paid it no mind but simply ran to her room, ignoring her mother's indignant protests. When she returned, she carried a box. It was not a particularly large box, nor was it all that small. It was about the size of a shoebox, though by the way it quivered, it was evident that this box did not hold a new pair of trainers. She placed it on the table and lifted the lid. Matilda Harman fell silent and the entire family stared.
Two pointed ears were the first to emerge, then a pair of large, circular, brown eyes, then a wet, black, button-like nose, and then the creature leapt gracefully from the box and sat on the table. He sat and stared back at the on-looking family as though he knew assessment awaited. The tiny red fox's fluffy tail curled delicately around his emaciated frame and he gazed directly at a smiling Mr. Harman.
"Well, he's very cute, isn't he?" Mr. Harman stated, breaking the silence. Tentatively, he reached out and stroked one of the large ears. The young fox responded in kind and leaned into the long-fingered hand.
Upon closer inspection, it was clear the poor creature had indeed had an unfortunate encounter with another animal. He was missing a bit of his right ear, his bushy tail was rather bent and there was an impressive gash in his thin side. These wounds along with his prominently protruding bones read that he desperately required love and nourishment.
Nox stared into her mother's eyes, refusing defeat. She recalled the last time she saw those brown irises take on that shade of frozen earth – an incident involving a catapult for fried, ground meat. "And I've already named him," she declared in a hard tone. "He's Meatball."
After a long handful of moments during which Meatball the fox climbed his way onto Mr. Harman's shoulder and Nox continued her challenging stare at her mother, it was finally too much to bear for Lou who had grown rather tired of staring at her lap. "Oh, come on, Mum. He's perfectly harmless. And it'll be an excellent opportunity for Noxie to learn some responsibility."
Nox beamed at her sister while their mum's face painted itself in shock. But finally, she agreed. "Oh, alright then. But he'll have to see one of those muggle animal doctors, I don't want him infecting Max with anything. And don't expect me to take care of the little beast, Nox!"
In a feat of triumph, Nox cheered loudly and danced about before scooping the creature from her father's shoulder and snuggling him to her face. Her luck seemed endless on that fine night.
She gifted her parents each with a grateful, blown kiss before grasping her sister's hand, tugging her from the table and galloping out the kitchen door, leaving behind her abandoned chair, still turned over, and a plate of uneaten peas and carrots.
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The remainder of the summer is fleeting and humid. Nox Harman runs around as though the world is hers and at times it truly feels like it is. She is followed incessantly by her little red companion who grows bigger and healthier every day. By day he is her shadow and by night he is her comfort.
On one particularly wretched day, the sun beat down with a vengeance. Even the plants seemed to be sweating as the air was thick and laden with crippling humidity. The Harmans hid indoors. Nox lay on her bed dark hair fanned out on her pillow, watching the useless ceiling fan chug away. Meatball, who found a cool patch of floor in the shadow of her untouched bookshelf, flits his crooked tail agitatedly, perking his head up before the quick knock sounded.
"Who goes there?" she called, not moving from the bed.
"Are you clothed? It's Kit!"
"No, Kit. I'm completely starkers."
The door opened anyways. "Well, cover up, then." Kit, looking rather disheveled, strode in and fell back onto the end of Nox's bed. Immediately, Meatball laid claim to his chest. "'Lo, Meatball… Have you got your books and materials for term yet, Nox?"
Nox sat up, looking at her friend and idly petting the fox on his chest. "Yeah, we went last Wednesday. Mum was mental without your mum there to distract her."
"Talk about mental, we've just gotten back! I swear the heat's got my mum off her rocker thinking we ought to go to Diagon Alley in this humidity. I think I've run out of sweat." He punctuated the statement by wiping the back of his hand along the length of his forehead. Nox attempted to push him from her bed but Meatball's look of disapproval stopped her. I've got to wash the damn sheets later, then.
"Cleo owled me yesterday," said Nox. "Apparently Bemis has decided to retire. He wrote Lenny declaring it just last week. Her dad's thrilled."
"I'm certainly not complaining." Professor Bemis, the Transfiguration professor, was a deeply unpleasant man with an equally unpleasant scowl that he always seemed to wear. Where he lacked in kindness, he compensated with a passionate fondness for assignments that frankly made next to no sense. When not in his office, scribbling failing grades onto students' essays in angry, scarlet ink, Bemis was a frequent visitor of Crane where he relished in critiquing his methods. It was no secret that Professor Crane despised the horrible man perhaps more than the students of Hogwarts.
"Here's hoping that his replacement isn't as much of a miserable, old git," Kit added, in a tone of dread.
Nox couldn't fight the same feeling that crept into the back of her head. She knew very well that she could handle any professor that dared take such pleasure in the displeasure of students as Bemis had. But there was something more; something that made goosebumps sprout on her arms, despite the incredible heat. She shrugged it off, diving quickly into zealous discussion of what they expected the year's house quidditch teams would look like.
"Slytherin's going to be better than ever, I expect," said Kit. "They've had nearly the exact same lineup for the past two years. Their form was already excellent last year. And with Potter seeking, they're near unbeatable."
Nox scoffed loudly. "Well once I'm playing for Gryffindor, they won't stand a chance. Who've you seen swing a bat like me on the pitch last year?" She eyed the new broom leaning against the wall by the window. She had done various house-hold chores – the domestic, muggle way, mind you ("No wand-waving, Nox, it's not permitted and it builds character to mop the floor without magic!" Mrs. Harman had said. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mum") since the day she got off the Hogwarts Express for summer holidays. Each and every twig was perfectly clipped and aligned and the shiny handle smelled richly of fine cherry. It had taken a particularly brutal session of de-gnomeing the garden two weeks prior that she was able to scrape together the last few sickles she needed to proudly purchase her Nimbus 3000.
Gryffindor's star beater, John Knightley, had graduated and vacated his spot on the team and Nox fully intended to fill it.
Kit grinned and shook his sandy head. "Fred's planning to try out for Knightley's spot as well, you know. James says he's excellent with a bat." He smirked as her eyes grew dark. If there was one thing Kit Creevey really enjoyed, it was watching Nox get riled up. Among other things.
"Belt it, Kit!" she snarled. "Potter knows nothing about beating. He's too busy tossing a quaffle and trying not to get hit in his fat head to know anything about being behind the bat. Fred may be well enough, but I'm better," Nox declared haughtily.
"Maybe. But I doubt Fred would hesitate to send a bludger at Albus like you would."
She delivered a hard punch to his shoulder. Though Kit was getting better at dodging these earned blows, Nox was too quick for him. He rubbed at his shoulder sorely but laughed all the same. "I don't know what you're talking about. Al and I are mates!"
"Yeah, and I'm a Slytherin. I saw you guys always chatting in Defense when Crane paired you up and I was always stuck with Flint. You always went easy on him. 'Cos you lurve him. Noxie luuuuurves Al!" This time he jumped from her bed in time to avoid her pounce. A clearly agitated Meatball growled, swatting at his ankle and then dashed from the room. Kit ducked Nox here and there about the room until, in a comical moment, he tripped over her vast, Persian rug, and fell slowly, arms windmilling in the air before crashing to the floor in a fit of laughter.
Nox sat crisscrossed on the rug before his crumpled frame, flicked him on the forehead with an index finger and glared. "I never went easy on him. He's very good at those spells."
"Oh please," Kit sighed, flipping onto his back and watching the ceiling fan turn. "You're better. Everyone in our year knows you're best with a wand. Better than Rose, even."
She really hates that, Nox thought. And she didn't know whether to be flattered or irritated so she settled for punching him again. Kit was right, though. Nox had gone easy on Albus Potter from time to time. Her fondness for The Other Potter had stemmed from a particular lesson in which he had commented on her eyes.
Crane had the class dueling for marks instead of a mid-year exam. Al had put up a pretty good fight but it was Nox's firing of impedimenta that sent him to the floor. She immediately offered her hand, helping him easily to his feet.
They had locked eyes for a fraction of a second when he had stated, "You've got cool eyes."
"Yeah, I know, they're an odd shade of blue," she responded, satiated.
He appeared momentarily flummoxed by this, as though this were news to him. "Yeah? Yeah, they are. But I meant the little bits of silver. You know? They're like stars. Very cool." With that, he turned and walked off to talk to Scorpius Malfoy leaving Nox utterly perplexed and grinning bashfully like a complete prat. Before Potions that day, she had nipped off to the loo to examine her eyes. Sure enough, there were flecks of silver floating in pools of violet, and she had never known.
So what? Nox and Albus were mates! They spent every practical Defense lesson working together upon Crane's orders for nearly a fully term. He was a nice bloke. And a right nice change from his sodding idiot of a brother. Granted by the end of her first year, the two had developed a truce of sorts in the name of their mutual friends. James, the demented git, in turn, altered this truce into an opportunity to annoy Nox when Lumos was unavailable, hiding in the library or her common room. The Gryffindors rarely found a quiet moment in their own common room due to this. She expected second year would be much the same.
"Contrary to popular belief, my dear Kit, I have occasionally been known to enjoy the company of intellectual, mild-mannered individuals unlike yourself, you bleeding idiot."
Kit sat up and launched himself at her, quite suddenly. He pinned her arms under his knees and stared down at her threateningly. She didn't struggle but merely looked back, amused. "Admit you love Albus or I'll spit on ya face."
"No. And you won't do it, you haven't got the bollocks!"
"Fine," he said with a sigh. "At least admit you love me! 'Cos I know you do Noxie! Don't test me, Little One, I mean business this time."
"Definitely not." she replied with a snort. "And don't call me that!"
Kit grinned menacingly before unleashing a thick string of spit that dangled precariously closer and closer to her face. "Ew! Kit, no! Gerroff me you prat!" She put up a good fight and the rope of saliva swayed dangerously back and forth. "ALRIGHT FINE! I looooove you Kitten, you're my very best mate now get the bloody hell off of me." With a great shove, Kit was launched backwards.
He smiled victoriously. "Oh, Nox, you flatter me. But I think it's too soon in our relationship for pet names, don't you?"
Nox cast her violet eyes skyward and shook her head, smiling. She then suggested they take her broom out to the field for the sunset. The way the sky was taking on a bubblegum glow through the windows, it was looking promising and as the sun fell, the air cooled and the lingering moisture fell into dewdrops, speckling the grass.
Moments later they were racing downstairs, her in the lead, broom shouldered and headed for the garden. At the Hydrangeas, Nox and Kit climbed onto the unflown Nimbus 3000 and took off toward the dusky, hilly horizon.
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September 1, 2018
The Boy Who Lived, now a man who still lived, watched his eldest son climb into a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, remembering the days when it was him doing so. Dark days, they were. Dangerous times. But all was well now; his children were safe.
He looked to Albus who was hugging Lily goodbye. It was uncanny how much his son resembled himself. Al turned from his tearful sister and smiled once more at Harry before joining James on the train. Through the window of the compartment, he noticed that James was wearing the smirk he'd inherited from his namesakes. With crossed arms, he stood before a small girl with hair as shiny and chalkboard black as Harry and Albus's. Words Harry couldn't hear fell from James's mouth and the girls hands snapped quickly to her hips, much like Ginny did when she was ready for a row. Harry laughed quietly and grasped Lily's small hand. The remaining Potter family stood, waving on the platform, as the Hogwarts express began to move.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Little Harman," said James Potter with a smirk.
Nox glared, her hands rising to her waist, sizing him up. The wand behind her ear grew warm as the temptation of hexing him became stronger. "I know you've nicked it, Potter. What the hell have you done with it?"
He laughed, running a hand through his mess of mahogany hair. "What use have I got for your broom? I've got my own!"
Clearly the menacing approach wasn't working for her. Nox needed to reevaluate her strategy if she intended to get anywhere with the bloke. Mustering up all her twelve year old charm, she glanced up at him through thick, dark lashes. Merlin, he'd grown quite a bit taller over the holiday. She'd only managed to gain an inch at most. So she stood on her tip toes, then rocked sweetly onto her heels, and forward again, like a silly child. "James, pleeeease?"
His smirk fell into a warm smile for a moment then he caught this falter and pasted the smirk back on. "Now that you mention it, perhaps I have seen your broom. But only if you've seen your sister."
She fell flat on her feet with a light thump. "Potter, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that Lou positively detests you," she knocked on his forehead earning a hazel eye roll.
"Which is why I enjoy tormenting her so much."
"Oh please," said Nox. "You can deny it till you're blue in the face but I know you fancy her. Fred's told me."
James's eyes went wide. Scheming expression falling to the floor along with his jaw. "That traitorous –"
Nox burst out laughing, eyes watering up. "Only joking, Potter! I had guessed as much but you've just confirmed it. Now that I know it's true, think you could tell me where you've put my broom? I think if I had it I'd feel less inclined to drop terrifically unsubtle hints to my sister that you fancy her, don't you agree?"
"You're evil," said James, hiding his smile.
"And you're a git," she replied, wiping at her eyes.
For a moment, he thought he hated the girl. But then he realized that she'd bested him. And for that reason, he quite liked her. So he led her to a compartment down the corridor a bit. Inside sat a small cluster of girls talking rather loudly, one of which, judging by her bright, gingery hair, was undoubtedly a Weasley.
The compartment fell silent at James's entrance. The Weasley girl looked up from her Daily Prophet and smiled sweetly at him. "Hi Jamie. Hi Jamie's friend."
"Hey Molly. This is Nox." Molly Weasley only continued to smile sweetly, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses further up her nose. She was an older girl but had a pleasant innocence about her. "Love to chat but it's Lucy I need at the moment."
The lanky young girl with brown hair looked up. She wore glasses as well but instead of having them over her blue eyes, she wore them lopsidedly atop her head. Her short, messy, brown hair was misleading. It was only her anarchic spattering of freckles and long nose on her face that revealed she too was a Weasley. Blimey, they must breed like gnomes. "What d'you want, then?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
"I'll be needing that broom back," said James, looking unusually apprehensive.
The girl – Lucy Weasley – shook her head, sending her glasses askew. "You've given it to me, I'm keeping it!"
James clenched his fists at his side. "Luce, I didn't give it to you. I wanted you to hold it. For purposes of mischief. But I'll be needing it back; it's Nox's broom, see."
Lucy turned on Nox, glaring. "Hard lines. I finds, I keeps."
Nox stared back, amused, saying nothing. She smiled a little but all the same aimed a kick at James's shin.
"Ouch! Bloody hell, Nox! Right, fine, yeah – Lucy! For Merlin's sake, you can't even use a broom at school until next year!"
Merely shrugging, she continued to stare at Nox as though she had just recently drowned a litter of cruppies or something horrible of the like. "I'll hang onto it then."
"You most certainly will not," piped Molly with an exasperated sigh. "Give the girl her broom back."
"Or what?" asked Lucy, obstinately.
"I have been meaning to get in touch with Uncle Perce…" said James.
Scoffing, Lucy turned red. "I'm not scared of Dad!"
"Mum, then. Jamie'll write to Mum, won't you?" Molly helped.
Nox stepped forward, wand practically whispering in her ear for a good jinxing. "Bottom line – Lucy, was it? – I'll be having my broom back. Now, preferably." Lucy looked at her in judgment. James observed silently, attempting to study the enigma that is pre-teen girls, while Nox and Lucy assessed one another. After a bit, they both nodded amicably and smiled at each other. In shock, James stared, all the while thinking how bloody mental girls are. Lucy then grabbed her trunk from the luggage rack and pulled the Nimbus 3000 out of it. There was an undetectable extension charm on the trunk, Nox reckoned. She'd have to get Mum to do one on her trunk at Christmas.
Lucy complimented Nox's broom and the two chatted about quidditch for a bit before James decided he'd like to leave. Nox obliged in joining him, waving good-bye to Lucy and Molly and their less interesting companions. They returned to the compartment where their mates were. They raced down the corridor, flying into the compartment just as Fred, Kit and Chance O'Malley had dove into a large stock of pumpkin pasties, starting an eating contest that Dom and Fiona Finnegan were judging.
"Hiya, Nox!" said Dom, making room on the bench for her. James stole it quickly, leaving Nox to sit next to Fred where crumbs subsequently fell onto her lap as he mumbled a greeting through a mouthful of pasty. Meatball, who had been on the luggage rack, napping atop Nox's trunk, leapt down scavenge to crumbs
"Where'd Rosie go?" asked Nox, scratching at Meatball's ears. Rose had been there before but seemingly had disappeared.
"Oh, to go find Al, I expect," said Dominique, and Nox thought that she might very much like to go find them.
Kit leaned over Fred to cast her a suspicious eye as he chewed. He swallowed what seemed to be a painful mouthful, breathed heavily for a moment then said, "Want to go and fetch them, do you?"
She threw him a scathing glare and shook her head, leaning back against the bench seat and propping her feet up on the parallel seat next to James. "No, I'm perfectly comfortable here."
"Yeah," said Fred as he swallowed his pasties. "She's a lady of refined taste, Kit. She prefers more civilized company." It was then that Fiona declared Chance the winner of the eating contest. He was overjoyed, waving his fists triumphantly in the air as he spewed half-chewed pumpkin pasty at everyone. The prize, it turned out, was the remaining quantity of pasties. How very civilized, indeed. That much was certain when Kit, Fred and Chance began poring over the most recent Quidditch Illustrated on the cover of which Veronica Zephyr, a chaser for the Appleby Arrows, sat on her broom in much more revealing attire than her usual uniform, she waved from the cover and occasionally tossed a quaffle in the air. Charming.
Fiona and Dom began telling tales of their holidays – Dominique spent it in France with her siblings. Meatball had climbed up Nox's arm, wrapping around the back of her neck, his fluffy tail hanging, limp and crooked, down her shoulder. He resumed his napping. She thought she might join him, leaning her head against the window and closing her eyes.
James watched her doze off and decided to do the same.
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Nox
This year, Lenny was wearing robes of mustard yellow. More horrifically, his cap was enchanted to flash different colors every five or so seconds. The whole ensemble was both terrifically brilliant and horribly distracting. As Professor Longbottom placed the sorting hat on each of the first years' heads, I found my sights frequently drifting to the staff table where Lenny's hat flashed away. Lime green! Periwinkle! Lavender!
The first years seemed more nervous than my lot did last year. Nearly all of them had a vague look of nausea with a slightly greenish hue shading their faces. The poor little sods.
Maroon! Orange! Emerald!
Emerald… My eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table. There, next to his usual companion, Scorpius Malfoy, sat Albus. Despite Lenny's hat, he seemed deeply immersed in the sorting ceremony. Scorpius seemed to be about as distracted as I was, staring with blue-gray eyes ahead, all but unseeing. I followed the path of his gaze and realized he was watching Rose who, like her cousin, was unaware of being observed and intently looked onto the sorting and cheered as "Longbottom, Alice," became a Gryffindor. The round-faced little blonde stood from the stool and hugged a positively chuffed Professor Longbottom – who I reckoned was her dad – and sat two seats down from me, next to Kenny who welcomed her warmly with a very weak joke. I turned back to look at Al.
He was looking back this time. I swear his eyes had gotten greener and charcoal hair significantly untidier. He was a sight to behold. And he was a damn sight nearly identical to his father. Give or take twenty or so years in age difference. He smiled at me and waved. I waved back and wondered if I'd have Defense Against the Dark Arts with him again this year.
"Since when are you and my brother chummy?" James Potter asked, leaning over Rose to share his look of confusion with me.
I shrugged. "We were partnered in Defense last year. You know how Crane likes to pair up different houses."
"Yeah, that whole 'house unity' thing is Dad's idea, actually," James said, proudly. "Beat you in every duel, did he?"
Rose, with her annoyed look perfected, glared at him and spoke up before I could summon a response. "She beat him nearly every time actually. Nox, here, happens to be better with a wand than anyone in our year. Of course, her schoolwork itself could use some help, mind you."
"True," I said.
"But really, James, why must you pester all of my friends."
James laughed, ruffling Rose's bushy ginger locks, as was traditional with them. "It's only Little Harman, here, really. So I suppose it is all of your friends. And I reckon she enjoys getting pestered by me."
"Is that so?" I asked, snorting a bit. Godric, I hate when I do that.
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair whose messiness easily rivaled his brother's. "Who wouldn't?"
"Truly," added Fred, who had evidently been listening. "By me as well, yeah, Noxie, love?"
I laughed, blowing a kiss to Fred across the table. "Oh, but of course Fred. Your cousin, not quite as much."
Potter looked entirely defamed at this comment. "Have you looked at me? I am one hundred percent pure – "
" – Git," I interjected. "Pure git."
Offering no further retort, Potter grinned massively and laughed along with Fred, Rosie and Kit. Lately he'd taken to laughing when I took the mickey out of him instead of fighting back and it was something I was terribly conflicting about. On one hand it was nice being mates with Potter. We certainly got on better these days. But on the other hand, I didn't get the same satisfaction of making him furious by besting him when he actually seemed to enjoy our constant back-and-forth.
You'd think the bloke liked when I called him a git or something.
After what felt like ages of sorting later, Gryffindor had gained eight additional members, one of which was Lucy Weasley. Instead of taking her place at the end of the table with the rest of the first years, the freckly, bespectacled brunette walked further down, disregarding her peers completely and taking an assertive stance behind Rose and I. "Gonna sit with you lot if you don't mind budging up." Without question, Rose inched away from James and made room. Lucy sat between her two cousins and took less than five minutes for her, Fred and James to begin arguing energetically over what color they suspected Lenny's hat would turn next.
"Gold!" predicted Fred. "No, brown!" insisted Lucy. "Violet, this time!" James declared.
"Oh shut it, will you?" Rose cried. "He's about to talk!"
Lenny had taken to the podium, hat still flashing wildly. The chattering in the Great Hall slowly fizzled out as he raised his hands, smiling brightly down upon all of us. "Greetings younglings! Hogwarts welcomes you home!" Lenny bounced on his heels, voice high and warm as he spoke. It was rather hard to believe that he would be our new headmaster. "To those returning, I know we will miss our beloved Professor McGonagall, but she sends her highest regards to all of her staff and young pupils and hopes that this year will be your best yet! In her retirement, as well as the retirement of dear Professor Bemis, we have two new staffing additions." He extended a long, yellow cloaked arm to the staff table behind him where Professor Crane sat smiling hugely next to an unfamiliar young woman. "I'm very pleased to introduce Professor Gwendolyn Winslet, who will be taking my place as Charms instructor, come on Gwen, do stand up, won't you dear?"
The young woman stood, smiling brilliantly. Merlin, she was lovely. She was tall, with honey hair and a radiant smile. Though she looked as though she couldn't have been too far past of age, there was a certain joyful confidence about Professor Gwendolyn Winslet that was most intriguing.
"Blimey," breathed Kit. "She's fit." All the other boys within earshot of this comment nodded in agreement, transfixed on the new professor.
Lenny continued smiling, unaffected by her beauty. "Would you like to say something dear?" he asked. She continued smiling, pearly teeth glowing under the light of the floating candles, and shook her head. Professor Crane whispered to her as she sat down and they both laughed a little.
"I'm certain you and the students will become very close!" chirped Lenny.
"Merlin, I hope so," said Fred, earning laughs all down the table.
None the wiser, Professor Lenny continued. "And filling Professor Bemis's Transfiguration post as well as my old post as Head of Ravenclaw House, I'm pleased to introduce you ducklings to Professor Hector Erubus." Once again, Lenny gestured to the staff table. On the far right, a man stood. Like Professor Winslet, he too was tall, though not in elegant, slender grace. He was tall and looming and dark. Everything about the man's features were dark. His skin was olive and his hair raven. He did not smile, he only stared.
I was overcome by a horrible feeling that slithered up my spine, sending each and every hair on end. Something was very, very wrong.
"Would you like to speak to the students, Professor?" Lenny asked. Like Professor Winslet, Erubus shook his dark head and sat back down.
I couldn't tear my eyes off of him.
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Sleeping through breakfast had become a bit of a habit of mine first year. It seemed terrifically likely that the trend would continue through to second year as well. Sure enough, the first day of classes I found myself being aggressively pulled from my delicious slumber by a rather aggravated Rose informing me that I had missed banana pancakes for breakfast and now I'd be sure to miss Charms as well if "you don't get your lazy, skiving arse out of bed this instant, Nox Harman!"
Needless to say, I wasn't off to the best of starts.
Fortunately, I found some solace in the form of Angie, who, it turns out, isn't much of a morning witch herself. She ended up rolling out of bed about the same time as me. In our similar states of exhaustion, we scrambled about the dormitory, occasionally bumping into one another, hastily getting ourselves sorted. Lieutenant Rose had long since given up on hollering at us to hurry up and had left with Cleo to save us ideal seats.
"Merlin, I could go for a coffee," I grumbled as we stampeded down the marble steps on our way to the Charms wing.
Angie laughed light-heartedly. "That would be perfetto!"
The wonderful thing about Evangeline Corsetti was not her animated story-telling and occasional bouts of Italian blended into her sentences. No, it was how unavoidably drawn to her you could be. Sometimes she reminded me an awful lot of Lou in that they were both terrifically amicable. However they differed in that Angie was delightfully cheeky.
It was approaching ten minutes past time class was set to begin when we stumbled through the door. However, I was shocked to find that the classroom was still in a state of uproar as though the bell hadn't rung yet. Professor Winslet, it seemed, wasn't even present yet. I would have guessed that she was lost in the many winding, mysterious corridors of Hogwarts but it was evident that she had been in the classroom before. All of Lenny's old eclectic décor was missing from the walls and was replaced with magnificent, beautiful woven tapestries and curtains depicting the most wonderful spell-casting. They moved, though unlike the paintings in the halls who had their own residents with personality and memories, the witches and wizards of the tapestries remained silent and moved slowly so as to show the exact movements of their wands.
The room was beautiful and filled with life. I was especially pleased to see that Lenny's rather horrible statue of Bartholomew the Barmy wearing a top hat had been replaced by a statue of a beautiful witch with an inquisitively sharp smile.
Angie and I moved in to take our seats at the only available two seats in the room. Though Kit and I generally took a desk together in the back row of nearly every class, he along with just about every second year bloke in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had taken seats in the first and second row. Just about every bloke, of course, excludes Lysander and Lorcan Scamander who sat next to us quietly.
"Alright boys?" I asked. Strange as they are, I'm very fond of the Scamander twins. Lorcan, being in Ravenclaw, I don't know all that well. In fact, we hardly ever spoke unless he chose to share a prize bit of information on nargles or humdingers or various other unseeable creatures that he suspected were dimming up my mind. Though, those rare moments were really special. Lysander, however, was in my house and was slightly less eccentric than his brother. Of course, he too, was a believer in oddities, he was a bit more reserved about them and also was willing to discuss real animals with me as well.
Lysander placed his cheek to his desk and smiled. "Oh yes, it's wonderful to be back. Isn't it Lorcan?"
"Yes," agreed Lorcan, blue, protuberant eyes looking distant as always. "Very wonderful. I suspect they've dusted the cobwebs recently too. Much less wrackspurts, I've noticed."
Angie laughed harshly and shook her head but listened on all the same as Lorcan discussed his month away with his mother and father searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in Iceland over the holiday. I was surprised to find that Lysander had stayed with the Potters instead.
As I was about to inquire about his stay with the famous family, the room fell silent and Professor Winslet was striding to the front of the room with a leather briefcase in hand. She dropped it on her desk and it fell with a thump that didn't match its size. Then she turned on the class and smiled. I think I could hear a drop of drool fall from Kit's mouth to his desk.
"Good morning class!" She said sweetly, in a foreign accent. Dear Godric, she's a bloody American. "I'm Professor Gwendolyn Winslet," as she spoke, she flicked her wand and a stick of chalk flitted across the chalkboard, writing her name in long, looping letters. "You can call me Gwen. I did not attend Hogwarts. I grew up in New England, which is nothing at all like the England you're all familiar with but hides just as much magic. When I was eleven years old, I received my letter from the Salem Institute for Extraordinary Individuals. I finished just over three years ago, traveled for a while and met some very interesting folk including Professor Lenny. So now I'm here and I'm wicked excited about it and I hope you guys are too!" The smile hadn't left her face. I thought it was all very interesting. I had never really thought about there being other schools of magic but lo and behold there was a twenty year-old, enthusiastic, American witch before me prepared to teach Charms at a school she'd never been to before.
Rose's hand shot into the air. "Yes? What's your name?"
"Rose Weasley," she responded impatiently. "Why are you late?"
I snorted. How typical of Rose and how very forward of her to call a brand new teacher out on her tardiness. But Gwen seemed unfazed. "Oh, yeah! Sorry, about that guys!" said Gwen as she turned to her desk and began rummaging in her briefcase. "I didn't intend to be late but I was waiting for something in the post. It was supposed to get here days ago but I guess shipping from the States takes forever even if you're doing it magically." She pulled out a large book. Then another, and another, until she had a sizable stack of them on her desk. With another flick of her wand, they floated from her desk and neatly landed before each student.
Wandless Magic: Using the Power Within
There was a soft muttering about the room. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The woman was mad. Using magic without a wand was certainly feasible. But certainly nothing advanced; not a whole textbook's work.
Rose's hand was waving wildly in the air again.
Gwen smiled softly at her and nodded. "Rose?"
"We've already got textbooks. Practical textbooks, Professor-"
"Gwen, please. I know you have your books already and I fully intend to teach you all of that material. But I thought this could be fun! At Salem, we learned all about ancient magic and the use of it before wands were ever forged. Of course it's very difficult but I think it's important to tap into what we can do as witches and wizards, not just what we can do as wand-wielders." She spoke softly, but her words filled the room in a tangible way. The power of her excitement was contagious and the idea of my own power being beyond the wand behind my ear was deliciously enticing.
"I don't expect you to be incredible at it," she said. "But I do expect you to try. I think you'll find it's very rewarding." She placed her wand neatly on her desk and raised her hands. With her index fingers pointed, she moved her arms in an arch, mumbling an unheard incantation. Professor Gwendolyn Winslet smiled at me before closing her eyes in concentration.
The Monarch butterflies that bloomed from her fingers fluttered around the room until the class ended.
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"She's absolutely brilliant!" I found myself raving, as me and my fellow Gryffindors made our way to the Transfiguration wing.
Everyone but Rose seemed to agree. "You're joking! Wandless magic? How foolish, that's for children who can't control their magic."
"Didn't you hear her? She said it's an ancient form of magic," replied Kit, walking backwards ahead of us.
"Kit," I said. "I'm surprised you were paying attention to anything she was saying rather than trying to guess what color her knickers are."
"Red, I reckon," muttered Swift to Kenny.
Kit shook his head. "She definitely wears white, but that's besides the point. The point is that the Americans learn wandless magic, why shouldn't we, Rose?"
"I think the point is that you boys are swine and Americans can do whatever impractical magic they please but this is Hogwarts not the Salem Institute. They don't teach wandless magic at L'Incantismo, do they Angie?"
Angie shrugged, "Dunno, I don't go there, do I? No, I'm stuck with you lot who guess the color of our professors' knickers and can't twirl spaghetti to save your life."
"Right," said I. "Well, Rosie maybe it's time you broaden your horizons. You'll still have your chance to outsmart everyone."
"Dad says Gwen's brilliant, Rose," added Cleo. "And my dad doesn't really like people that much."
Rose continued to moan and groan in disagreement for the entirety of our journey to Transfiguration. When we arrived outside the classroom, my stomach instantly knotted itself up and Rose's complaints became nothing but background noise. I scowled in unpleasant discomfort, becoming again overcome by a feeling of overall badness that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"Are you alright, Nox?" Lysander asked, placing a slender hand on my shoulder. I nodded silently but couldn't shake the feeling or my grimace. Entering the room, I noticed that most of the Slytherins were already there. As I was walking down the aisle of desks to claim a seat with Kit, a hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist.
Al was staring up at me, emerald eyes full of concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I breathed, the feeling of dread falling away slightly. "Just a bit tired, I suppose."
He didn't look like he believed me. "Want to sit with us?" He asked motioning to himself and Scorpius who stared at me indifferently.
I cast my gaze toward Kit who had taken a seat ahead and was looking back at me with a deviously expectant grin. I sat next to Al, knowing I'd never hear the end of it. Kit's shoulders shook in laughter as he turned toward the front of the room where the professor stood waiting.
"This is Transfiguration," said he in a low voice that carried slowly around the room. He in his dark demeanor and his dark eyes, watched us fall silent under the pressure of his voice. "And I am Professor Erubus. Does anyone have questions?" his eyes fell upon the students who remained silent. "No? Excellent. You will begin, then, by showing me what you can do with the quills on your desk. You may turn it into what you so please but you must turn it into something. You have ten minutes and you will be graded on this." With that he turned and took a seat at his desk, leaning back in the throne-like chair and folding his hands neatly before him. He assessed silently.
"Creepy bloke, yeah?" said Scorpius, waving his wand uselessly at his quill.
Albus did the same. The quill quivered slightly but remained fully feathery and gray. "Yeah. Very odd. But he's better than Bemis, I suppose. Are you sure you're alright, Nox? You look a bit peaky."
"Yeah," I said, dismissing him. I needed to stop being so bloody dramatic. Everything was fine.
At the end of the ten minutes, I hadn't removed my wand from behind my ear and the quill sat untouched on my desk. There was no need to start trying in this class now, even though Professor Bemis was gone. Al had managed to turn his quill into a wooden spoon and Scorpius had turned his into a much larger, pinker quill. Kit seemed to have set his on fire. No, okay, I lied, I set it on fire when he wasn't looking.
"Which one of you is Nox Harman?" Professor Erubus asked, his voice falling over the room in the same odd way. Everyone fell silent and Kit stopped glaring at me long enough to share an extremely confused and concerned look.
A quick shiver ran up my back but I certainly wouldn't be a coward. Something about this man rubbed me the wrong way so I would rub him right back. "I am," I stated proudly, raising my hand.
He strode over from the front of the room, his feet making no noise as they touched the ground. As Erubus got closer, I could begin to make out his face that from a distance had a blurriness to it that made him hard to distinguish. His olive skin was clear, perfect, untouched. And his nose, though long, was perfectly symmetrical. His dark eyes held the same, dark, inhuman symmetry. Though he was undoubtedly tall and handsome, he was dark in every way, casting shadows wherever he stood. I didn't trust him, I didn't like him, and I didn't know why.
"Professor Bemis told me you're a talented young witch Ms. Harman," he said, unsmiling.
I stared back, not allowing myself to cower in the shadow of his dark gaze. "So?" I asked, turning my chin up.
"You have not touched your quill."
"I didn't want to."
Next to me, I could hear Al's breath catch in his throat. My heart beat harder but this time it was the thrill of defiance sending it pounding. "Ms. Harman, I insist you display your abilities."
I shook my head, saying nothing.
This time, he smiled slightly. It was a sharp thing: A grin that could slice throats and shatter glass. Pulling a long wand from his robe pocket, he flourished it quickly, complexly. And the quill became a snake.
It was only a small corn snake that coiled around itself happily, tiny tongue flitting occasionally out of its mouth. Certainly nothing to be afraid of. The rest of the class looked on, intrigued as I picked her up, allowing her to twist around my fingers.
"Blimey, Nox," said Scorpius quietly from next to Al.
"Yes, very sweet," said an unamused Erubus. "Engorgio."
And a massive serpent curled around my wrist, hissing menacingly, delighting in the feel of my rapid pulse beneath its cold scales. The room erupted into panic, Rose and Kit were shouting. Angie cried out in jumbled Italian. I cared not. This man wanted the satisfaction of beating me at what I was best at: pure, infuriating stubbornness. I'd sooner snog Professor Lenny than let this mad man have his victory. So I channeled Mum. Composure. It's just a snake, Nox. He can't let it eat you because then he'll lose his job.
The snake uncoiled itself, slithering gracefully down my arm and onto my desk. I cheered inwardly before I opened my eyes to find it poising to strike. At Al.
I looked to the Professor who watched me expectantly. I hated him then. Al's green eyes were wide in fear and you would have thought the snake was a basilisk, he was so petrified. So I pulled my wand from my ear and flicked it. It was easy. It was so easy that I hated it. Because now there was a quill, unmoving and uninteresting, on the desk before Al, and I had lost. I had never wished I was bad with a wand before that. But then and there I rather thought I'd like to snap the beloved thing in half.
Instead, I replaced it behind my ear, stared at the horrible quill and glared at the dark, devious professor. I picked up my rucksack and stormed from the room, not looking back at Al, Rose, Kit or anyone. They'd know what shady tree they could find me under after class.
From then on, the man never gave me chills or filled me with unknowing fear again. No, it was a white, hot raged that boiled in my stomach when his dark eyes fell on me. And an eagerness to find out why.
A/N: Yes, so Nox is taking me on a strange route right now and I'm just as lost as some of you might be. But she's leading the way and I feel really good about it! I really am eager for some later chapters when her relationships with the Potter boys will develop. Also Lou's been M.I.A. but she's going to play an essential role in everything. The next chapter will touch some quidditch and some rivalries with the Flint family as well as James in his awkward third-year boyness. As always, please feel free to review and critique!
Big love!
Universe