Chapter XIV

Tom

I walked into class early, wanting to get front row in Potions; Professor Slughorn tended to like people who sat in the front row more.

Other first years walked in as I sat down. "Is this seat taken?" A Slytherin girl asked politely.

"Does it look taken?" I rolled my eyes at her. I was in a fierce mood today, as I had been all week. School had only been in session for a little over two months and I was already getting testy with the other children.

I didn't care about socializing; I focused on the big picture and neglected all of the meaningless details. I had a big agenda planned out for this year. While taking classes, I needed to make myself the ideal student for the teachers. It would be most beneficial to be on their good side. On the side, I will be in the library learning about things that teachers don't use as classroom materials.

Defense against the dark arts was my favorite class, with potions right below it. Professor Merrythought wasn't an extraordinary teacher, but she got the job done. I had fifth hour DADA with Hufflepuff, and everyday it was a new rant about "A rebellious student" (Mishka) and their disrespectful antics. To say the least Mishka had created a reputation amongst student and staff alike. She had made a competition between the houses to lose points, which was completely ridiculous, and had made about every teacher in the school hate her. The only teacher who I haven't heard complain about her was Dumbledore, who actually found the whole predicament amusing.

I didn't miss her, but I wasn't happy she was gone either. It was bittersweet for me; I no longer had her distracting me, but lost someone that could speak to me at the same level. I had a habit of looking after her, as I had demonstrated repeatedly during the last couple of months. Especially during Halloween when she decided to bribe Peeves to possess the moving staircases and hold the entire staff captive in the upstairs corridors during the feast while she "Entertained" the entire student body with Karaoke. I quickly learned why she didn't join the choir, as did everyone else. I in turn, to cover for her, bribed Peeves again to claim it was a 6th year who had originally bribed him.

I was trying very hard to quit the habit, but she always seemed to do such innocent naughty things that I felt that it would be ridiculous for her to be punished for them. The only harm she ever did was torture my eardrums with Muggle Swing.

"Did you hear what Mishka did during Charms class?" I heard Barry, one of the popular students in Slytherin, remark to another.

"Yeah, she let out all of the Quidditch balls in the mid-session! I was actually there, it was hilarious. Grey kicked the bludger through the glass window and I heard they still haven't found the snitch! Hooch is pissed!" I rolled my eyes. I was sick of hearing about her.

I wanted to rule the school, make it mine. I wanted these children to fear me and respect me. But, how could I accomplish this…

After class was finished I waited until all of the others had left and cornered Professor Slughorn in his office.

"Tom, is there something the matter?" He asked

"No sir, I only had a question."

"Oh, well.. spit it out then."

"I was curious if there were any extracurricular activities open for first years who were interested in leadership roles?"

He chuckled, "The only position I know of like that is a prefect, but there's an age restriction. You must at least be a fifth year, with outstanding leadership qualities, and no past offenses. Then of course you must apply in your fourth year summer with multiple references."

I grimaced, "So there are no opportunities for me this year?"

"I'm sorry to say it, Tom, but I'm afraid not. Though, if you are that interested in leadership try climbing the social ladder. You're bound to have an amount of leadership that way."

I thought about it briefly, "How would one begin this climb, Sir?"

"Making friends of course, but with the right people. From what I have heard, if a student were interested in becoming popular the quickest way would be to gain Mishka Gryffindor's favor." -I hung my head low, there was just no escaping her.- "That boy, Grey, weaseled his way into her circle of friends and I've heard that he became automatically popular amongst the entire school. Strange how society picks them… she's not particularly bright, she's failing all of her classes, but somehow it appears she's going to make it big in life… Hmm… maybe I'll invite her to a dinner party one of these evenings."

"Thank you for the information, Sir. Have a good evening."

Mishka

I went to the library for my free period and looked through the stacks of books on the shelves. None of the titles caught my eye, they were all boring and domineering like; 'The vast world of conceptual concepts'.

"Greg, we shouldn't do this in here, what if someone sees us?" I turned towards the voice and saw the same couple that I saw months before. It was the boy that looked like my father and the same girl that looked exactly like me. I got a better look at them this time, and I could tell they were both 6th year Gryffindors.

"Well then maybe we should find somewhere more private." He wrapped his arms around her.

"I can see you," I snapped but it appeared they couldn't hear me. She pushed him off of her and went back at looking at the books.

He sighed, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." She shrugged.

"Did you see another vision?"

She nodded and turned back around to face him, "I don't want to talk about it here though."

The boy whispered, "How about I show you my private little library down stairs, will you tell me then?" He smiled.

"I already told you I wasn't going to let you drag me down into the creepy dungeons, and what if Dippet caught us?"

He grunted, "Screw Dippet, come on it's right next to the caretakers office. Pleaseeeeee?"

She sighed, "Fine." They disappeared soon after and I left the shelves and sat at a table alone.

I didn't understand why the memory of my father was haunting me, but I was really hoping I didn't run into it anymore because it was really tainting the memory of my father into a horny old bastard.

At some point during my free period I had fallen asleep. I was woken up by a tap on the shoulder. I pretended to stay asleep, hoping they would go away. Unfortunately the continued to poke me until I woke up.

"What?" I barked. The librarian glared at me from across the library. I ignored her and proceeded to face the person who had so rudely woken me up. It was an older man; he had on a peculiar orange trench coat that could be seen miles away. I was wondering how he had gotten into the school but then saw the visitors pass hanging around his neck.

"Excuse me, I'm with The Daily Prophet, and was inquiring whether you could be reached for an interview?"

I rubbed the drool off of my chin and took a deep breath to simmer my flaming annoyance. I knew this was bound to happen, just wished it hadn't of come so soon.

"Sure, sit." I suggested to the chair in front of me.

"It's an honor to meet you," -He shook my hand.- "My name is Harold House, I'm Danny's father, do you know him?"

"Oh, yes. He's a cool kid."

"Yes he is, intelligent too. My wife and I are quite proud of him. But, anyway moving on. Tell me, how is school going for you?"

I shrugged, "Pretty good, I haven't found a reason to dislike it."

"So everyone has been treating you well?"

"Of course, the kids have been overly generous with their affection and the staff… has been kind enough."

"Tell us about your time in the Muggle world."

"Um, like what?" I didn't want to say anything that would make them all seem evil, because that wasn't true. I just found them particularly irritating.

"Were you fed well, was your accommodations to your standard, were you harassed?"

"I was fed, I had my own room, and… well, kids - even Muggle kids, are typically juvenile."

"I know you're trying to be brave, but please the public needs to know how you are… emotionally." He made it sound like some kind of disease, like I had been plagued with emotion because I had been sent to live in the Muggle world.

"I really am fine, I can't say I enjoyed my stay, but it wasn't so overwhelming that I feel damaged. The food could be better, the rooms could use a good dusting, and the kids could have been more consoling but it was an orphanage what do you expect?"

"You are very generous, Mishka. I'm sure you've met some reporters who like to over exaggerate and pick out details but I don't do that. My job is to report."

"Thank you for that, I was slightly worried. I have met a few… very rude reporters." I remembered the Muggle press and their excruciatingly brutal questions as I left the Muggle police station.

"There's no need. Let's continue. I know this is a rough topic but could you tell me about the night your father was killed. There are so many rumors floating around that we don't exactly know the full truth."

I strained to remember, I saw the alley, the concrete… the blood. My father lying in front of me dead, and the muggle men. They treated me like I wasn't human, they called me "thing." they didn't care that they just stole my life. I swallowed back the memories and removed my eye contact from Harold. "My father and I were on our way home when three Muggles harassed my father and I for money. We didn't have any Muggle money and my father told them we just wanted to go home. They were all intoxicated and I think just something inside their deranged mind snapped. One of the men pulled out a…"

"A gun."

"Yes, one of those. And shot my father and I stayed next to him the entire night. I didn't really understand at the time that he was… dead."

"Did he have any last words?"

["Don't forget to love the walls, okay? And Be sweet braveheart." ] I still didn't understand what he had meant.

"He said… Be sweet Braveheart. And something else but I think I misheard him."

Harold smiled big, like he had just broke big news. He scribbled down quickly and violent.

"Do you know what that means, Harold?"

He looked up abruptly, as if he had forgotten I were here. "Perhaps, perhaps you had misheard him, or maybe he was delirious from the loss of blood. I can't say for sure."

"You act excited, why?"

"Well Mishka, the magic world has made many names for you. The daughter of magic, the prisoner of passion, the wingless Gryffindor. The media experimented with several variations of your middle name, all ridiculous. You needed your Gryffindor Nickname; like your father and his nickname the talon and your mother the ring. But, finally I have found a name that will stick. Forget Muggle Hollywood, you are Braveheart."

"To be blunt, that sounds idiotic."

"Yes, it does. But, it means a lot. You are the heart of the magic world and as we head off to war against the Muggles it will be that heart that we carry with us all; that passion that unites us all. You are our heart, our sweetheart." He smiled as he turned his phrase. I glared at him bitterly. "…Sorry, I didn't mean to make a pun out of your fathers last words."

"It's fine, do you have any more questions?"

"Only one, I hear you're quite the rebel at school, any comment?"

"Yes, I have been a bit difficult at Hogwarts. I talked to Headmaster Dippet about a few regulations that my peers and I find unfair but he's refused to accommodate me. I'm trying to make things better, even though some say I'm being unconventional."

"And what would you like to say about that?"

I smiled, "I'm not being unconventional I'm creating the new normal."

"That is a bold statement, would you like me to keep that comment in?"

"Yes, and I'm quite confident that I am not overstating myself. Things will change from here on forth."

A/N: We can all thank this lovely (error free and britpicked) chapter to my talented editor/Beta Reader Larentina :)

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