Chapter 7
That night, the dreams returned for the first time in over a year.
She recognizes him by the plaid overshirt, worn jeans, and scuffed sneakers which he insists are the height of muggle fashion. She doubts this very much—if she didn't know better, she would wonder how this homeless boy hasn't been tossed out of Diagon Alley's library on his head. As she approaches, he swipes auburn waves off his forehead and the gesture is so achingly familiar she forgets to breathe.
Even as she longs to simply stand in the aisle and freeze this moment in time, her feet carry her to his table, and she pulls a thin novel from her bag.
"Owen," she greets him, sliding the novel across the table. She eyes it suspiciously as a large blue iris peers unseeingly at her from its white cover.
Owen lifts a finger, finishes copying a passage down into his spiral-bound notebook, then finally lifts his head with a lazy grin.
"Hey, Carina. What did you think of it?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his writing hand.
"It was… disturbing," she answers truthfully, casting another mistrustful glance at 1984 by one George Orwell. "Are all Muggles so susceptible to manipulation by their governments?"
A small frown creases Owen's face. "You'd be surprised at how many people are, magical or not. Orwell's world is based on a dystopian society and this work is sort of a commentary on government overreach, totalitarianism, censorship, things like that."
Carina stares at him. "And you read things like this for fun?"
Owen shrugs. "Dad loves the classics and deep literature. He's got dozens of them around the house he's collected over the years. It keeps him occupied. He says if he can't exercise his body, he may as well exercise his mind. It helps him to have someone to discuss them with, and they're actually pretty good reads."
"I suppose it would at least help him understand other Muggles," she relents, though still doubtful that such a depressing novel could provide any sort of entertainment.
"Not just Muggles," Owen corrects, tapping his pen against his notebook. "Lots of his books are commentaries on human nature in general."
"Wizards and witches are far above muggles," she scoffs, rolling her eyes at the idea of muggle authors commenting on a society they know nothing about.
"Says the pureblood witch who asks me for muggle classics," Owen smirks triumphantly. He's still grinning as he turns his attention back to his stack of books. "Maybe Big Brother's gotten to you too."
"I don't have a big brother."
"No, but you do have a little brother."
"Shut up, Edevane."
"Yes, your purebloodedness."
She scowls at his teasing mockery. "Muggle-borns," she huffs, folding her arms and glaring at him without any heat. "Proper witches and wizards would never be taken in by such blatant lies and doublespeak."
He rolls his eyes, waving a hand at the chair across from him in invitation. "I wouldn't be so sure. Have you noticed the mania surrounding one Gilderoy Lockhart recently?"
She nods, rolling her eyes as she lowers herself into the proffered chair. "Of course. Lyra's mother is wild about him."
"I've read a few of his works and they contradict everything we've learned in Defense and Care of Magical Creatures. And yet it seems everywhere I look in Flourish and Blotts people are clambering for his books and taking them as gospel! If that isn't a real-life example of witches and wizards being taken in by falsehoods, I don't know what is."
She smiles at his ranting. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders how she'd forgotten this passionate side of him.
"Fine," she finally cuts him off. "I'll give you that one, though you have to admit they are entertaining reads if nothing else. Gilderoy Lockhart tends to over-exaggerate his adventures and is charismatic enough to charm most witches with half a brain. Some wizards too, probably."
He opens his mouth to comment, but she pushes on. "What else can you recommend?"
He blinks, momentarily stunned. "Are you asking for another piece of muggle literature?"
"Did I stutter?" She doesn't try to keep the amused smirk off her face, enjoying his reaction perhaps more than she should.
"What about your dad?"
The memory of anger swells in her belly, almost as sharp as the ache in her heart. She looks away to compose her features, staring at a nearby bookshelf. Father would be furious if he ever found out… But would it truly be that bad to learn more about muggles?
Her eyes remain locked on the shelf and suddenly she realizes there's something wrong about it. A moment ago, it was laden with volumes of all sizes and colors, some older and varnished while others gleam with fresh spines. Now it is populated by rows upon rows of plain, black ones. Dark uneasiness quenches the anger in her stomach, and she stands to investigate.
The air around her chills as she leaves the table behind, the air shimmering as though she has left some sort of protective bubble. Distantly, she hears Owen talking about his muggle father and their collection of revered muggle literature, but she is absorbed by a faint whisper emanating from the shelf. With every step she takes, the temperature drops a degree until her breath clouds the air before her. She lifts a hand, barely noticing the frosted tips of her blue fingers as they skim across the spines of the books. A quarter of the way down the row, she hesitates over a volume that quivers excitedly.
Dread washes over her and she tries to step back, but her feet are rooted to the spot as though by a Leg-Locker curse. She tries to yank her arm back, but it doesn't respond as her fingers close around the book and pull it from the shelf.
"Carina," it whispers.
"No," she pants, her muscles sluggish as she tries to release her grip on the book. Her body won't respond. Her hands feel like lead and her throat closes over the words she tries to force to her lips.
"Carina," the book murmurs again, this time louder. "We have unfinished business, you and I."
"Stop," she pleads weakly. "Don't…"
"Look at the boy."
Her feet move of their own accord, turning her to look at Owen. A moment ago his face was bright and eager. As he stares at her now, betrayal and terror mar his features.
"Owen," she croaks. "R-run…"
"Stop fighting, Carina. This must be done…"
The pages fall open and ink drips like blood from a gaping wound over her hands…
"No!" Carina bolted upright in her four-poster, very nearly colliding with Lyra. Mercifully released from the nightmare and Lyra's grip on her shoulders, she hunched over and held herself in a desperate attempt to quell the panic.
"It's alright," Lyra soothed in a low voice, moving cautiously closer to wrap an arm around her. "You're safe now, Carina. I promise."
Carina shuddered. Several minutes passed before the edges of the dream blurred, becoming less vivid as she slowed her breathing.
"What time is it?" she finally rasped.
"Early. Probably five-thirty."
"The others?"
"Still sleeping," Lyra assured her. She pressed a glass of water into Carina's hands, which had finally ceased trembling. She hid a grimace as the icy cool liquid sloshed down her throat, reminding her all too well of the chill.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Lyra's voice, gentle and inviting as it was, reminded Carina of her conviction that if Lyra hadn't been sorted into Slytherin, she'd make an excellent Hufflepuff.
Carina hesitated. It was always a fine line to walk when she thought of Owen, two sides of the same bitter coin. Still… Lyra knew about him, at least, and she had no one else to confide in. After a moment's consideration, she cast a Silencing Charm around her bed.
"I… I dreamed of Owen Edevane," she admitted. Lyra shifted on the bed to face her, listening intently.
"The Ravenclaw boy who went missing a couple years ago, right?"
"Yes. He was a muggle-born."
"I remember. It's why you didn't want your parents to know you were meeting him in Diagon Alley. What about him?"
Carina hesitated, then sighed. Lyra of all people would understand. After all, her oldest cousin was a halfblood in Slytherin and had faced endless persecution for it, but Lyra adored him anyway.
"Remember those twins you pointed out during the Sorting tonight?"
"Yes. One of them is ours."
"Well… they're muggle-born too."
Even in the darkness Lyra's eyes glowed with shock. "What? How?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice down despite the charm Carina had cast.
Carina repeated her conversations with the girls from the train and the corridor before orientation. When she finished, Lyra's eyes were wide and worried.
"That's impossible though, isn't it?" she said, echoing Carina's initial thoughts. "Have they considered that perhaps they were adopted? Maybe their mother was a witch who had a fling with a muggle and was either too ashamed to keep them or couldn't afford to keep them… Or perhaps a muggle mother who didn't know she was having a fling with a wizard…"
"Ava was quite adamant that her parents were always faithful to one another, though it hardly matters, does it?" Carina said. "Regardless of what might have happened, she will maintain her stance. You know how bad it will be for her."
Lyra cocked her head to one side, appraising Carina in a way that made her feel as though she'd done something wrong. She shifted uncomfortably beneath her friend's gaze.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Once word gets out, everyone is going to expect you to deliver harsh judgment on Ava's head," Lyra said gently, as though speaking to an upset child. Carina hated how much the dream made her feel just so.
"I know." She dropped her gaze to the glass in her hands.
"So… what are you going to do?" Lyra prompted.
Carina shook her head, struggling inwardly. After three months living in her father's household and listening to his purist ideals, she fought not to flinch as she spoke.
"I feel like I need to protect her," she whispered, tightening her hands around the glass. "Ava and her sister. She's stubborn and determined, but she doesn't know what she's in for."
"Your father will be furious if he finds out you're protecting muggle-borns," Lyra pointed out, her tone perfectly neutral and expression inscrutable.
"So you see my dilemma." Carina set the glass aside and pulled her knees to her chest to rest her arms on them. "If I openly defend Ava and her sister once they're revealed to be muggle-borns—which will likely happen sooner rather than later—the others will take note and word will get back to my father."
She broke off as a shudder rippled through her.
"Who cares what your father thinks though?" Lyra prodded. "After all, with him being at home and you being of age and at school, what's the worst he could possibly do to you? Cut off your allowance? Give you a firm reprimand when you go home for the holidays? Send you a Howler and unveil your treachery?"
"He can't know," Carina cut in sharply, paling at how close Lyra's last suggestion had come to hitting home. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs to quell the panic rising in her chest.
The truth was, she had committed treachery and her father knew it. He was the reason it hadn't spread, the reason nobody else knew of it. She owed him for making it all go away. Even if she was of age, she owed her father her loyalty—and yet…
And yet she couldn't bring herself to disgrace Owen by actively despising and tormenting muggle-borns. She was shackled by contradicting debts and she could see no way to escape her bonds without betraying one or the other.
Carina's thoughts began to spiral, and it took all of her discipline to pull them back up from the depths they were too quickly acquainting her with. She spent several minutes breathing into the space between her legs and chest, silently gathering her fears into a mental box and locking them away again. She had to focus on the here and now. At length she raised her head and met Lyra's steady gaze.
"We'll have to start by relying on the Slytherin bond from orientation," she murmured. "It has a renewed impact on all of us, which brings us closer for the first few weeks of school. We could lay a false trail of information about her heritage that would paint them in a more favorable light."
"Do you think she would go for that?" Lyra asked doubtfully. "It might be more prudent to have her start building relationships with her year mates so that she has some sort of support system when everything comes crashing down. And," she added at Carina's doubtful glance, "it will allow them to see her more for who she is. That alone may help to overshadow her heritage."
Carina tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "Very true. In the meantime, we can start laying groundwork with the upperclassmen. I'd still like to lay some false information to keep them from completely turning on her when they find out. You know how people like Marcus are when they don't like something."
Lyra wrinkled her nose. They spent the next couple of hours quietly discussing the issue, and once their dorm mates began to stir, they emerged from Carina's bed and readied themselves for the day.
When they entered the Great Hall for breakfast, Carina scanned the table and found most of the first years already seated together, most of the boys drowsily picking at their plates while most of the girls chatted amicable. Ava sat amidst them, observing and listening intently even as her eyes flicked repeatedly to the mostly empty Ravenclaw table.
Carina figured the Ravenclaws wouldn't be down until later. From what she had heard from her Ravenclaw friends, they often spent their first night back talking late into the night, catching up and learning about the new first years. Seeing as September first had fallen on a Thursday, she imagined that they would take the opportunity to sleep in their beds rather than the first day's classes, which would begin on Monday instead of Friday.
Carina and Lyra seated themselves a little down the table from the first years and plated their breakfasts.
"Well, it doesn't look like she's been shunned yet," Lyra said, ever the optimist in their friendship.
"Let's hope it stays that way," Carina muttered, focusing on her breakfast. The conversation lulled as they ate, and Carina's thoughts drifted traitorously back to her nightmare. Her jaw tightened as she recalled the image of ink and blood trickling over her fingers, and she set aside the toast she'd been smearing raspberry jam on. Somehow the dark red topping didn't seem quite so appetizing.
She was tempted to shove away the images again, but she hesitated as she stared at the Hogwarts crest etched onto her goblet. Her father couldn't reach her here, not with his Legilimency. If she didn't sort through the elements of her most recent nightmare and the flashback from the World Cup, she could very well set herself up for failure. She couldn't afford that, not with this year being the most important of her academic career and with the Tournament presenting a vital networking opportunity.
No, she would have to face the nightmares sooner rather than later. She'd have to face Owen, the book, the voice, the blood… There had been so much blood…
Thump!
Carina startled so badly at the impact to the side of her head that she was half standing before she recognized the little package which had struck her as a harmless chocolate frog. Her head snapped up as Draco smirked at her, Crabbe and Goyle grinning stupidly on either side of him.
"What was that for?" she groused irritably.
Drago shrugged. "No wonder you're not a Seeker. Even blind Saint Potter would have seen that coming without his glasses. If you don't want it though, I suppose I'll just take it back."
Carina glared and snatched up the offending sweet as he reached for it. "Hands off, little brother, if you want to keep them attached," she warned, holding the packet protectively in her hands.
His smirk softened the slightest bit and he sauntered away to find a seat with his lackeys. Carina settled back onto the bench and opened it, handing the card to Lyra as she indulged in her prize. Despite the abrasive delivery of the chocolate and that annoying smirk he'd perfected from their father, Carina appreciated Dracos's gesture. He would never tell her outright to snap out of one of her moods in public, but he always knew when she'd had one of her nightmares. He also knew that chocolate was one of her favorite therapies—or her guilty pleasure, depending on the day—and often kept them on hand.
That being said, Carina couldn't take full credit for his constant stash of chocolate. They both inherited a ravenous sweet tooth from their mother, and they often teased it was by sheer will that their teeth hadn't completely rotted away.
The chocolate settled her mood and brought her back from the darker depths of her mind. She would figure out the nightmares later in a more private setting, she decided. For today, Carina had other goals in mind.
That afternoon after their signing lessons and lunch, Carina made her way up to Professor McGonagall's office and knocked on the door. It swung open to admit her and Carina strode through to take a seat before the professor's desk. Just like Carina's own desk at home, the professor's desk was neat, despite the various stacks of parchment already adorning it. Memos from other professors sat in one pile, lesson plans in another, and a few envelopes bearing the seals of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang lay to one side. An open inkwell and a few quills sat in a neat row as Professor McGonagall signed a letter, then flicked her wand to fold it and send it to a pile on another table in the office.
"Miss Malfoy, what a pleasure," Professor McGonagall said as she replaced the inkwell's lid. "Surely you realize that classes don't start for two more days?"
Carina's lips twitched in a smile. "I do. I'd like to discuss another matter with you, Professor. An extracurricular project, if you will."
Professor McGonagall peered at her quizzically through her spectacles and nodded for Carina to continue.
Carina sat a little taller in her chair, attempting to exude confidence even though she wasn't certain the stern woman would agree to her proposal. She wouldn't know until she tried.
"Professor, you know Transfiguration is my best subject. I've excelled my entire school career and I've always perfected my techniques before the other students."
"Yes, Miss Malfoy, I am aware of your aptitude for it." She raised her eyebrows as if to say what of it?
Carina took a breath to steady herself and willed her hands not to tremble as they sat folded in her lap. "Well, I've been doing a lot of research this summer, and I'd be honored if you would take me under your tutelage to train me as an Animagus."
For a moment, Professor McGonagall said nothing. She studied Carina for long moments as the girl held her probing gaze. She felt an itch beneath her skin, ached to squirm, but refused to let any hesitation or doubt show in her body or face.
Eventually, Professor McGonagall brought her hands and folded them atop the desk, tilting her head.
"Miss Malfoy, what do you know of the process of becoming an Animagus? Legal and magical."
"I've studied both processes at length, Professor," Carina said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I know I'll need to notify the Ministry beforehand and register with them as soon as I've attained my shape. I've studied the potion and the magical properties of each component over the summer. I know it takes a great amount of skill and determination to accomplish."
"Are you also aware of the risks should the process go poorly?" Her tone took on a firm edge, almost grim.
Carina nodded solemnly. "I am. I know I can become stuck in a shape if I try to force one."
Professor McGonagall frowned. "That is not the only risk, Miss Malfoy. Terrible malformations may befall you, missing limbs, missing senses, even your magic may be affected if you are able to cast at all. It may even be deadly, should you fail."
Carina's hands tightened. "I understand."
Again Professor McGonagall studied her. The longer she stared at Carina, the more she felt like a beetle under a magnifying glass.
"Miss Malfoy, you turned of age just before the year began, correct?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And you intend to make a career for yourself when you leave Hogwarts?"
"Yes ma'am." Carina grew uneasy, wondering where this line of questioning would lead. "I'd like to go into politics."
"Do you feel that becoming an Animagus will assist you in reaching your goals?"
Carina hesitated. She didn't want to tell Professor McGonagall that she intended to use her Animagus form to spy on her opponents. It would grate against her chivalrous values and lessen Carina's chances of being her private pupil. She could, however, admit a different facet of truth.
"Perhaps not directly," she said slowly. "But Professor, it is my favorite subject and becoming an Animagus is one of the most advanced techniques there is. I want to match your skill level and have always admired your ability to shift." Carina winced inwardly at the pleading note in her voice. She hadn't intended for it to come through and worried that she had overplayed her hand.
Professor McGonagall watched her for another moment and Carina's stomach sank. She knew the Transfiguration professor was suspicious of her father, though she'd never said so outright. It would stand to reason that she would carry reservations about Carina as well.
Stupid, she chided herself. You should have done this on your own.
"I cannot tutor you," Professor McGonagall said, picking up her quill. Carina's chest flared with disappointment.
"I understand," she murmured, rising. She froze, however, when the woman fixed her with a stern stare and a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not finished, Miss Malfoy. Do sit down."
Carina lowered herself back into the chair, bracing for a lecture. It didn't come immediately. Instead, Professor McGonagall began to write. A minute or so passed with nothing but the scratching of the quill on parchment to fill the silence.
Was this some sort of tactic to prove a point? Carina's lips tightened and she tried to decipher the upside-down handwriting she'd grown so accustomed to seeing.
Attention: Mediwitch McConnell
I am submitting a request for redacted files on cases relating to
Professor McGonagall interrupted her process by signing the parchment at the bottom and sending it whizzing into an envelope on the other side of the room.
"I cannot tutor you until November, after the other schools have arrived," she said. "Professor Dumbledore is heavily involved in preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, and as deputy headmistress, many of his regular duties fall to me. We will be incredibly busy these next two months, but once the tournament begins, I will have more time to spare for your lessons."
Now Carina's heart lurched with desperate hope. She wished it would settle down long enough for her to get through this conversation.
"You won't be busy with the tournament itself?" she blurted. She immediately berated herself for giving Professor McGonagall an excuse not to teach her.
"In some ways, perhaps. But seeing as you are among my brightest and most diligent students, I trust you will be able to handle the additional workload without requiring constant supervision."
"Of course, Professor."
"Very well. I will be making a request to the Records Department of St. Mungo's for case files involving failed Animagus transformations. You will study each and identify what went wrong in the process."
Carina's brow furrowed. "Professor, I've already studied the process intensely."
"You have already studied how to do the process correctly. I must impress upon you the seriousness of what happens when it is done incorrectly. I should have the files by Tuesday at the latest if you would kindly stay after class to pick them up, and we will discuss the details of your first assignment."
"Yes, Professor. Thank you for the opportunity."
Professor McGonagall nodded once in acknowledgement, then offered a rare smile. "You have great potential, Miss Malfoy. I look forward to our lessons. Off you go, then."
Carina only barely tempered her grin to an acceptable smile as she took her leave. By the time the door swung shut behind her, joy had ballooned in her chest and left her nearly breathless with the force of it. The possibilities bloomed in her mind's eye. Perhaps if she was lucky, she would be able to complete the process sooner rather than later. She would get to be an Animagus.
Happy holidays and merry Christmas, dear readers! I apologize once again for the delay in updating this story. I made the mistake of taking one last class to earn my degree—while working full time, with a toddler and a relatively new baby. It feels like ages since I've had time to properly sit and write! Then there were the US elections, which were just… yeesh.
In any case, here is a new chapter with a brief glimpse into Carina's past. I would love to hear your speculations and thoughts! Reviews are always welcome, and thank you to those who have already reviewed. Your words and interest make me smile and give me motivation to continue.
Stay safe and happy reading!