An owl flew into his frosted flakes. That's how Lance's morning started.
In the owl's defence, it hadn't meant to fly into his cereal. Someone had tossed a croissant across the table and accidentally hit the approaching bird, knocking it into Lance's breakfast. He would have been concerned but Lance recognized Mordisquito right away and there was absolutely no chance in hell he was intervening. Not when that demon bird had its giant eyes set on the kid who'd tossed the pastry.
Mordisquito squawked, flapping his milk-soaked wings as he angrily stomped over in the poor soul's direction.
"Maldito Pájaro!" ("Damn bird!"), Lance muttered under his breath. He reached for the letter with his name on it, absent-mindedly flicking a soggy flake of cereal off the corner. He watched as it sailed towards the Ravenclaw table, landing in the hood of another student's robes. He should say something, right? Nah, best to keep his mouth shut, they'd probably think he did it on purpose.
Much to his growing disappointment, Lance had been steadily learning that the other houses held a very strong bias against Slytherin, particularly the Gryffindors. Sure, he'd learned of Slytherin house's dark reputation, but what did they expect? The ambitious are often mistaken for power-hungry or ruthless by those who don't share their drive. Plus, there had been plenty of bad apples that came out of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses. In fact, in Lance's personal experience, the rudest and most arrogant students at the school were all Gryffindors. He was yet to meet a Gryffindor student that didn't rub him the wrong way.
Lance was supposed to be making friends this year, meeting as many new and interesting people as he could. He'd been making great progress with Hunk who had even introduced Lance to a few of his friends. The Hufflepuff boy had warmed up considerably in their shared charms class. Plus, Lance had clicked with his girlfriend right off the bat.
But how could he not? Shay and Hunk were probably the two nicest people Lance had ever met in his life. They genuinely seemed to care about everyone and their friend group reflected that. Pidge, the Ravenclaw girl from the train, was an absolute riot, though a little mean at times. She picked at Grumpy-Puss constantly, teasing and mocking him relentlessly every chance she got. Most of the time it was funny, and the group laughed along, but Lance was a natural legilimens and he had a sneaking suspicion Keith's laughter wasn't always genuine. Sometimes he'd get snippets of deep-seated hurt reverberating from Keith, but as soon as Lance would try to focus on those feelings, the door to Keith's mind would slam shut, triple bolting and locking him out.
But Keith was no floundering damsel, he could dish it right back.
Shaking off his meandering mind, Lance went to open the envelope and finally got a good look at it. It was red. Bright red and rapidly warming in his hands.
Miguel had sent him a howler. Meirda! (Shit!)
Lance stared in disbelief at the letter as he tried to process what this meant. He was just about to stuff it in his bag, deciding to open it in a private hall or bathroom, when a Gryffindor student reached across the Slytherin table and plucked the envelope right out of his hand.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here," he teased, "looks like someone's been very naughty. What did you do, little snake?" He passed the envelope back to Lance, wiggling it in front of his face as he continued to taunt him, "well, go on then, open it up."
Lance reached for the red letter, grasping nothing but air as it was lifted right out of his fingertips. The obnoxious Gryffindor boy laughed as he lowered it again, gesturing for Lance to take the card, but immediately yanking it away as he did so. Lance scowled at him and the Gryffindor boy laughed harder yet, his friends joining in. Some of the Slytherins told them off, threatening jinxes and hexes and bad luck as they jumped to Lance's defence. But the seventh-year Gryffindor just rolled his eyes and pretended to be afraid; his piss-poor acting was over-the-top and dramatic.
"Oh dear," he mocked, "whatever will I do? How will I go on knowing I've upset Slytherin house?" he waited all of two seconds before bursting into ruckus laughter with his posse.
"Just give him the fucking card back, Thomas," a voice said from across the room and Lance looked up to see that Keith was standing at the Gryffindor table, glaring at this boy, Thomas, with a remarkable mix of disinterest and frustration. "Stop being a dick, you'll cost Gryffindor points if any of the Professors find out."
"Since when do you care, Kogane?" Thomas spat back, but his little game was over, he'd lost the support of the room. With a sneer, he tossed the envelope at Lance's head. "Have fun with that, snake."
Lance rolled his eyes and muttered "cabrón" ("asshole") under his breath as he picked up the letter. During the commotion, Mordisquito had stalked his way back to Lance's side and was now perched on his shoulder, digging in his talons and picking at Lance's perfectly styled hair. Lance swatted at him and received a nip to the finger, blood welling to the surface. Perfect , just how he'd wanted his morning to start.
There was no hiding the howler now, everyone already knew he'd received it so he may as well get it over with. With a resigned sigh, he popped the seal on the envelope and watched it fly into the air, animatedly forming a mouth as the familiar voice of his childhood best friend filled the great hall.
"Lance Alejandro Delgado-McClain," it started, and anyone who hadn't been paying attention before was definitely staring now. " ¡Cómo te ATREVES a pasar una semana en Hogwarts y no enviar una sola carta a tus amigos!¿Nos has olvidado? ¡Si Mordisquito regresa sin una carta tuya, gafaré tu regalo de Navidad! Sam y Tyler saludan. Escríbenos, pendejo."
("Lance Alejandro Delgado-McClain! How DARE you spend a week at Hogwarts and not send a single letter to your friends! Have you forgotten us? If Mordisquito comes back without a letter from you I will jinx your Christmas present! Sam and Tyler say hi. Write to us, asshole.")
At the final words, the letter burst into flames, raining ashes into the remainder of his frosted flakes. Not that Lance was going to finish them, there were still feathers floating in the bowl.
The sun was shining for the first time this week. Lance had gotten so accustomed to the overcast skies that actual sunlight was a welcome surprise, even if it was nearing sunset. The evening temperatures were beginning to dip and he could feel the shift in the air around him as a cool breeze lifted his cloak from his ankles, fluttering it behind him as he walked. Lance had been warned by Simon that it was still midge season in Scotland and as he stepped out the castle doors he drew his wand in preparation.
"Citrosa Patronum." Lance uttered the spell with a half-hearted lack of gusto, aiming the wand ahead of himself. He hadn't heard it used at this school thus far, but it was one he'd become very familiar with back at Ilvermorny. He'd been bitten several times already and Lance was already over it. Never again! He'd used this spell many times to hold off mosquitos in Massachusetts and it had always worked well for him.
As a form of the Patronus charm, a softly glowing pale-yellow shield erupted from the tip of his wand forming a trumpet-like cone that gave off a pleasantly fresh lemony scent. The light citronella smell coupled with the beautifully bright sunset had Lance's mood lightening and he felt his smile return to him as he crossed the grounds.
The Hogwarts Owlery was located at the top of the West Tower and Lance trudged his way up an obscene amount of stairs. Honestly, why didn't the wizarding world have escalators? They were capable of literal magic, why hadn't anyone thought of this? Pausing on what was absolutely the one billionth step, Lance stared at the old stone tower. Someone had to be the first to create each spell they used right? Even the ones that had been around for centuries had to have been created by someone . Why not him? How incredible would it look if Lance showed up at Hogwarts and, within less than a month of arriving, he'd created his own charm?
It would catch on too, escalators are super convenient and people are super lazy. They were absolutely everywhere in the NoMaj world. He could be rich. He could be famous !
Taking a seat on the steps of the owlery tower, Lance ran his hand along the old, worn, sandstone. If he was going to do this, create a spell of his own, he'd need a level head to piece it all together. Spell creation was a notoriously dangerous endeavour. More advanced Witches and Wizards than himself had lost their lives to experimentations gone awry. But Lance was going to be careful. He was going to take his time, be meticulous, and patiently work until he was certain he'd gotten it right. Then, and only then, would he begin testing his creation.
Lance drew his wand and pointed it at the stone steps, letting his arm get a feel for different movements, sampling motions from spells he'd mastered years ago. He knew from charms class back at Ilvermorny that the wand movement was just as important as the spell itself, a kind of accompanying interpretive dance of the wrist. So, what motion portrayed moving stairs?
Lance flicked his wrist forward, trying out a gesture. It was good, but not good enough , something was missing. Studying the steps in front of him, he pondered their structure and design. The worn centers of the steps; the more polished areas of heavier traffic; the pie shape that narrowed near the central column as the steps wound their way up the West Tower.
Lance traced their layout with his wand, back and forth, from step to step, simultaneously moving forward and rising. That felt right, it felt like taking the stairs themselves and shooting them ahead. This was way easier than Lance had expected. Either spell creation wasn't nearly as complex as people made it out to be, or he was amazing at creating spells. Both Professors Ryner and Smythe had called him a charms prodigy and he could totally see why.
Now for the hard part; the incantation.
Lance wanted to command the staircase to move, which meant he'd need two command words: one for moving and one for what was to be moving. Simply using a general command for movement could affect the structure as a whole since it was all connected. What Lance needed was to isolate the staircase itself from the rest of the tower. He could do that. He just needed to concentrate.
Lance thought hard about spells that made things rise, move, or change; ruling out charms such as Leviosa and Locomotor, but also Ascendio since he didn't want to just shoot straight up into the air. Eventually, he settled on 'motus' as his command word, confident it was vague enough that he could set the direction with the wand motion but still clearly a command to move and not fly, hover, or relocate in some way.
Next, Lance thought about how to narrow down what would move. He couldn't just say Motus Staircase after all. As he'd said, he could do this, easy peasy! He just needed to think and be patient.
"Okay," he said aloud, speaking to himself as he shifted on the empty staircase. Lance rested his back against the stone hand-wall and gently scratched his iguana's head, "what are we trying to accomplish, Blue? Magic escalator, good! But, what is an escalator?" Lance verbally worked out the bits and pieces, speaking his thoughts out loud to himself as he broke down his intentions to their base parts. An escalator, after all, is nothing more than a metal staircase with motors and gears and other contraption-y NoMaj stuff. Without its movement, it's just a set of metal stairs. So, what is the word for stairs?
"ESCALAE!" Lance cried out, jumping to his feet and stumbling against the waist-high stone wall as Blue angrily clung to his robes. The answer had been staring him in the face this whole time! Of course, the root word for escalator would also be the word for staircase. Sometimes the NoMajs were more clever than Wizards gave them credit for.
Pulling out his wand, Lance felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His arm was shaking with excitement at the creation of his first spell. He aimed his wand down at the stone steps and moved it in the zig-zag-flick motion he'd practiced a moment earlier. Start on the left - zig to the right - zag back to the left - and flick forward with a slight upturn at the end. PERFECT!
Composing himself and taking a deep, steadying breath, Lance prepared to pair the incantation he'd settled on with the wand movement, ready to begin training the magic to take hold and eventually move him upward to his destination. As he zigged right, Lance said " MO-", pausing before he continued.
He'd nearly gotten too caught up in the moment! Lance gave his head a shake. What had be thinking? He needed to stop and practice the incantation and the wand movement separately before he even DREAMED of putting them together.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
A snicker from behind startled him and Lance squeaked slightly in surprise. No - no, not squeaked - he didn't react at all. Nope, nothing, not a peep. He was totally cool.
Turning around, Lance watched as a pale boy with dark, shaggy hair came around the twisting steps; his red and gold tie fluttering over his shoulder in the wind. Behind him was a small girl with messy blonde hair riding on the shoulders of a much larger boy with brown hair and skin.
"Grumpy-Puss! Pidge! Hunk!" Lance exclaimed. He threw his arms wide but Keith stopped a few steps away, staring at him awkwardly. Okay, then, not a hugger, got it. Lance pouted slightly as he let his arms fall. From the corner of his eye, he thought he caught Keith smirking.
"Are you just heading back down now?" Hunk asked, "Didn't you leave the Great Hall, like, almost an hour before us?"
An hour? Lance had been sitting on these steps for an hour already? How the time doth fly …
"And what were you doing?" Pidge jumped in, "Sounded like you were about to cast a spell."
"Probably trying to jinx the steps or something," Keith mocked as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And stop calling me Grumpy-Puss!"
"Sure thing, Mullet," Lance smiled innocently at Keith's growing scowl. Despite his best efforts, Keith was incredibly expressive. Pidge piped up again, asking what Lance had been attempting to accomplish and he hesitated as he met her curious gaze.
Explaining his brilliant plan, especially to a Ravenclaw, would open it up for her to figure out first and potentially beat him to the punch. Thus making her the famous Escalator-Witch and leaving him behind, wasting away in a dusty old armchair as he complained to anyone who'd listen that HE'D been the one to create that spell! Lance could practically feel his soon-to-be legacy slipping through his perfectly manicured fingers at her inquisitive stare.
Instead of explaining, Lance shrugged and muttered something about being tired and heading back to his common room. Pidge narrowed her suspicious eyes at him but otherwise dropped the subject as Hunk complained about the standing making his back sore and began climbing once again, bidding Lance farewell with a clap on the shoulder as he passed.
Lance waved goodbye and turned back to find Keith still standing in the same place, an odd look morphing his handsome face.
"Wouldn't it have been faster to just walk up the stairs or use a levitating charm instead of trying to create a new spell?" Keith asked, folding his arms as he rose a single step closer. Lance stared back in confusion. How did Keith know what he was doing?
"What makes you think that's what I was doing? I thought you said I was jinxing the steps?" He sassed, mimicking Keith's stance by crossing his arms over his chest as he met his stare.
With an exaggerated eye roll, Keith rose another step. "Oh please. I could hear you talking to yourself you weirdo."
Lance laughed, letting his head fall back as he rested it against the iguana securely wrapped around his shoulders. "Oh, Mullet. I know paying attention to your surroundings is hard sometimes, but I'd like to draw your attention to my good friend, Blue." He scratched her head at the introduction and smiled broadly, innocently.
"More like only friend." Keith teased and Lance had to admit this was starting to teeter the line between their normal banter and genuinely hurtful.
He decided to play it off and rolled his eyes as he stepped closer, now standing only one step away from Keith. "I'm working on that actually," he replied. "I'd like to say I have Simon, James, Hunk, Shay, Pidge, and even you as friends soon enough."
"Good luck with that, Slytherin." Keith smirked at him. "Just climb the stairs next time, it's faster." That was far from the point. Keith clearly didn't get it.
"Not the point, Mullet," he replied and Keith's face fell back into his signature scowl. "You're such a Gryffindor, just charge ahead with no thought for any other options."
"Oh, please, like you know anything about the houses, transfer student! " He mocked and Lance had to admit that one stung a little. But he smiled broadly nonetheless, refusing to let Keith see the button he'd just hit.
Lance squared his shoulders and stood tall, proudly matching Keith eye to eye as the Gryffindor began to climb the steps once again. As he moved to walk past Lance, Keith paused on their shared step. He continued to look over his shoulder, holding Lance's stare at an even closer proximity. From here Lance could fully see the depths of Keith's sparkling purple irises. They had tiny bits of gold in them, reflecting the early evening light beautifully. He really was stunning; too bad he'd proven to be such a dick.
"Oh, and by the way, the word for 'staircase' is 'scalae', not 'escalae'. Why don't you try Accio Dictionary next time." Keith jabbed. He smiled as he continued on his way, disappearing around the curve of the tower.
Lance stared dumbfounded back at him. Did Keith just - ughhhh! Yup; dick! Turning heel, he made his way back down the Owlery tower steps in a huff; he'd send Miguel's letter later when he wasn't so … so … affronted!
Lance walked into his Defence Against the Dark Arts class still annoyed. How dare Mullet get under his skin like that. He plopped down at his desk and pulled out his books, setting them in a neat pile as he settled in.
The DADA classroom was a large stone room just like the rest of the various large stone rooms in the castle. Still, there was something about this classroom that made it feel removed from the others. Maybe it was the subject matter, or perhaps the location, either way, there was just something about this class that separated it from the rest of Hogwarts.
"Stare any harder and it might burst into flames!" A pretty voice joked from behind him. Spinning around, Lance swapped the frown of concentration for his winning smile and came face-to-face with a spunky-looking Gryffindor girl. "Nadia," she said, jutting out her hand. He took it, giving a firm but friendly shake.
"The name's Lance," he flirted. Back at Ilvermorny, he'd been known as a shameless flirt, using his charm and charisma to put a pretty little blush on the cheeks of every girl and boy at the school. By the time he'd left, the name 'Loverboy Lance' had spread to the point where even the first years knew the moniker.
Instead of the usual response of a shy blush and or cute giggle, this girl stared blankly at him for a beat too long before chuckling.
"Nice try," she said, "but it's kind of an unspoken rule that Slytherins don't stand a chance with us Gryffindors. You know, 'no fraternizing with the enemy' and all that."
"What about 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'? I definitely wouldn't object to keeping you close," he said with a wink and a heavy textbook came down on his head. Hard.
"OWWW!" Lance objected, spinning around to find a familiar black-haired Gryffindor boy walking past. "Do you guys travel in packs or something," he grumbled under his breath as he rubbed his head, which was starting to throb.
"Prides, actually," Nadia smirked and Lance couldn't help but laugh. Yeah, she'd got him there. He called her clever between chuckles and stuck out his hand once again.
"I'm Lance," he said, starting over with a warm smile.
She smiled back, a slight blush tinging her cheeks as she took his hand and Lance would count that as a win. "Nadia."
"So, what gives me the absolute pleasure of formally meeting you today, Nadia?"
"Careful, Lance, you're teetering dangerously close to flirting again."
"That's my wheelhouse," he teased, winking as he fought back a grin.
She rolled her eyes, but this time he could see the fond smile playing at the corner of her lips and he knew his charm was slowly winning her over. She took the seat beside him, blushing when one of the other Gryffindor girls gave her a strange look, and Lance couldn't help but mentally preen, his earlier funk totally forgotten.
"I - um, I was wondering if you had any room left in that study group. You know, the one you were putting together that was open to anyone. Does that include Gryffindors?"
"OF COURSE!" Lance excitedly exclaimed. "But it's not a tutoring program, you need to bring something to the table yourself. We all help each other."
She nodded along, commenting that it made sense and, well, duh. Of course it made sense, it was Lance's plan. He wasn't running a charity over here. If they wanted to be tutored they could ask their prefects. No, this group was meant to help each other, an equal playing field for all present. One student may be exceptional at Potions, and another at Transfiguration, but they each needed help somewhere. Which begged the question, what did Nadia need help with? And what could she offer in return? They could use someone for Herbology.
"So, Nadia," he smiled, his voice velvety smooth as he maintained his flirty tone, "where do your talents lie?" Her eyes shot wide and she reeled back, leaning out of the shared space between them. What did he say? She looked offended. Playing his words back, Lance sputtered as the innuendo hit him.
"No, nononono, that's not what I meant. Mierda! I just meant, what class, like, what can you offer to the group. I didn't mean to imply -"
Nadia visibly relaxed, starting to chuckle as she stamped her hand across Lance's mouth. "It's fine, I understand what you meant." Lance breathed a sigh of relief, and her hand dropped back into her lap. She took a deep breath and then continued, staring intently down at the parchment paper on her desk. "I could use some help with charms. I spoke with Professor Smythe and he suggested coming to you for tutoring since you had the highest mark in the class and -"
Lance preened under the praise, his back straightened and his chest puffed out. He had the highest mark in the class. He did. Lance! Pride washed through him, it tingled in his veins and made his smile widen to an impossible degree as the words echoed in his head.
"- I know I'm a pretty average student but," she paused to take a breath, moving her eyes to meet his and Lance could fully see the nervous trepidation there, "I really need the help. I tried to ask my friend, Ina, but she's a Ravenclaw and just the worst at explaining things. I think she actually made me more confused than I already was."
"Say no more! I'm happy to help. What are you offering the group in return?"
"I'm pretty good with Divination," she said and Lance shook his head, "okay, um, what about Astronomy? History of Magic? Muggle Studies? Muggle Art? Muggle Music?"
Lance quirked a brow at her, why did she know so much about NoMajs? Er, Muggles - whatever they are called here. Over her shoulder he saw Keith staring at them from the corner of his eyes, a tense scowl firmly cemented on his sharp face. Nadia was still listing classes beside him, the majority including the word 'Muggle', but Lance's attention had moved on.
He matched the intensity of Keith's stare. The purple depths of his eyes swirling with suspicion had Lance absolutely captivated. With a tinkling wave and a flirty smile, he watched a beautiful rosy blush briefly spread across Keith's fine features before the scowl returned. Something about this boy just screamed "challenge" and Lance was here for it. He loved a challenge, he loved pretty boys with sharp jawlines and sparkling eyes, and he'd always had a thing for wanting what he can't have.
"Nadia," he said, cutting off her increasingly desperate rambling. Lance turned back to smile at her, dialling up his charm to its maximum in the hopes that she would simply see this as a kind gesture, an olive branch between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, if you will. "I have a better idea. Meet me in the library after dinner. I'll help you with Charms separately from the study group."
"REALLY? Wait, what's the catch?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
Lance raised his hands, planting an innocent face as he replied "no catch. Not really. I just - I want more friends. Hogwarts isn't like Ilvermorny and I want to meet more people from the other houses. I like surrounding myself with a lot of friends and I don't have that here. It's kind of lonely."
He could see the pity in her kind face and while he absolutely hated that, he'd tolerate it for now. After all, it would get him one step closer to his goal. He'd gain a friend and, hopefully, learn more about Keith in the process.
"Okay. Deal." Nadia responded just as the door to the classroom slammed shut and Professor Thace entered.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was one of his favourite classes here at Hogwarts. It had always been one that he'd enjoyed, but there was something about the way Professor Thace taught that had Lance absolutely enthralled. Even something as silly as an impromptu game of magical-creatures-and-beings-sudden-death-trivia became the highlight of his day.
As the game was announced Lance counted his lucky stars that the Slytherins were with the Gryffindors for this class. He felt a pang of sympathy for the poor Hufflepuff kids going up against the Ravenclaws next period.
"Phew, good thing I'm not a Hufflepuff! Poor bastards!" Nadia whispered between them and Lance audibly choked on a laugh, snorting loudly and covering it with a cough. Nadia patted his back as she smirked conspiratorially. He liked her, he liked her a lot! This was going to be a beautiful friendship.
The trivia started with both houses lining up single file to face off at the front of the classroom and ended with the last-man-standing. Each wrong answer sent you back to your seat to write a report on the creature or being you were unable to identify. Each correct answer earned one point for your house. Lance was standing somewhere near the middle of the Slytherin line, sandwiched between James and Simon.
The rules were simple: Professor Thace would show a slide of a creature or being and they had to name it, give the Ministry Classification Level (if applicable), and provide the best means of defeating it or surviving an encounter.
Lance watched the points rack up for both houses, each side losing members in equal measure. As the class progressed, the two rival houses became more and more competitive. When Gryffindor pulled ahead by two or three points, one of the Slytherin boys made a comment about Professor Thace, head of Gryffindor House, favouring his own students. A comment that, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by said Professor.
He came down hard on both houses, pulling slides of creatures they weren't even to begin learning about until next year and others that were native to extremely remote places, having only been confirmed to exist through one or two spottings. As James was eliminated, Lance stepped forward to face off against …
Ugh, just his luck.
"Good luck, Mullet," Lance teased, smiling broadly at his rival.
Keith scoffed, huffing in annoyance as he replied with an infuriating "You're the one who needs luck, Landon."
Landon? LANDON?
Before he could respond, the click of the projector shutter signalled the reveal of a creature on the board and they turned their heads simultaneously. Immediately Lance grinned a wicked grin of satisfaction, made even more delicious by the look of absolute confusion on Keith's face.
Keith quickly raised his wand, lighting up the tip and beating out Lance for the chance to answer. But that didn't matter and Lance smiled as he watched what he knew would be a losing response. "Uhh," Keith started, "some sort of Goblin?"
"Be more specific, Kogane," their Professor instructed and Keith floundered. He stared back at the image, then back at the Professor, then scowled at Lance who was grinning from ear to ear.
"I don't know, a grey one?"
Lance snickered and lit up his wand, ready to give the answer. "Thanks for the luck, Grumpy-Puss, but I don't need it." Shooting a wink in Keith's direction, Lance turned to the Professor and said "Pukwudgie. No Ministry ranking as they are native to North America. Historically, the Pukwudgie hated humans but they've started to chill out recently. Probably because one of the Ilvermorny houses is named after them. There's no real way to defend against a Pukwudgie other than just, like, hurt it or something. But really you should leave them alone cause they're tricky little buggers and they hold grudges."
"Correct." Professor Thace said, and Lance preened. "One point to Slytherin." Keith glared at him as he exited the queue and returned to his seat, the next student coming to face off against Lance.
He survived three more questions before losing on a creature he'd never heard of. What the heck was a ZouWu anyways? In the end, it was the Gryffindor students who claimed victory and bragging rights.
Losing would normally leave Lance feeling foul, but the look of utter loathing that had swept over Keith's fine features was just too sweet to sour his mood. As they were packing up their books, the entirety of the Gryffindors savouring their teeny-tiny-minuscule little victory, Lance casually walked over to where Keith was seated next to a red-haired boy in his house. He slung his bookbag over his shoulder and leaned down over Keith's desk with both hands, his face coming rather close to Keith's.
"So, Mullet, since you clearly don't know anything about pukwudgies, and I'm obviously the local expert, I'm more than willing to help you with that report of yours." He smiled broadly, grinning down at the sparkling purple eyes that narrowed in annoyance. "You know, for a price," he winked and Keith's eyes shot wide as he choked slightly and blushed.
"Pfft, NO price is worth spending time with a Slytherin," the ginger snarked and Lance looked up to glare at him. Was his name Mullet? No, so why was he jumping in? Before Lance could respond, Keith found his voice.
"I'd rather take my chances with an actual pukwudgie, Landon," he said as he rose from the desk, putting their faces even closer together as he met Lance's stare head-on.
"Ahh, the names LANCE, but suit yourself, Mullet-head. When you're ready to admit defeat, the price just went up. I was going to say join my study group and I'll help you, but now you're gonna have to beg for it."
Keith blushed deliciously as he scoffed and stormed out of the room.
So yeah, Lance's house may have lost, but he'd had a personal victory that was far sweeter.
Unfortunately, the rest of the week went by in a blur of frustration and mounting annoyance. Each time Lance walked into Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, or Alchemy there was a note on the blackboard stating:
"Gryffindor Rules, Slytherin Drools." - Lance McClain
The first few times he saw it Lance had immediately erased it, only for the chalk to rise up and rewrite the message on its own. Keith and a few other Gryffindors found it particularly hilarious and Lance had his suspicions it was him. In retaliation, Lance jinxed Keith's quill to only sign his name as "Keef" which was endlessly amusing. That is until it became an all-out war between the two of them.
Every day Keith called him by a different "L" name, and every day Lance referred to him as Mullet or Grumpy-Puss. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, the look of annoyance on Keith's face gave him a slight rush and the way his right eye would twitch ever so slightly was kind of cute. Not that Keith was cute. He wasn't. Sure, he was arguably very very attractive, Lance had noticed as much the first time they'd ever met, but he was also very very annoying and rude and arrogant and ... well, the list could go on and on and on.
In short, did Lance find Keith attractive? Oh god, yes. Did Lance like Keith? Hell no. Did that stop him from retelling the stories in his letters? Nope, not for a second!
As far as Miguel, Sam, and Tyler were concerned, Lance was having the time of his life. In his letters, he'd gushed about the beauty of the castle, and the majesty of the grounds. He'd also talked about his friendship with Simon, James, Hunk, Shay, and Pidge, and the study group that he'd started. He'd bragged about how well Blue had adjusted, how impressed his Professors were with his skills, and how special the much older school was.
What he'd left out was how much he missed home.
Lance was the social butterfly of the family, he was the one people flocked to. And yet, Rachel had already integrated herself into a group that included girls from her own house, Ravenclaw, as well as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. She'd give him a little smile and wave in the halls when they'd pass each other, but the girls in her group would look at him suspiciously. Lance hated that he was slightly jealous of his little sister. He wanted her to make friends and he was so incredibly proud that she had considering it was something she'd always struggled with.
It just sucked that he was struggling to do the same. Hogwarts was nothing like Ilvermorny. The older school was full to the brim with older mindsets. The students, and even some faculty, held tightly to long-held prejudices. Hogwarts was too segregated by house and class and blood status. As a pure-blood Slytherin, other students were wary of him. As a lower-middle-class immigrant, a select few Slytherins looked down on him. Not a lot, not like he was beneath them or anything, just that he was maybe not quite on their level, so to speak. If that made any sense?
But that would change. Lance's father would be making more money at his new job, propelling them from lower-middle-class squarely into the comfort of upper-middle-class. The other students would come around, he'd just have to try harder to convince them of his innate awesomeness. Obviously. And as for those who refused to let go of their prejudice? Well, Lance didn't want friends like that anyway.
He lay on a dark leather loveseat under the large, thick windows of the Slytherin common room. Laying here, with the dim light shimmering through the murky water, Lance felt removed from the rest of his peers, tucked away in a private little corner just for himself. It was peaceful laying in the low green light, the waves lapping against the top of the window's glass, indistinct shapes moving just beyond his view, and the comfortable hug of a well-worn couch surrounding him as he settled in. The tranquillity of the ocean (or in this case, lake) had always retained a hold over Lance, ever since he was a little boy.
Being partially under the Black Lake was his favourite part of the Slytherin dorms and while the stone walls and floor could feel cold, the spaces were never unwelcoming. Even though he hadn't been having much luck making friends from the other houses, most of his fellow Slytherins were pretty awesome. He just had to remind himself of that. What was that saying in English? "Quality over quantity!"
With a sigh, Lance snuggled in, taking off his scarf and tossing it over the side of the loveseat. In his hands was the letter he'd received just the other day. His back and forth with Miguel no longer involved howlers, thank goodness, but reading about his friend's adventures without being able to partake was slowly taking its toll. Especially when they mentioned Craig.
Craig was Lance's former roommate and a permanent thorn in his side.
He'd apparently joined their group after Lance's departure. There was nothing wrong with Craig, it was just that their personalities had clashed and they'd never really gotten along. He was the reason Lance was so happy with Simon and James. Having roommates he genuinely got along with was incredible, but even though Lance was their friend, it was still very much the two of them plus Lance.
He didn't really have a friend group that was distinctly his yet. He had Simon and James and his study group, and he had Hunk and Shay and even Pidge but his tension with Keith made it so the group didn't often invite him to hang out. His friendship with Nadia was growing, but she was a Gryffindor and the house rivalry ran deep. With a sigh, he pulled out his quill and began writing back to his childhood friend.
When the house-team Quidditch tryouts were announced, Lance was excited to give it a go. On the announcement wall in the main common room, was posted a list of available positions.
Main lineup: 2x Chaser | 1x Keeper
Reserve Lineup: 2x Chaser | 1x Beater | 1x Keeper | 1x Seeker
One spot. That was it. Each team had two Beaters but they also needed backups in case of player injury or game suspensions. Out of a total of four Beater positions, only ONE was open. The chances of getting to play as a reserve player were low, but it would mean he'd still get to go to practices and play in scrimmage games, which was better than nothing!
Lance grabbed his brother's old Nimbus and his flying gear, excitedly racing off towards the pitch.
He'd been late getting back from classes today and soon found he was one of the last to arrive. Throngs of students were gathered by house, signing up at tables for their respective teams in the hopes of getting a position.
Lance spotted Simon and James sitting off to the side and made his way over to them. As he approached he noticed only James was in their school robes, like those who had come as spectators, while Simon was instead wearing the Slytherin team uniform.
"Is that a … Nimbus? " he asked, squinting at the mostly worn-off lettering on the side of Lance's broom. "Mate, I haven't seen one of them since my folks took us to the Museum of Quidditch in London. What are you doing with that relic?" He was chuckling, and the rest of the group laughed along, but Lance felt the heat rising in his cheeks.
This was yet another way in which Hogwarts and Ilvermorny were so very different from one another. Ilvermorny provided all required equipment for Quidditch and Quadpot, including pads, helmets, and even brooms. The only reason Lance had even known he'd need one was due to it having been included on his required supplies list from Hogwarts. This broom had been in the family for years. It had gone from Lance's great aunt Maria to his uncle Carlos to his cousin Horatio to his brother Luis and finally to him. They couldn't afford to buy him a brand new broom and Lance was perfectly happy with this one … mostly.
But Lance wouldn't let anyone else see that. He smiled broadly and gave a mock gasp at Simon as he said "Relic? No, dude, I think you mean classic!"
"More like antique," another boy replied and the girls in their group chuckled at his words. Lance just smiled and winked.
"Antiques are valuable, so I'll take that as a compliment, thanks."
"I wouldn't," the boy snipped and Lance turned to shoot back, but Simon cut him off.
"Well, good thing Lance isn't you, Nigel. Lord knows none of us would want to be."
The group's laughter shifted from Lance's expense to Nigel's, the others joining in on the light ribbing, and Lance smiled at Simon. He mouthed "thanks" and caught Simon's acknowledging wink. Simon slowly rose from the blanket, getting to his feet to reach for his slick, fancy broom. He turned and headed back to the tryouts, tugging Lance along as he waved goodbye to James.
Lance added his name to the signup sheet under the position of Beater and moved to stand in line with the others as the team gathered around. The two team captains took their place in front of the group, ready to address them all. When he looked, he noticed they were Simon and a girl whose name Lance didn't know, even though he'd seen her around the common room a few times.
"Welcome hopefuls!" Simon announced. "A few things to note before we begin our tryouts for this year's lineup. First, we will not be accepting anyone for the role of backup Seeker even though it was already advertised. Sorry. Secondly, just because you were on the team last year does not guarantee you a spot this year. And thirdly, as you can see we are sharing the pitch with the other houses for these tryouts so try to stay in the designated Slytherin area. It's your own bloody fault if you take a bludger to the head for crossing the lines."
Looking around the pitch, Lance noticed that the other houses were having much the same discussion with their applicants. The Slytherins were at the end by the goalposts, with Hufflepuff beside them, followed by Ravenclaw, and finally the Gryffindors at the goalposts. He couldn't make out who was in attendance for the other houses, except for Hufflepuff; noting that Shay seemed to be their team's Keeper. Good for her! Lance smiled and waved at Hunk sitting in the stands.
"Okay, McClain, you're up!"
Lance took a deep breath, mounted his broomstick, and prepared himself to absolutely own this tryout. He'd been the top beater for Thunderbird, nothing stood in his way! Lance couldn't wait to tell Miguel that he'd made the Slytherin house team.
Lance took another gulp of his Butterbeer. It was warm and made his insides tingly, which helped with the sting of failure.
"Merlin's beard, Lance, how many of those have you had?" James laughed.
"I'm bloody well not carrying his arse back to the common room!" Simon yelled, lifting his own mug to his lips. James mumbled about not carrying either of them back and Lance downed the rest of his drink. This sucked.
"Look on the bright side, McClain, at least you don't have to ride around on that death trap you call a broom." Simon joked, trying to make him feel better.
"Shut up, Hart." He said, shoving Simon's shoulder and watching his friend tumble off the bench, butterbeer in hand. James shot up from his spot across from them, concern clear on his face, but Simon's loud and distinct laughter let him relax and he sat back down with a smirk.
"HA, mate, didn't spill a drop!" he cheered from the floor, holding up his mostly full mug.
Lance laughed, helping pick up his friend, but stealing his mug at the last minute and drinking the contents himself. Simon sputtered about betrayal and Lance grinned as he placed the empty mug on the table. "I'm helping get you back to the dorms," he winked, using the back of his hand to wipe the foam from the corner of his mouth.
"Cheeky git." Simon laughed, still on the floor.
Blue sat on Lance's chest, leaning her weight on his throat as she helped keep Bianca at bay, though he didn't know how much of a help she was actually being considering he could barely breathe. More than once Lance had woken up to a scratchy cat tongue licking the butterbeer from his cheeks, chin, and even lips! He'd swatted at her but the beast's claws were super sharp! That's when Blue had crawled down from the canopy of Lance's four-poster bed, cementing herself as his guardian.
He groaned, pushing her off his windpipe and promptly fell back asleep.
Bored.
So, so, so bored. Muy aburrido (very bored).
Lance had probably never been this bored before in his entire life. Once upon a time, Professor Binns had literally bored himself to death and it sure seemed as if he were bound and determined to doom Lance to much the same fate. Maybe if he counted the cracks in the stone walls he could stave off his demise a little longer.
So, by the end of class, Lance knew there were three hundred and forty-nine cracks in the walls of classroom 4F. At least the walls that were within Lance's view. Maybe next class he'd sit on the other side of the room, switch up his perspective a bit and hopefully be able to count new cracks! Ugh, the fact that the prospect of counting cracks in the wall was something to look forward to was just plain sad.
History of Magic had FINALLY ended and Lance had been mere seconds away from falling asleep yet again. Maybe counting things wasn't the best choice for a time killer.
Today their Alchemy class was going to be learning about the infamous Philosopher's Stone and Lance did not want to be late. He rushed through the corridors, as quickly as possible, breezing past other students as he danced between them. Though he was still mildly groggy, he made great time and managed to only bump into two walls, four fellow students, and one suit of armour.
Plopping into his seat with a gasping breath, Lance took in the empty classroom. Where was everyone? There's no way he'd made that good of time.
"BOLLOCKS!"
Lance spun around to find Keith scowling at Professor Honerva's empty desk, a heavy book bag slung over his left shoulder, pulling his black and crimson robes off-center.
"Where is everyone?" Lance asked. The sound of his voice drew Keith's gaze to the only other person in the room. At the sight of him, Keith's whole face screwed up even more, his brow furrowing into his signature scowl. "Nice to see you too, Mullet."
"Oh, fuck off, Lachlan." Keith spat. "I'm trying to think!"
"Oh, well, I'll leave you to it. Trying anything for the first time can be hard." He sassed, picking up his books and rising from the desk. Lance made his way across the room and stopped in front of Keith, an idea coming to his mind. "Think we could apparate to class?"
"No."
"Why not? I bet we could! We're both doing pretty well in the elective."
"Are you daft?" Keith asked, his expression shifting to absolute befuddlement. "You can't apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts."
"We do for class all the time."
"Well, yeah, but that's because the barrier is lifted in the Great Hall specifically for that class. Besides, even if we could, we'd still need to know where to apparate to."
"Oh, right."
"Yeah."
As the silence stretched between them, Lance had no idea where to go or what to do or how to proceed. He loved this class and he didn't want to miss it. But he also had no idea where they were meant to go.
"MY MAP!" he shouted, realization dawning. Keith quirked a brow as Lance scrounged in his bag for the piece of parchment, pulling it out to reveal the intricate map he'd created.
A low whistle sounded over his shoulder, but Lance ignored him as he opened up the crumbled page. Looking at the map, Lance spotted his Alchemy class marker jump from its usual place.
"There," Keith said, pointing to a spot on the map from his side. "They're down by the Black Lake."
Suddenly, the memory hit him like an anvil. Of course they were down by the lake, Professor Honerva had mentioned studying water affinities at their source. The Philosopher's Stone was after they finished the elements. DIOS MIO! They were studying water affinities and Lance was missing it!
Grabbing hold of Keith's slim wrist, Lance spun on his heel and dashed down the empty stone corridor. Occasionally Keith would object to their direction, but Lance just ignored him. He didn't have the map, Lance did. He didn't know the fastest route, Lance did. He explained this but Keith continued to argue, so Lance continued to ignore him.
As they reached the back steps leading down from the castle grounds to the lake, Lance realized they weren't going to make it. They were going to be so late that they'd miss the majority of the class. They'd need a bloody miracle to make it on time. Wait - why did that sound like Keith's voice? Oh, right, Keith was talking.
"Shut up, Mullet," Lance snapped, "I have a solution." Though he sounded confident, Lance was anything but. He took in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and called for Keith to hold on tight.
He'd been practicing the incantation, coupling it with the wand movement and slowly working to build up the command. There was a short set of stairs, only two steps high, just outside the hospital wing where Lance had taken to practicing his new spell. And, if he was being totally honest, it was probably the best possible place to practice considering how dangerous spell creation could be.
All that aside, he pulled out his wand and took a deep, steadying breath. This was it, this was the one true test of a spell he hadn't yet perfected. Dios Mio, he hoped this worked. Or at the very least he hoped it didn't kill them.
" Motus Scalae!" he shouted, flicking his wrist with the practised movement. The moment his foot touched the stone steps Lance was shot down the hillside, yanking Keith along behind him. Amid Keith's screams of panic, Lance could feel his adrenaline spike. He'd done it! He'd actually done it! Sure, they were moving way too fast to stop safely, but his spell had worked! Nothing, nothing , could dampen the high of this moment. He'd remember this feeling for the rest of his life. He, Lance Alejandro Delgado-McClain, had created his own spell. Just wait till Miguel and Tyler and Sam find out! Wait till he tells his parents! Wait till he tells the world!
When they reached the bottom of the steps, the momentum sent the both of them tumbling to the ground. Lance landed in a pile of limbs, tangled up with Keith at the foot of their peers and absolutely covered in dirt and quite possibly blood. He could feel some fresh cuts and scrapes and the ache of what would definitely develop into some bold bruises.
"Lance McClain and Keith Kogane. Fifteen points from BOTH your houses for your inability to arrive on time." Professor Honerva was saying. "And another fifteen points for disrupting class. Now, join the rest of your classmates as I explain, once again, the practice exercise for today. I want you to see me after dinner for your punishment; you will both be receiving detention."
Lance groaned in frustration, and Keith grumbled under his breath, but the two boys quickly scurried over to join the group.
"McClain," Lotor harshly whispered at him as he took his place amongst the other Slytherins.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Lance quickly placated. "We went to the wrong spot then had to rush here." From what he could see, an older Gryffindor Prefect was giving Keith much the same talking to and Keith scowled out over the lake as he ignored the scolding.
"You need to keep better company. That Mudblood is going to get you a lot more than detention if you keep hanging around him." Lotor chastised. "He always acts up and you're going to lose more points for Slytherin."
Lance looked up at Lotor in confusion. He hadn't heard the term Mudblood before, but Lance knew an insult when he heard one. He ventured a glance over his shoulder. Keith was sitting on the rocks, separate from the other students. He didn't look like a troublemaker, he just looked lonely. The other Gryffindors picked at him for costing them points, the odd condescending remark just loud enough for the wind to carry to Lance's listening ears. He felt bad for the boy and even though Lance didn't want to disappoint one of his house's prefects, he didn't want to abandon Keith either. Especially not when it looked like everyone else had.
He turned back to Lotor and smiled his winning smile. "Well, I have to get through this detention first," he answered and Lotor nodded in understanding.
"I'll talk to my mum. I'm sure I can convince her to go easy on you considering the situation." Lotor smiled down at him but Lance was still confused. What situation? He didn't understand, but he knew better than to argue so he kept his mouth shut, offering his thanks instead.
"Pidge, can I borrow Archie?"
Lanced up from his dinner to see Keith standing at the Ravenclaw table, his black and crimson robes out of place amongst the black and blue surrounding him. Perking up, Lance focused on the conversation, trying to eavesdrop without being obvious. Based on the queer look he was receiving from Simon, Lance was clearly failing.
"State your purpose. Archimedes is not flying to Japan again for you. It's too far, Keith." Pidge scolded and Keith groaned in annoyance.
"I know, I already said I'm sorry."
"Where are you sending my baby?" she demanded.
"Not far. Promise."
"Cryptic." A boy piped up from further down the Ravenclaw table and Keith scowled at him.
"Shut up, Matt."
"Don't be mean to Matt -"
"Yeah, don't be mean to me."
"- or I won't let you borrow my precious boy."
"It's just an owl, Pidge. Please!"
"Just an owl?" She stared at him in shock. Matt piped up suggesting that if Keith didn't fully appreciate Archimedes, then he'd lost his owl-borrowing privileges. It seemed like Pidge was inclined to agree. Lance didn't know what Keith wanted the owl for, but he did know the fresh stitches on the boy's forehead were a direct result of his uncompleted spell sending them toppling down the hillside and he kind of felt bad about that.
Lance smiled at Keith and watched his brow furrowed in confusion. He was clearly expecting a comment of some sort, waiting for Lance to chime in. But Lance wasn't giving it. Instead, he piped up to change the subject. "Hey, Keith, we should probably head for Professor Honerva's office now, don't you think?"
"Uh, yeah," Keith hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
But that didn't matter. Lance had figured him out. Less was more with Keith, he knew that now. Instead of playing into this little back-and-forth, Lance rose from his seat and began making his way to the exit. It wasn't long before the sound of hurried footfalls caught up to him, Keith grumbling under his breath as he fell into step beside Lance.
Lance crawled under the silky covers of his four-poster bed. Blue was safely nestled in the canopy above him and Bianca was curled up at his feet, evidently still holding a grudge against James who was in her bad books for having stepped on her tail in the dark two days ago. The waves lapped against the porthole windows and the sound of the water soothed him to the edge of sleep.
Tomorrow he'd be stuck cleaning and polishing every old award, trophy, statue, cup, plate, plaque, shield, and medal in the trophy room with Keith. It was a punishment that was likely going to take several days to complete and, as much as Lance hated to give up his precious free time, especially to do menial labour in a locked room with someone who seemingly despised him, he was looking forward to reading all the names and searching for potential family members. After all, the McClains had originally been from Scotland and had attended Hogwarts.
He couldn't wait to find something with his great great grandfather, or a great great great great uncle on it. He'd put that in a letter back to Miguel for sure!
As sleep overtook him, Lance thought not about how he'd failed to make the quidditch team or how he'd gotten detention for the foreseeable future, or even how he'd potentially embarrassed himself at dinner. But instead, he slipped soundly into dreams of praise and adoration; his thousands - no, MILLIONS, of adoring fans fainting at the sight of him. They'd clamour over one another for the chance to take their picture with the infamous Escalator-Wizard. Lance could already see his portrait hanging in the Slytherin common room for centuries to come. A proud, accomplished, and famous wizard.