AN: Holy shit! This chapter is the longest one so far!
Chapter 34: The dream part III
"After dinner, come sit with me." Merlin's strong voice was crystal clear in my mind, just as it was in reality. I had been trailing behind the very distinct backs of my dorm mates, leaving the common room to get breakfast on the very first day of class. How I could recall that particular piece of information, I couldn't even begin to fandom. Not when my head turned back to the painting that protected the entrance to Slytherin House. Merlin had taken the chance to stop me as soon as I bid him a good morning, and to my luck the girls didn't seem to notice right away. We they did, they stopped to wait for me, as I faced at the picture of my ancestor, who sat grim and imposing. "We have much to discuss."
Nothing in the form of an answer came out of my mouth, but I guess I did agree to it. I did remember meeting with him later that night.
My dorm mates, Hestia in particular, questioned my politeness toward an old piece of decoration. There was no way I could have told her the truth, even if I wanted, but I didn't manage to give a straight excuse. They accepted my apparently convincing explanation and said nothing more of it.
Of course if they knew that Merlin's portrait had been moved to the Slytherin entrance because of me, they wouldn't have ever liked me even a little. Apparently, for I only heard tales, Slytherin House didn't have a painting as doorkeeper. For years it had only been a sliding wall that protected us from intruders. But because of my arrival, Dumbledore had moved Merlin's portrait to the entrance of the Slytherin dorm because Merlin had asked for it. Though he was known to the rest of the school as the Old Wizard, and only a handful in the world knew the truth, he had never to me seemed perturbed by the lack of reverence given to him. I always thought that he didn't care about that. Or that since he was paint, canvas and wood, then he wasn't able to care, most times. As to his reasons to moving, of all places to be the door of my house, I had a theory. I didn't like the fact that the painting had assumed I would be placed in Slytherin, and had been right, and that fuelled my theory of his presence there to watch over me. He wanted to keep an eye on me and remind me of his presence daily. As the door into Slytherin, I had to face and talk to him at least once a day, and that way make sure I didn't ignore him if he was in some random hallway.
I sat down, and it didn't take me long to figure out where I was. A cauldron strategically placed in front of me was clear evidence. Next to me, with a concentrated side glace, was Gemma. She had insisted on me being her Potions' partner when Snape had refused to be so. As the best in our class and Prefect he had been expected to take me under his wing, but he didn't. I had to settle with Gemma, who I was relieved to have by my side that first day of class. I watched her organize her side of the worktable. "I know is a huge castle," She said for I had commented on how far the Great Hall was from Potions class, and how I was lucky to have her and the rest of the girls to guide me. "But you'll get use to it in a couple days. Once you memorize your schedule and a planned route, you'll learn about the rest."
"Welcome to Potions class," Slughorn said to the classroom once it settled after his entrance. Going full into a speech about how we were in N.E.W.T classes now, and difficult work loomed in the close horizon, the professor looked at each of his favourite students with pride. His eyes went from Lily, sitting at front on the other side of the room, to Severus in front of me. And then finally at me.
He knew my secret. Dumbledore told him as soon as I had been placed in Slytherin, and his eyes shone brightly with the potential of eyes had already been following him, and I saw what I always saw in my favourite professor, good intention. Even in my memory is a pleasant thing to see. Sure, I knew he intentionally wanted to get in my good graces, so to be close to me whenever in my future I reaped the success of whatever life I decided to live. Knowing was better than being oblivious, and that I could always see Slughorn's true intentions toward me was the main reason I liked and respected him so much.
After fomenting hard studying and revising, he went into a subject in which he seemed more fascinated with. The Potions Master dived in full to what he knew best, and after a spellbound introduction to his class, insightful and a bit more dramatic than it should be, he gave us an assignment with a prize to be won by whoever was best in the class brewing.
Everybody was visually excited; a look back was enough for me to see. Even James and Sirius, who on normal days lounged at the back rows acting like they didn't have some of the best marks in the class, looked at Slughorn with intensity. Surely they could raise hell with the prize being offered. The challenge was to successfully brew Draught of Living Dead. The best attempt would be rewarded with a tiny bottle of Felix Felicis.
Slughorn gave permission to start, there was scraping around, and barely two seconds later trouble reared its ugly head.
It had been trouble for me in the past, and I got to relive it once more in the dream, only that this time I could enjoy it for what it was. It started as a whimper for me, as my hands went to grab at my cauldron to position it better over the fire under it. Slow and seemingly out of nowhere, the scream began to get louder. Then there was a wave of screams, they erupted into the room in a crescendo loud enough to make you want to cover your ears, and it wasn't until a moment later that I realized the shrill sound was coming out of my caldron. I stared at it transfixed. I hadn't thrown anything into it yet, it wasn't burning, nor could I see a mouth on it. A look to Gemma showed me it wasn't my personal anomaly. Hers was screaming too, and she stared at it like I can only imagine I had been staring at mine.
Startled, Gemma took a step away from her spot next to the table, looking over at Snape who held a knife in his hand. Caught in the attempt to make the Draught, his cauldron was screaming too. All the Slytherin caldrons were screaming as a matter of fact. My stare went to Gemma and my other dorm mates trying to look for answers, but finding them as confused as I was. The other students, Lily in particular looked over at us like she didn't understand, her own confection of the potion ignored to assess the situation. Such a beautiful girl, not even petty house rivalry would stop her from doing what was right. I saw Snape glare back to the back row of Gryffindors as he tightly held on to his knife. Following his gaze I glanced at a couple of certain boys who seemed too preoccupied with making their own potions.
Remus was better at hiding it, which most times had me questioning if he had anything to do Marauder pranks. Silent, afflicted Remus Lupin always had a say at what his friends did, and enjoyed it as much as them, even when he got stuck cleaning up their messes. Opposite to him, dear Peter couldn't keep his face from turning purple, as he desperately tried not to react to what had happened. James sitting behind Peter, along with Sirius didn't care that there were broad smirks on their faces as they stirred their silent cauldrons. Ever proud of their handy work, everybody knew it was then; surely there was no use in hiding it.I looked back at my own problem, my past self waiting for someone else to fix things, while I imagined myself laughing. I couldn't do it in real life, which was all there was left for me to do. In all honesty, if I had to relive my horrid life, I figured I might as well enjoy the trouble my friends had caused over my House. I had hated it in the moment, and I didn't particularly like the idea of falling into one in the future, but they were hilarious. It almost made me understand why they did it.
"Take ten points to Slytherin, Miss Carrow." Slughorn said to Gemma when she calmed the situation with a Silencing Charm.
It worked for the most part. We could no longer hear the screams of the cauldrons, though it was clear that it wasn't as far as the Marauder prank went. Wemanaged to get to work, but there was the problem that the caldrons every now and then threw up the ingredients we put in. There was a mess of Infusion of Wormwood on my desk by the time Professor Slughorn called the class to an end.
To everybody's disappointment, no one got close to makingDraught of Living Dead. The potion was nasty tricky to make, the cauldrons made everything a mess and even the instructions made no sense. Slughorn made a speech about everyone failing to produce a sufficiently close potion, and took away the Felix Felicis. There was palatable annoyance in the room as we cleaned our work area at the end of the that was done, I left with Mafalda, Gertrude and Hestia. Gemma stayed back with Severus, determined to find a way to break the charm placed on our cauldrons.
"I got Wormwoodall over my skirt." I said trying to push the muck away from the fabric with a delicate looking swipe of the hand once outside the classroom. Back then and when the girls were around me, I made a point of appearing as educated and delicate as they did. It wasn't that much of a hassle, and I found that I liked being that way. Still do.
"Allow me to clean it," Mafalda said pulling out her wand as she walked next to me. "I know the perfect spell."
She uttered the spell and the slime slid right off my clothes.
"Do me as well, Mafalda. I don't want Rabastan to see me like this." Gertrude begged, holding on her robes to be cleaned after she stopped walking. We all halted to let Mafalda get to work. Gertrude had as much ill luck with the Infusion of Wormwood as I did, especially when the potion she was making turned purple and the cauldron began to spit it out.
Hestia rooted herself next to me; her sharp face features capable of cutting if that were even possible. "We should have expected it. They've been doing it since second year. A prank every first day of class. Next year I'm skipping."
"You will do no such thing, Hestia." Mafalda said. Her poise was so perfect as I watched her tuck her wand away, that even now I was slightly jealous of it. I remembered just how much I enjoyed watching her, the most elegant of my dorm mates and how I tried to mimic her. For the most part, I learned fast. Not once was I question or ridiculed for my lack of training in elegance and all that shit. I came natural to me, to stand, sit and behave like a pure-blooded young witch from a rich family. To think that I mostly copied it off Mafalda Bole on those first days of school.
"So, it was the Gryffindor boys? What was it that you called them Mafalda?" I asked, my voice as alien as always in the dream. "A plague to the integrity of this school?"
Gertrude hid a smile behind her hand, blushing at her own reaction. At her side Mafalda rolled her eyes, whether it was because that was her reaction or that she didn't particularly liked that I had voiced that out, I couldn't tell. She did, however seemed completely alright with my girls had gone full on gossip mode that first night in the castle, and the matter of the Marauders was a topic that they didn't take long to touch. Various negative comments arouse, along with the one I said out loud. I had heard the four girls talk about the four boys with upmost attention, believing their words to be the course I didn't think that anymore. The Gryffindor boys were my friends; I loved the four to bits.
"They're Gryffindors, all of them are a plague." Hestia was unapologetic with her expression, not that it mattered to me back then. Her eyes bulged out for a second, and suddenly she took a long step to stand next to me. Pulling my arm, and twisting me around, she made me face the direction of Slughorn's classroom. Her lock had me pressed against her too close for comfort as she tried to whisper into my ear with a voice that never lowered. "Oh, here they come. Look Faraday."
My eyes went to the boys, who like us came from Potions. They seemed particularly pleased with themselves as they talked among each other, knowing that their prank had been successful. Especially Peter, who appeared red face and rushed with a smile to tell James something. "The two up front are Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but they aren't of consequence. Boring gits if you ask me."
"I think you are right." I said as my eyes lingered on them. I mentally disliked myself for a moment. How dare I agree to that about Remus and Peter! They were the sweetest guys I had ever met, and I was sure neither of them would ever treat me bad or talk horrid about me the way I had allowed Hestia to talk about them then.
"You see that one? The handsome one with the long hair?" Her voiced quickened against my ear, and though I couldn't see her face, I could imagine the exact level of mischief she held in them as she was a step away from pointing. Lucky for me at the time she didn't. I'm sure we already looked ridiculous just standing against the wall of the hallway, pretending not to be looking at boys passing. My head did a subtle motion, which I took as nodding. "That's Sirius Black. Gemma fancies him."
There was a pulling to the side, and both Hestia and I turned. Gertrude had grabbed into her friend's arm, eyes shining with concerned shock, as she retaliated to Hestia's declaration. "That's a secret!"
That didn't stop Hestia from going on revealing other peoples' secrets. She went on, ignoring Gertrude with a shake and concentrating on gossiping to me. Ever interested in any sort of information, I edged toward her, waiting to be told. Hestia had always been a great source of school knowledge to me. When the other girls like to explain mostly matters about classes, Hestia didn't shy away from more fascinating subjects, like school drama, wizard culture titbits I didn't know and girl gossip, of course. "And the one next to him is James Potter, Mafalda's—"
"Hestia Bletchley, I will hex you if you finish that." My eyes flew to Mafalda, whose glare was set in my direction, though I was sure it was meant mostly for Hestia. The sternness in her voice was evident, and even when I shared a smug half smile with Hestia, we did as she bid. Turning to face her, the movement was done at the right time, for that was when the Marauders were to walk behind us.
I wanted to look at them, I missed them terribly and any glance of my past self that they appeared was like water to a thirsty person.
There was the fact that I deliberately giving them my back along with Hestia, and that didn't sit too well with me. They were my friends now; I would never do that to a friend. Standing forming a circle with my Slytherin classmates, they stood with secretive smiles, except Mafalda as the boy stomped past us. I knew I must have sported one too.
If the dream taught me anything about myself was that I was abysmally predictable.
When that moment ended, I turned to look at the backs of the Marauders as they went. Their infamousness around school had been made evident to me as early as possible in Hogwarts, Hestia and the other girls had made sure. And looking at them, I had to admit that they mostly lived up to their renowned history. But I hadn't thought that about them in the past. They were just obnoxious Gryffindors that made the life of Slytherins hard on a regular basis. The boys didn't seem like a big deal to me then, and I couldn't blame myself for thinking that. I mean, how could they when Lorcan Mulciber existed?
"It'll get better," I heard him say. The scene had changed and my dorm mates where nowhere in sight. Though my eyes were slightly down casted, and I had a hand rubbing at them, it didn't take me long to figure out where I was. I believe it was the second floor Study Hall. The fact that it was empty didn't surprise me; it was still first days of school for other students to begin to take their work seriously, even if my year was in N.E.W.T.s. My eyes lingered on my hand, shaking slightly and spotted with dried ink as it was held by Lorcan's. He was leading me out of the hall with kind sturdiness and patience, something that gave me mental nausea.
Carrying what I could recognize as my book bag on his shoulder, Lorcan leaned toward me, his free hand coming up to brush my face with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief. In all honesty, he probably found me crying in the Study Hall, eyes pouring as I devoured book after book trying to keep up with the demand of the classes I had. It was a natural occurrence to me during my first weeks in Hogwarts.
I had probably cried in every room of school I tried to get homework done in.
"Before you know it," He went on passing the handkerchief over my cheeks with added sweetness that I hated I had to witness. My heart on that first instance had beaten in my chest painfully, screaming my premature love for him. I couldn't feel it now, but the dramatic rise and fall of my chest was enough of a sign. "You'll be handing in all your work with opulent confidence, getting the highest marks in the whole class."
My voice was sickly disgusting, chiming brightly with the prospect of his support. I would had done anything for his attention back then, even allow myself to sound like an idiot. Though in retrospect, I don't think I would had been able to notice my own idiocy. I only know now because I've suffered experience. "You really think so?"
Green eyes blazing with the intensity of a fire spell, he nodded sweetly. As my own eyes got tangled with his, I couldn't help feel sorry for myself. I don't know how long had passed since our duel after the full moon, but my feelings had hardly changed. I knew I wouldn't ever be able to forgive him, however if I had connection with my body, I was sure my heart would be beating frantically inside me as my skin bathed in chills. Staring at him for what seemed like hours, or what past me would had liked to be hours, I knew he would always hold a piece of my heart in his claws. There was no denying it or escaping it. And it honestly made me wonder if I would be like that with every guy I would eventually fancy or if it was an exception with Lorcan Mulciber. Having him as an ex was devastating, I couldn't imagine having more. How in the hell did Sirius manage to deal with more than five exes in Hogwarts when I couldn't even with one? I guess all that Gryffindor bravery and boldness helped.
Pressing the used handkerchief into a pocket of his trousers, Lorcan gave me his prettiest smile, edging toward me, and standing closer than one would think he needed to me. With the intentions we both had for the other back then, neither minded at the proximity, it seemed. "Listen," He said with a flutter of his eyelashes that appeared to take ten minutes to occur. "I don't know if the girls have said anything, but were hosting the first meeting of the Duelling Society tomorrow night. We normally meet once a week during the school year. And I would much like you to go with me, that way I can teach you the protocol and many other trifle details."
Again my voice was sickening, horrible to have to hear it and know that it came from my own mouth. "I would like that very much!"
What happened afterwards, I wasn't able to see. My vision blurred and shifted taking me away from Lorcan. Placed across from Merlin's portrait, standing in my normal spot against the adjacent wall, I had my harms crossed. I had no way of knowing how long I had been there staring at the picture of my ancestor, but as far as I could tell it wasn't our first private talk. No, that one had been on my very first day of school, and at no point that time had he asked me what he asked now.
"How are your studies?"
My eyes took in every detail of him, from the bottom frame of him to the pointy hat on his head. I could see it clearly in the dream, as clear as it had been in real life since the moment I laid eyes on the ancient painting. Merlin held an uncanny resemblance to Dumbledore. Or maybe it was the other way around, but either way I hated had the same broken hooked nose, the pasty skin and the long white beard. There was also the way they spoke, how they talked and talked, the mannerisms and the facial expressions that sometimes had me wondering if there was a blood tie somewhere between the two. Worst of all, Merlin's portrait looked at me like Dumbledore. That bothered me more than the physical similarity. It was the thing I hated the most, to be looked at as if they were trying to get into my head as see every thought I wanted to keep for myself; how they twisted and turned all my actions and words as if dissecting them. It was Dumbledore's scholarly look. A look I knew to be the one of a person studying me like an antique tome. I was research to him, and Merlin looked at me the same way.
"They are hard, but I'll manage them." I appeared to be polite for the sake of being respectful to the memory of someone renowned. As much mild disgust as I secretly held toward the painting sometimes, it was still Merlin, and that was a matter that made me swell with Slytherin pride.
Merlin appeared to take my words in stride. He always promoted my learning. "Do not neglect your work. I have been in this school for many centuries, and I have found neglectful students to be shameful. Hogwarts has ever been a place of academically grandeur, from my time to now. It is regretful that great wizards and witches have their progress dampened by lacking students. Rise to the pinnacle of your greatness Morgana, and—"
I interrupted him. He wasn't too please at that, probably didn't happen much to him, but I couldn't keep quiet at that. I did not enjoy being called by another name, not when I was proud of mine, not when it was he who was talking to me. There was a stronger dislike in me that came from being called Morgana, one that I could never pinpoint exactly, but it always bothered me. It came from deep within me, with no reason and with no tolerance. "Faraday. My name is Faraday, not Morgana. Have you forgotten, grandfather?"
Realization dawned on his face in a way that I could instantly tell, and his face closed over. I didn't know if it was embarrassment, but I felt uncomfortable with causing his expression. I couldn't remember what I felt then in the past, however it was probably along the lines of not caring. My feelings toward Merlin's picture had changed, and though it wasn't prudent, considering he was just paint and canvas there was no escaping my closeness with him. He looked away, trying to regain himself, even going as far taking off and putting back on his pointy hat. "I have not forgotten. I know very well." Pressing a hand over a fold of his robes as if straightening it, he then spoke again in a small voice, more to himself than to me, I think. "Your resemblance is uncanny, is all."
"Resemblance? To who? Morgana?" Past me was a bit less prudent than I had grown to be with the painting. Had that conversation been now, I wouldn't have said anything to that.
Merlin turned to me, looking surprised yet again after losing himself staring away into nothing. It almost appeared as if he remembered I was standing there. "Do not say that name." His voice was grave, almost sharp as he chastised me. If it had been a tad sharper, I would have taken it as an insult. "It is after curfew, I believe. Go in."
He didn't wait for me to say the password. He swung open, and with little vacillation, I went in.
The sun blinded me, coming out of nowhere as I tried to focus on where I was now. My eyes lowered to my hands, on which I held an opened notebook and a quill. Fingers dirty with dried ink as per usual at that time in my life; I was scribbling something in it as hasty as I was physically able to. I didn't read what I had written down, for a quick glance up got my attention. I saw the receding back of Professor Kettleburn, walking away with Hagrid the Groundskeeper to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. What they were getting, I didn't know nor I tried to figure out, for at that very moment, I turned to Mafalda. "Do you suppose this will be tested on paper or will we have to perform it?"
"Definitely perform it." She said, closing her own notebook as she had finished taking her notes.
A loud sound came from me, like a desperate sigh. I watched my quill hand go up to the side of my head and push what I could only assume were lose strands of hair, that or wiping off sweat from my temple. Clearly, school work was getting the best of me already. I was not sure if two weeks had even gone by, but I was already losing my cool. I didn't need to have feeling over my body, or even look at myself to know it. Watching as I appeared to be struggling with my limbs and the notebook, another depressing groan shook my vision, as I saw that the quill had left a splatter over the opened pages. I closed the notebook instantly, and I didn't understand why.
"Faraday!" Mafalda took my attention with the slight alarm in her voice. When I turned to look at her, her eyes were widened as she edged toward me with what I liked to think was concern. "You're bleeding. Are you alright?"
Sure enough, it clicked in my mind, though I didn't really remember the occurrence happening. The splatter I had thought to be ink on my notebook before had been blood. In the absence of color in my dream, it looked as black as any common ink. One of my hands went to my nose. I didn't know if I was bleeding more, but the other hand fished Lorcan's embroidered handkerchief from within my robes to clean the mess I probably made over my face. "It's nothing."
My words only made her give me a dubious expression. "In any case, you should go to the Hospital Wing. I'll go tell Professor Kettleburn." Her volunteering was strange, I guess, even more the way she hastened away. Either she was really worried about me or she hated seeing blood. And as in control as I knew Mafalda liked to be, I think it was more because of the latter reason.
When she came back, we were no longer outside taking Care of Magical Creatures. Walking with Mafalda we made our way to where our dorm mates stood, gathered for the Duelling Society along with every Slytherin from fourth year to seventh. We were in one of the most spacious empty classrooms down in the dungeons, one that still sported the remnants of when it actually was used as a dungeon. Rusty chains and ancient leather decorated the walls, adding to the cosy and cool atmosphere under the Black Lake. It wasn't anything near as comfortable as the Slytherin Common room, but we weren't lounging around. No, that wasn't what the Duelling Society was for.
I imagined I was as poised as Gemma, as I stood next to her amidst the crowd of Slytherins students that huddled together around Lorcan.
Standing in all his splendour, with his long blond hair tied back in an easy braid I had done myself earlier, he rounded up his speech. It was sort of welcoming words, speaking promises of what the new school year would bring, and what as Slytherins we should do to keep our grandeur firmly placed. I stared at Lorcan transfixed as all the other students did. He had a commanding voice and presence, one that more than once had me jump into a tense stance. I knew that I wouldn't be able to go against anything Lorcan said since that very first time I heard him speak publically. Watching him command such respect had made me feel a bit nerve-wracked, I remembered. In my present sane state I would had tell the idiot looking at him so transfixed to run away as fast as possible. But damn,how pleasurable it felt to have his eyes go to me during his speech, even now when I knew of all he would eventually do to me.
"… and, of course, we'll win the House Cup again this year."
When Lorcan's speech ended, we began practicing Dark Arts. That was what the Duelling Society was for; a safe and secret place of gathering for Slytherin students to practice the Dark Arts.
A normal person would had refused to form part of such a meeting, even I as uncultured and unknowing as I was, knew the reputation the Dark Arts had. Seeing as they were prohibited to be taught in school, even in Defence against the Dark Arts class, and that all my Housemates seemed completely at ease with practicing them, I saw no problem with doing it clandestinely. Dumbledore had refused to tell me anything about them in our spars while I lived in the Hospital, claiming that it would be best if I waited to have better control over my abilities. I had seen books about it in the Restricted Section of the Library, but I hadn't read any of them yet. I was afraid that touching them would get my permission to look around in that Section revoked. Even more so considering that the only reason I was allowed on that side of the Library was for me to research Merlin on my own.
Since learning of the existence of the Dark Arts, I had thought them to be a matter of concern; a particular matter I should shy away from, though my curiosity sometimes threaten to get the best of me. As I stood among older students teaching younger students dark spells and hexes I had to admit that I was utterly fascinated. I remembered vividly my first Society meeting. I held onto my wand inching to do something, to have someone tell me what to do, since there was no book in the proximity that I could use to awaken my blood knowledge. I looked around the crowd for Lorcan, but he was deep in conversation with students of his year to pay attention to me. Another look around the room had me seeing that my dorm mates were already engaged in practice.
I wagered whether or not to go to them for help, until I saw someone who stood alone.
It was Regulus Black. He didn't seem particularly invested in what was taking place, looking around with an oddly familiar bored expression on his face. Still, like me he eagerly held his wand in his hand. I went to him.
"Hello, Regulus." I ventured, though there weren't many a times where I had spoken to the fifth year before. On the top of my head, most times I had talked to Regulus was to ask him directions around Hogwarts. He was a good Prefect and very patient with me, no matter how many times I asked him how to get to Charms class.
"Nolan."
"Call me Faraday, I don't mind." My voice was not pasty sweet to him, like it was with Lorcan. I was glad that when speaking to him I heard myself as normal as I now felt I was. Regulus was an impressive boy who I admired a lot. Though, I couldn't really pinpoint why. Now, as I looked at him, in many ways he reminded me of Sirius. It was mostly because of the long dark hair they kept, the fair handsome skin and the same shade of grey eyes, traits I was told were common among the Black family. "You will not practice?"
"I'm waiting for Adrian." He said as he slightly pointed forward. Adrian Flint was one of the seventh years in a fascinated discussion with looked me over. His expression didn't particularly look nice, but I didn't mind; he had always been kind to me, regardless. "Are you looking for someone to duel with?"
Smiling, I shook my head. "I'm looking for a teacher, actually. Would you be willing to help me?"
He took longer than I would have ever liked, but in the end he nodded and led the way to en empty spot in the room. There was barely any time wasted, Regulus began to teach me easy hexes, and though I don't know how long we were there, out of nowhere he was teaching me the Cruciatus Curse. How we had gone from dark hexes to Unforgivable Curses I don't know, but I could remember the surge that invaded me at the prospect of learning them. Of course, I had no intention to kill anyone, but the other two curses were fascinating, and after Regulus taught me how they were done by using them on me, he volunteered to be my practice dummy. I remembered getting the headaches caused by my blood knowledge, as I awoke the information of the curses hidden in my ancestry. And though I knew everything there was to be known about them, my first few tries at the Cruciatus Curse were disappointing.
"Is it doing anything?"
"Not really." Regulus said with a smile, visibly trying to keep it from forming. The me in the memory grunted slightly, taking random steps in the same spot to apparently alleviate the frustration of failing to hurt the fifth year student. "Try again, Faraday. Concentrate."
"Crucio," I said, my voice trying to evoke confidence and power. This time the curse made the boy slightly jump, and though it was progress, it didn't appear to make me feel any better. My shoulders slouched forward as I looked down to my feet. It was nothing compared to the reactions the casters next to me were getting. There were moan and grunts of pain all around, as many other had begun to practice the same Unforgivable Curse too.
Lorcan came to me then. Being the senior Slytherin Prefect, he had been supervising the spars that were taking place. He had been walking around the room, and more than once during my practice with Regulus, my eyes had rose to look for him. Now, he watched me intently, his eyes lingering over the arch I made with my arm as I pointed my wand. "Do it again."
His command was evident, and so I did as told. However, yet again, the red light only made Regulus slightly jump when it collided on his chest.
I couldn't feel my body, but hell I could remember how it had felt that particular time that he had touched my body. It was a vivid memory, chiselled into my brain for prosperity, whether I liked it or had put a hand on my lower back and with the other hand he adjusted my arm up a bit straighter. There was really no point for him to do that, other than to seem like he was doing something. Dumbledore had remarked that I had great posture since I first faced him with my wand. But that fact hadn't mattered as I let Lorcan place my limbs as he wanted, not when he was so incredibly close and lingering.
"You have to mean it." He said against my ear, for it was a whisper only meant for me, in that velvety way of his that always had me swooning. "Think of making him suffer; on seeing him go through excruciating pain."
"What kind of pain?" My voice came out as a low whimper
"Maybe the one you get when you're writing an assignment." A laugh was evident in his voice as he spoke and I joined him with a breathless one. Had I been in control over my body I knew I would be able to feel his lips against my ear. And that thought what simply revolting. He went on with his instructions."Only do it tenfold."
Again, I fired my Unforgivable Curse, and there was an immediate reaction. Regulus jumped in his spot, clutching at his torso, twisting his face in agony. He swayed slightly, almost giving the impression that he would fall over.
"That's my girl." Lorcan said, green eyes brimming with what I thought was pride, and taking the moment as the perfect opportunity to do something atrocious. As I looked up at him, he leaned down, landing a kiss next to my mouth on my cheek. Time stopped then, the dream shifted and there was darkness. I was repulsed to remember how good that kiss had felt, and how good the memory still made me shudder enough to send me into a dark abyss.
". . . and Rabastan gave me a single flower, set to bloom whenever I gave it a kiss. By far it's the best date he's ever taken me on." Gertrude said as she waddled next to me out of the Library. "But of course, it's too soon for Lorcan to do such gestures."
"I wouldn't know what to do if he did." And if he had done any sort of thing like that the memory of it would be enough to make me vomit.
But Gertrude didn't know that at the moment, nor did the me she was talking to as we made our way past throngs of students off to fulfilled their school day. We were in the second floor, nearing the Study Hall. Light shined through the crystal windows, lighting up Gertrude face, eliminating grey shadows as she looked at me."You really fancy him don't you?"
It was subtle, but I noticed how my head nodded. Then someone went past me, knocking me bit forward.
"Excuse me." Was all I heard, but a flash of red hair was all I needed to know who it was. I had thought it was rude, it was clear with the disgusted dignified looks I shared with Gertrude. It had been rude, in all honesty. But my heart felt light with delight at seeing Lily, my one true girl friend. What past me thought about her didn't matter, past me was an idiot for not being friends with Lily Evans. Even more so considering how she went, blazing as only she was capable, toward the Study Hall wand in hand
"Potter, I'm warning you!" She said standing on the very arch that led to the Hall. She looked imposing as ever, a warrior witch that could instil fear into the hearts of men and woman if she wanted. As I watched her trapped inside my body, I felt sorry for poor James, probably sitting in the Hall doing anything but work, and having to face the embodiment of heavenly raging fire. "If I have to subtract more points from my own House because of you I'm going to hex you so bad that not even your mother will recognize you."
Her screamed words echoed in the hallway, the threat real and frightening, and though I would have given all my worldly possessions to see James' reaction, I was no longer in Lily's proximity.
White beds, neatly fitted stood in rows, as I sat on one of them in the Hospital Wing. I looked at my lap, watching intently as I fidgeted with Lorcan's handkerchief. It was covered all over with dark spots and I immediately knew why I was there. Madam Pomfrey contorted her features, surprising me that she wasn't berating me with needing to rest or such. She always did that whenever we met; which unfortunately for me happened too often, and also meant having Dumbledore around. Sure enough, my eyes roamed and I was able to see him standing at the foot of my bed. Supervising the exchange as he was supposed to, he was silent.
"How many hours of sleep do you manage?" She asked me tentatively holding a brown vial in her hand as she faced me. My eyes lingered on it more than on the matron, and I could understand why. If I was in pain at that moment, I had no way of knowing, but if the vial was out in the open probably meant that I was in dire need of it.
My reply came slow, hesitant of telling her, however she was my Healer for the moment. If I didn't tell her and get worst I would end up going back to St. Mungo's. In any moment of my life that was something to avoid. "Five, sometimes six."
"And are you eating all your meals?"
"I might've skipped one or two." I said hesitantly, obviously trying to keep my lying believable. Of course I skipped meals. My desperation with readying, studying and catching up to the curriculum enough to get good grades had me missing more meals that I could remember needing.
Madam Pomfrey was not happy with me as was evident with her glare and then later her dishearten sigh as she handed me the vial to drink.
"Will it be enough, Pommy?" Dumbledore asked, edging forward to assess the matter more closely, I supposed. Even looking at the memory for a second time I could see in him real concern, and that didn't make me feel good. I was looking at him through the corner of my eye as my head tilted back to drink the potion I had been given. It was a body relaxation potion, one that I had drank many a time to combat the strain the blood knowledge headaches gave me and my obsessive lifestyle.
"Something must be done about missing meals, but for now this solution will do," Pomfrey said, the low spirits of earlier gone and replaced by her normal resilience as she turned to Dumbledore fully. "However, Headmaster, I cannot stretch any further her need to rest. Miss Nolan is resilient, yet she has her limitations. I would think it best that she stayed the night here, away from her work."
Dumbledore eyed me for what seemed like the longest time. For the life me he didn't seem too believing of the matron, even as I sat holding on to Lorcan's handkerchief all bloodied.
"Rest will not progress your education," I thought that was said by Dumbledore, but when my gaze rose to look at him again; he wasn't the one I saw. Nowhere near the Hospital Wing, I stood in front of Merlin in my normal spot as he was the one who had spoken. "Coming to this school was never meant to be an easy road, not even to normal students."
"I told Dumbledore that Pomfrey is the one fussing. I think I'm doing well." I defended myself, unmoving from my spot, but wild hair shaking all over the place. It seemed strange to me for a moment, to have my hair down, however I supposed it was after hours and I had slipped out of my bed in my nightgown to talk to the portrait. Looking down for a second, I managed to catch sight of my white sleep clothes, hidden away under the outer school robe I normally put over myself when leaving my dorm room, unless it was a night of a full moon, of course.
"You are." Merlin pressed visually more accustomed to me than before. He seemed kinder and comfortable, testimony to the few weeks worth of meetings and conversation we had. We were already getting used to each other, and that was somewhat heart-warming to see. "Though of course, we have yet to see. If your marks are not satisfactory in the tests that will soon take place, I'm afraid that we will have to pay special attention to your schedule, and transfer time to where you are lacking."
No, it was not heart-warming, it was fucking annoying to have a third party pressing and pressing for me to always give more and more than I was physically able to give.
"Faraday?" My name emerged from within nothingness, and I turned to see Lorcan coming down the stairs that led to the Slytherin portrait. He was still dressed in his school robes, and though the me in the dream was silent, I was more than certain that I was internally screaming at having him catch me after finishing his rounds. His Prefect badge was oddly shinny in the black and white. Eyes going from me to Merlin, he approached with no trepidation, ever the sun, ever a figure of power. "What are you doing here?"
His sudden appearance took me for a loop, as I head myself gasping for an answer. "I w-was just ta-talking to Mer—" My eyes flew to Merlin, who remained passive at the interruption and to my almost reveal of his true identity. My body took an audible deep breath before correcting myself. "The Old Wizard."
"You're the seventh year prefect, Mulciber yes?" The painting said, uncaring of the situation and that I might have gotten in trouble right then and there.
"I am." He said to Merlin, but he didn't look at the man in the frame. His eyes were on me as he talked; his brow tied together as if there was something he didn't understand. "I was doing the last rounds of the night. And here I find you Faraday, out after curfew. It does not sit well in me to have to punish members of my own House."
Past me stuttered a little, much like I knew Peter did. In my defence, I guess I hadn't the foggiest idea of what excuse I could say. Idiocy used to rear its ugly head in me when he was around. I couldn't tell him that I had Dumbledore's permission to talk to the painting whenever I wanted because I was related to the memory of the man capture in it. That would've raised too many questions, in addition that it would not look good that I had such a close bond with a painting. Not even Dumbledore approved of that bit. Lorcan would do the same, even more so considering that he dismissed the painting immediately after finding me there. It was evident when he grabbed my hand. "Come along, best we entered. Nostrum furor."
Merlin did not open at the sound of the password. He remained closed, glaring at Lorcan in a way that I, in any time of my life, would hate to have directed at me. "I am not finished conversing with Faraday, boy."
"You are for now. Goodnight." Lorcan said decidedly, waiting for the portrait to swing open.
My eyes went from Lorcan to the painting of my ancestor, desperately. What I wanted to happen between the two, I had no idea, but I was livid inside that Mulciber had treated the picture so rudely. How dare he? The only one that could be rude to the canvas was me, and even I didn't enjoy doing that without reason. Looking at Merlin, his face twisted with disgust and anger, directed sorely at the boy next to me. However, he did as told, swinging opened. Why he accepted the defeat will remain as a mystery for me, and I would have liked to think more on that, yet I couldn't, for I was pulled inside.
"You shouldn't take the Old Wizard too seriously. He's merely a drawing." Lorcan said once the door closed behind us. The common room was dim in accordance to the hour, dark and grey when it should had been cool and green.
Lorcan loosened the knot of his tie as he led me to stop in the very middle of the common room between the sofas, sighing as he went. "It's late, let's turn in," He turned to me, evaporating the small distance between us to land a kiss on my forehead. I couldn't feel it, but just the memory of it was enough for me to imagine my stomach twisting and lurching horribly. When he parted from me, he got a good look at my face, his so close to mine to be almost taken aback by whatever he saw on it."When was the last time you slept? You look dreadful, my sweet. Where you crying again?"
I nodded.
"How many times must I repeat it? It's beneath you to cry," The tone of voice he used was not nice, though not bad either. It was stuck in the criticizing spectrum, as if telling me I was really doing wrong to cry. As if that part of my nature was bad and unworthy of myself for me to do. He pushed my face up to look only at him with a hand under my chin. Having nothing but Lorcan invading my eyesight wasn't pleasurable, not like I might have thought of it once. I wanted to glare him into oblivion, show him my well developed hatred for him, yet that was impossible. Not when his green eyes waited for me to speak, and I had no control over my body or how my past occurred.
"I'm sorry." I apologized for some reason and that made him smile. Of course it made Mr. Pestilence smile, he loved having me submit to him.
"Oh Faraday." His face looked relaxed as a smile broke into it, making his normally handsome feature even more so. He was the sun after all, and at the presence of that smile I really did pity myself again. I had no chance against him. "You are adorably daft."
Lorcan's face blurred and then suddenly, he wasn't standing in front of me anymore. I was outside once again looking at nothing.
Or at least I thought for a few minutes that I was looking at nothing, but that wasn't true. I was with my fellow classmates, outside waiting for Care for Magical Creatures class to begin. I wasn't talking to any of the Slytherins, and though I could hear their muffled voices eager for class, I couldn't see them. Not when my gaze was unmoving. For the longest time it stayed in place, I couldn't remember why, yet still I stared and stared, at the Forbidden Forest.
If maybe the reason was that I was waiting for Professor Kettleburn to emerge from within the trees, then it would make sense. I had done that many times, but the one time my gaze separated from the forest gave me the perfect answer to my question.
My gaze went up, lazily up as if it was heavy, and there it was. Shinning past clouds and sunlight, the moon peaked into the day sky, almost completely round and bright. The full moon was close, probably a day or two away, and even if I didn't know it back in the time of the dream, it was already affecting me. Lady Moon's influence was already cursing through my blood, and standing so close to the Forbidden Forest, well it was no wonder I could only stare at it.
And then, suddenly, I could see my reflection staring back at me, and it took me a longer moment than usual to figure out that I didn't have a twin nor was I staring unto a mirror. No it was a window, showing my reflection as good as windows could. It was the strangest thing, to finally see myself in the dream. I recognized myself well, but the me that I saw was still different. She looked prettier than I had ever felt, and more at ease with herself than I can imagine myself try being again. That girl was a stranger to me, a stranger that had died at the hands of the person that held her close that very moment. My reflection was not alone.
"…fairly simple to carry out, and then you will be an official member of the Duelling Society." Lorcan finished. He held me close, my back pressed against his chest as his arms tied me to him. We sat in front of a big window, the school grounds stretching in the view. We were particularly high up, like fifth or sixth floor up, looking out at the students filling outside, enjoying their spare free time as we were.
Even at the altitude, I could make out people, and it made me happy to recognize Peter, James, Sirius and Remus walking off in the grounds. I watched them strut away in the direction of Hagrid's hut and it made me fairly content trying to imagine where they were headed or what sort of trouble they were they brewing. But Lorcan's moving brought me back to seeing just us in the window. I wished I could see my friends again, even if it only a little, yet that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. I saw as a hand took hold of my face, moving it, twisting me around to meet lips with the person sitting with me.
It wasn't our first kiss, no. That had been filled with butterflies and rainbows and all sorts of pasty magical feelings a couple nights after the first Society meeting. I was abysmally glad that I could feel nothing from this kiss, and that past me had the decency to close her eyes while doing it. To have to go through them again would be hell, and would had me considering yet again that maybe the whole dream experience was my one way to death. Death would be better than submitting to Lorcan Mulciber again.
"When will the initiation take place?" I managed to say, even though my voice sounded completely stupefied because of the gesture I had just received.
"Tomorrow," He said his arms appearing to snake tighter around me. "During the full moon."
In the window I could see my reflection as clear as earlier, smiling brightly at what I had been told. Again it was so strange to see myself that happy, that carefree. By grandpa Merlin, I was such an idiot. However, I couldn't judge myself too harshly, though. Not when Lorcan kissed me again.
AN: This chapter suffered a mayor re-write two weeks ago. Let's take that as the excuse as to why it's so long. There were many important things to be mentioned and reference, as well as some plots to be justified.
Did, however, this chapter need to turn out this long? Probably not. Like this whole story, I got carried away with it and now it's annoyingly long. Not that I'm mad, I love to read long fics, but man this is exhausting work. At least I get joy out of writing this. And I can't fucking wait to get further along the plot. Yasssss.
Next chapter hopefully won't be as long as this one, though there's a lot to cover. I decided to go full circle with this massive flashback at some point last month, so they will end where the story started. Sorry for the spoiler.
Read, enjoy and review if you have the time, lovely people.