My dreams persist, but, thankfully, they remain just that. Dreams. The girl features more often now, sometimes alongside Harry, sometimes not. But she's always wearing my locket.
One night, she's alone, dead, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. I quietly walk over and stoop to inspect her corpse.
She's a brunette, but her hair is dip-dyed a deep green; her skin is milky-white and freckled. I pick up her cold, limp hand- the left one- and turn it over in my palm. Her nails are painted a chipped, shimmering black and there's an elegant silver ring on her fourth finger, set with a sparkling diamond. She can't be any more than nineteen.
It occurs to me that I may be a seer. I can't tell yet whether delving into the arts of divination was a good idea or not, but I determine to test the extent of my abilities. So, the very next day, I order a crystal ball and several china teacups by owl. They arrive within a few hours.
School starts up again soon after the new year. On New Year's Eve-which just so happens to be Tom's birthday- Tom and I played Monopoly (which I won), then drank my liquor cabinet half dry and danced to obnoxiously loud music. Needless to say, my hangover persisted to almost the beginning of term, and Tom was still wearing sunglasses when the bell rang for first class. It seems he can't hold his drink nearly as well as me.
By the time History of Magic rolls around, I'm horribly bored. It's not exactly a difficult subject, given that I lived through most of it. Binns is droning on about the goblin rebellion of 1612 (something that I was thankfully not a part of. I'm fairly certain I was actually out of the country at the time). Fortunately, Tom and I develop a game to pass the time.
"You first," he whispers furtively.
I'm not entirely sure what the aim of the game is. To irritate our classmates, perhaps? To show off our impressive magic to each other?
"Okay," I murmur back. "Who's the target?"
Tom reclines back in his chair and sweeps his gaze over the class. From our vantage point near the back, we have an excellent view.
"Haywood," he says eventually. Elizabeth Haywood, a Hufflepuff, sits near the front of class, looking just as bored as the rest of us.
"Sure," I reply, my fingers already itching to cast some spells. "Colour?" I ask.
Tom pauses, deliberating. "Purple," he says at last.
I cringe internally. "Tom," I hiss, "she's a redhead. Do you have any idea how horribly that's going to clash?"
"Well if you don't think you can do it—"
"Shut up," I whisper, giving him a gentle shove.
Slowly, the ends of Haywood's hair begin to turn a bright, electric purple. The colour creeps steadily upwards until, with a deft flick of my fingers, the dye stops on a jarringly straight line. The contrast really is quite horrific. Haywood, half asleep, doesn't even notice that the lower half of her hair is now a shade that might be kindly entitled 'vibrant violet'.
"Nice," Tom whispers, trying not to laugh.
"Thank God it'll wash out," I mumble under my breath. "Now. Your turn." I look around a bit until my gaze lands on one boy in particular. A six-foot tall, blond Gryffindor who is currently snoring lightly. I indicate him to Tom. "See that Gryffindor?" I begin. "I don't know his name, but I do know that he hates Slytherins with a passion." I pause, smiling. "Make his hair green."
"Your wish is my command," Tom says, grinning, and, with a subtle flick of his wand, the boy's hair deepens to an unmistakeably Slytherin green.
"He'll have a fit when he looks in the mirror," I whisper, trying not to snigger.
"So will Abraxas," Tom begins, "after you make his precious hair bright red."
By the time the lesson is over, the entire class is sporting a myriad of gaudy, lurid colours in their hair. Needless to say, they are not best pleased when they wake up. Tom and I hastily colour our own hair, so to avoid suspicion, although we both take care to make our new hairstyles decidedly more flattering than the rest of the students'. I go for a subtle, dark burgundy, whilst Tom parades around, showing off his new, platinum blond hair. It's definitely an odd sight, although I catch Abraxas Malfoy gazing longingly at Tom's new hair more than a few times, whilst sadly fingering his own scarlet locks. There is, of course, an investigation into what has now been dubbed the 'hair heist', but the teachers seem to be more amused than angry about it. Professor Dumbledore was definitely chuckling when I saw him pass that Gryffindor boy in the hallway after class.
All in all, it's a pretty good first week back.
On Friday night, I slip undetected into the Slytherin boys' dormitory and leave an old pamphlet for Borgin and Burke's in the pages of one of Tom's books. It won't hurt to give him some clues, and the more he figures out on his own, the better. Eventually, I will lead him to the locket. But for now, it's best if I maintain this friendship, gradually preparing him for the task that lies ahead. Hopefully he won't hate me too much when he finds out the truth. Hopefully.
Sorry it's a bit short, but I just wanted to do a little fun, light-hearted chapter before we delve into the insanity that's coming. I, for one, am very excited to share it with you guys :)
Expected update: by 3rd April, maybe? We'll see.
Love you all!
Amy Grace xxx