XIV. THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL
I've never liked Christmas.
I mean, I like snow-mostly, hitting people in the face with it, but...I don't know.
I was almost never-I was never at the same foster house on December 25th and, I guess, being surrounded by strangers who would dump me in a month or two kind of killed the spirit of the season. My foster parents never knew me well enough to get me decent presents either, or things I actually liked at the time, and sometimes I didn't get anything at all. I mean, some of the people I was placed with tried, they did, but it just never really worked out.
But then, sixty-six days/two months and five days after they first took me in, I spent my first Christmas(and Hanukkah-Dakota's mother is Jewish but her father isn't so, growing up, they blended traditions; Alistair isn't really religious, while Dakota prefers to practice her religion/Judaism in her own way as a private thing, but, whenever Alistair's mum's anywhere in earshot, he's a devout Christian-and doesn't spend his Sunday's eating pizza and bingeing Star Trek with me in our pyjamas; while basically being agnostic, Alistair does respect his mum and his wife's respective religions, he just personally prefers a more Darwinism/science-y belief system)with Alistair and Dakota at a huge family gathering they took me to at Dakota's mother's house(who, much like Alistair's mum or 'Granny', insisted that I call her 'Bubbe' like the rest of her grandkids and stuffed me full of brisket, sufganiyot, and latkes because I was looking a bit 'peaky'). Some of Alistair's family even came over from Scotland(which really brought out his accent; it's one thing hearing the abrupt hysterical switch when he's on the phone to his siblings and his mum, but seeing them all together and how he acts is a whole new level of hilarious)-and it was colourful, and rowdy, and-
And the best Christmas I've ever had.
Not because of the family gathering, that part was super awkward...but because of the present they gave me when we got back to their house.
Adoption papers.
I hadn't even been with them for all that long, but Alistair said that they knew the moment they met me that they wanted me to be part of their family.
Something about my The Clash band shirt and snarky attitude, I figure.
(my file somehow got accidentally mixed up with the infant/toddler ones they were being shown, and after reading it...they couldn't just walk away; Dakota once said that I didn't have to think of them as my parents if I didn't want to-they could just be my guardians, or 'those people that live in my house', or whatever; she and Alistair just wanted to give me a safe place, and get me out of a system that failed me-not out of any ulterior motives, but because they're just genuinely kind, compassionate, good people...a concept that I still have trouble grasping sometimes).
Last year, we spent Hanukkah with Dakota's side of the family before flying to Scotland to finish the holiday season with Alistair's-and, despite the complicated feelings I have for most family-orientated holidays, I actually had a lot of fun(I'd never left England before-despite travelling from city to city whenever I was dumped in a new foster house, or been on a plane, so that was a new experience).
This year, Granny's coming over from Scotland to stay with us(along with two of Alistair's brothers; Alistair came from a big family, like Ron, with three brothers-two older, one younger-and an older and younger sister all raised under one roof by a single mother-which pretty much makes her superwoman in my books because I can barely keep a turtle alive, let alone six kids; the fact that I've done so well with Illyius is all thanks to the Owlery, how self-sufficient he is, and 'cause I love that bird more than anyone or anything on this earth-I've only had him for a few months, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this castle and then myself-), so we're going to be at Bubbe's for the holidays again.
(out of self-preservation, no one is telling Granny that my boarding school is in Scotland but that she can't visit and I can't go see her; Muggle or not, she'd find a way to barge into the castle and twist my ear-and Dumbledore's; hell hath no fury like Amelia Morrissey).
For a second there, I was almost weirdly excited this year.
I had this picture in my mind of dragging Harry into the craziness that is Hanukkah-mas with the Morrisseys and their mad extended family, stuffing my face with sufganiyot(they're jelly doughnuts deep-fried in oil, filled with jam or custard, then topped with powdered sugar-Bubbe's sufganiyot are so, crazy delicious-), and maybe feeling a little less awkward than I usually do.
(I'm still not really used to being part of their family-I'm not sure I ever really will be-but I'm getting there, painstakingly; I've been making so much progress lately, and I have friends and everything-something that is actually a really big deal for me, not that Harry or any of them knows that; I think, in a way, I used Hogwarts and Harry as a chance to reinvent myself, seeing as all the Muggles I know were there when I was-the way I was-and it was too hard for me to snap out of that mindset with them, whereas here it's like a-clean slate).
Either way, with Harry there, it would be awesome.
I could just see us joking around, trying a mixture of Jewish and British food, watching Bubbe light her menorah(she lights each candle during the eight nights of Hanukkah but also relights it on Christmas when everyone gets together and sets it up proudly on the dining table)-and Granny scold Alistair for wearing his cross(which he'd hastily grab on the way out the door, seeing as he doesn't really wear it as a "man of science!")backwards, and exchanging presents.
But, because I guess I jinxed myself, that bubble popped.
In other words, Harry told me that he wanted to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.
It took him days to work up the courage, but I knew it was coming-in that unnerving way I always seem to pick up on things and just know.
At first, I thought I was wrong-I was just so caught off guard.
I mean, when Dakota and Alistair wrote asking Harry if he'd like to spend the holidays with us, he was so happy.
Like me, he'd never had that big family Christmas with people that actually want you around, and the very idea of that...
When he finally admitted he wanted to stay at the castle, I was almost angry at him-but then I looked at him, really looked, and I realised where this was all coming from. A part of the reason why I wanted Harry to come so badly, aside from this being our first Christmas together since we were babies, was so I wouldn't feel so out of place. I didn't even think that he might feel the same way.
See, when I said we went bowling two days before we boarded the Hogwarts Express, I left out the fact that it was to celebrate me being with the Morrisseys for two years(early, seeing as I was at Hogwarts when the anniversary actually hit back in October; they wanted to do something special seeing as I don't really like celebrating conventional holidays-aside from Halloween, which has a special place in my cold dead heart). I was having so much fun that I didn't notice how on the outside Harry felt in that moment. I mean sure, he likes Dakota and Alistair a lot, but at the end of the day he was just a guest in their home-I was their daughter.
I didn't even realise it bothered him that much.
The last thing Harry wanted to do was to spend our first Christmas together(technically second, including baby us)feeling like he was intruding and, as disappointed and on the spot as I felt, I've intruded on enough Christmas'-with enough happy families-to get where he was coming from.
In the end, after writing a long letter to my adoptive parents to ask for advice about what to do(they felt so bad when they realised how Harry had been feeling-the last thing they wanted was to make him feel like an outsider to our happy little family, but there wasn't a lot they could do about that), I found myself signing up to stay at the castle too-and, as guilty as he felt about it, I could tell Harry was relieved and not-so-secretly happy that I'd decided to spend Christmas with him.
Dakota partially pressured me into it-not because she and Alistair don't miss me like crazy, but because they didn't want to come between me and Harry spending our first/second Christmas together actually together. They got how dysfunctional our situation is, and how we're kind of figuring things out as we go(it's not like there's a 'How To Bond With Your Estranged Twin After Being Separated By Your Asshole Relatives After The Murder Of Your Parents Via. Power-Hungry Dark Wizard' handbook), so if Harry felt more comfortable spending the holidays at Hogwarts-which is kind of like neutral territory-then, as much as they want me back in Ipswich, they couldn't bring themselves to stop me from joining him.
Then there's Nicolas Flamel and the aftermath of Harry's Nimbus(now dubbed 'the Scotch tape Killer', or 'Killer' for short, by yours truly)going mental and trying to do him in-to no fault of a certain Potions Master.
On the upside, Flint didn't throw me off the team for attacking him(he just took it out on me during our next practice-his vindictive streak, once again, sending me to the hospital wing and a disgruntled Madam Pomfrey).
In fact, ever since my first match, I've been getting loads of attention-and, unlike all the Girl Who Lived BS, I've been revelling in it. I mean, with all the stuff I deal with, I think I deserve to enjoy the compliments I've been getting for my, dare I say, incredible performance. I've been working my ass off for weeks and it paid off-I deserve to be proud about that(even Malfoy was impressed-and a bit richer after he won the betting pool seeing as Harry technically fell off his broom, more or less, while he was coughing up the Golden Snitch on all fours).
I even overheard Fred and George telling McGonagall about our 'non-verbal agreement' that I'd be Sorted into Gryffindor and how it meant I should be immediately transferred(and that I could play back-up Beater or something-as long as I'm not on the Slytherin team).
McGonagall actually seemed half-tempted.
Besides, with Harry Ron and Hermione driving me up the wall, all of the drama around Christmas, and everything else I needed something good to focus on.
Ever since Hagrid's slip-up, Harry Ron and Hermione have been tearing the school library apart searching for the identity of Nicolas Flamel(they were too paranoid to ask Madam Pince just in case it 'got back to the professors')-and, as far as they know, I have been too.
I haven't.
If anything, I've been trying to not find him.
When I looked at Hagrid...that stuff about the Stone(which is likely what Fluffy's guarding-what it really is, or does, I couldn't tell you, and I'm not entirely sure I want to know)and Dumbledore and Flamel being partners that have worked together, likely in the field of alchemy(after leaving Hagrid's, I pieced together the brief flash of information I'd plucked from his min-that I'd figured out on my own from pre-existing facts, because mind-reading isn't a thing)...it's crazy.
Me knowing all that, knowing about Fluffy's name seconds before Hagrid said it, with a look is crazy.
Mind-reading, is crazy!
It doesn't help that, ever since Hagrid's, it's been harder to pretend I'm not hearing things.
I feel so bloomin' mental and there's nothing I can do about it-which, in a lot of ways, is the worst part.
Being so bloody helpless against whatever's happening to me.
I'll admit it, I'm scared.
I guess that's why, whenever I'm confronted with this thing, I brush it off and bundle myself up in nice, comfortable, familiar denial.
I'd rather be weird than actually crazy.
For all I know, I'm delusional and this is the start of some kind of really nasty mental illness.
Being able to read minds can't be normal, even for witches and wizards.
I feel like I'm going out of my mind.
It's not like I just hear voices, either-that would be too easy. No, I feel things, and see things, and get snippets of things I shouldn't and couldn't know. None of it makes any sense. It's all jumbled up, and confusing, and it's even worse in crowds of teenagers where I can't control this thing and they're all practically hurling whatever's going on in their heads at me like high-velocity baseballs. It's like I'm a walking antenna and, against my will, I'm tuning in to all of the different frequencies around me(that, or skimming the surface of a vast ocean-some oceans being shallower than others *cough* Crabbe and Goyle *cough*).
But, again, I'm not reading minds, I'm just being weird.
Watching how discouraged the others were becoming as November flew by made me feel guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to suggest we search in alchemy-because if we do, and I find tangible proof of what I heard, what I did, that day in Hagrid's hut...I don't want this thing to feel any more real than it already does(it's bad enough I found out that Hermione really did set Snape on fire, just like I 'picked up' that she did, to save Harry-which I probably overheard them mention on the way to Hagrid's or something, because the alternative is just-).
I'm already struggling-I couldn't handle staring the truth in the face, not if it means I'm accidentally reading minds.
If that happens I might very well self-destruct.
It was mid-December by the time the weather finally plunged enough for snow(freezing Black Lake solid-and most of the Slytherins).
The first day I woke up and saw it had snowed, I found myself teaming up with the twins to bewitch snowballs to chase Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. Despite Quirrell's dislike for me(okay, he hates my guts, and it's kind of warranted, but I'm not exactly his biggest fan either, so whatever), I didn't even get in trouble; while they were punished, being the sly Slytherin I am, I was quick to talk myself out of trouble-and promptly pin all the blame on Fred and George.
They were more impressed and amused than anything-and, in retaliation, remorselessly slipped wizarding hot sauce in my dinner to get back at me.
I swear I almost went blind, it was hilarious.
If it was Quirrell that caught us, and not Flitwick(who, for some reason, seems to like my mouthy troublemaking ass), things would've turned out a lot differently.
In other words, the twins would've been the ones to get a slap on the wrist-and I would've been cremated just so Quirrell could dance on my ashes.
As if I wasn't stressed out enough(with Quidditch practice-and Flint's vendetta that luckily only lasted a handful of painful practices, Christmas, Harry Ron and Hermione harassing me to go to the library-an activity they've momentarily ruined for me-they've invaded my happy place, and my impending mental breakdown), because of the weather, Illyius ended up getting sick-which freaked the hell out of me.
Illyius, to me, is like Harry.
He's become...important.
Hagrid had to nurse him back to health in the warmth of his hut, alongside several other owls. He was okay after a day or two, and way better off than some of the other owls, but it still really scared me-to the point that, as soon as he was better, I sent him to the Morrissey's where it was nice and warm, unlike the drafty Owlery, until it was time to deliver my Christmas presents.
Even then, I might send him back to Ipswich until it stops snowing.
It's not much better in the Slytherin common room, which iced over at the beginning of December and just got colder as the month progressed. There have even been literal fights over the fireplace(many of which I may or may not have instigated after practice when I was numb to the bone, bruised to all hell, and just wanted to relax by the fire-and I totally didn't hit a seventh year with my Astronomy textbook...or bite a fourth year...on the upside, when I go over to the fireplace now, it doesn't take long for the smarter Slytherins to piss off-which is why Malfoy and his lot usually follow me into the common room, seeing as I do the heavy-lifting of scaring off the older students and freeing up the fireplace for them).
Shit, more often than not, I've been passing out on the floor in front of the fire with my blankets pulled up over my ears.
How I haven't rolled into the hearth and set myself on fire yet, I have no idea.
Neither has Malfoy, for that matter.
Impossibly, the dungeon's outside the common room are even colder.
From what I've heard, the Hufflepuff common room is always warm and cosy, and I can honestly say I kind of hate those badger pricks for it.
Bloody toasty gits.
That day in potions, I had to huddle close to my nice hot cauldron between Harry and Ron to stay warm, rubbing my hands together and muttering to myself about child abuse and frostbite. I kept my hair down, seeing as it's thick and long which kept my neck and face a bit warmer(plus, I obsessively run my fingers through it, so it's usually down anyway-which Ms Dodds has a lot to say about, I can assure you), and for the first time ever I was wearing my grey uniform sweater.
"I do feel so sorry," I heard Malfoy maliciously remark a desk or so behind us, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."
My face hardened and, despite mentally chanting at myself to not let that blonde prick get to me, that kind of stung-even if it isn't true anymore.
Mentally, I fiercely reminded myself that I was only staying for Harry-even as Crabbe and Goyle chuckled and Malfoy looked straight at us.
Harry ignored him and just kept measuring out his powdered spine of lionfish.
Ever since the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match, Malfoy's been a bigger prat than usual to Harry. Disgusted over Slytherin's loss, he's been making fun of him at every opportunity-and when trying to get people to laugh at how a "wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing him as Gryffindor Seeker next"(which I absolutely did not snort at)failed, because everyone was too impressed by how well Harry stayed on his mad Nimbus, he got all jealous and pissy and went back to spitefully taunting him, and in that me, about not having a proper family. The first time he said something like that, I may or may not've thrown my wand at him.
In my defence, I was drawing a blank, despite having read about loads of nasty hexes I'm sure I could've pulled off-and really, really pissed.
So I just kind of, you know, nailed him in the head with my wand.
"Did you just throw your wand at me?!"
"I don't know-maybe-shut up!"
"Who the hell throws their wand-?!"
"It shut you up, didn't it?"
"You threw your wand at me!"
"Oh, get over it, princess."
"-Excuse me?"
"You're the one whining about something that happened, like, a billion years ago."
"A billion-? It just happened!"
"And you can't stop whining about it-'Jewel Potter threw her wand at me, wah, wah, wah!'"
"I am not whining!"
"-is what someone who's whining would say."
"Where's a mountain troll when you need one?"
"I don't know, why don't you dial up the Ghostbusters and ask them?"
"The what?"
"...Why do I somehow find that more offensive than what you said about me and Harry?"
Somehow, I dodged detention by the skin of my teeth-again, and Harry and Ron got a kick out of it, so I suppose it was worth the embarrassment.
Anyway, suffice to say, Malfoy isn't happy-and when Malfoy isn't happy, he has to make everybody around him unhappy(and by everybody I mean me).
After class, I tried to sneak away-but, swiftlycatching me, Hermione grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me after Harry and Ron.
To cut a long story short, Hermione said something about the library-which meant Nicolas Flamel research-and I attempted to make a break for it.
Making our way down the corridor and out of the dungeons, me grumbling under my breath about kidnapping and bushy-haired dictators, we turned the corner only to stop in surprise when we found ourselves face to face with a huge ass tree.
Spotting the massive feet beneath it, a genuine smile lit my face.
"Hey, Chewbacca!" I called brightly to the wizard panting loudly behind the ridiculously large evergreen. "How's my favourite Wookiee?"
At the same time, Ron stuck his head through the branches.
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?"
Harry and Hermione looked at me weirdly.
Ron glanced back at me in confusion, clearly wondering what a 'Wookiee' is.
I need new friends, these ones are broken.
"I'm doin' fine, Jewel, thanks fer askin'," Hagrid said with a laugh that made the tree shake slightly. "And nah, I'm alright, thanks, Ron."
"Would you mind moving out of the way?"
Hearing the familiar cold drawl of the boy behind us, I fought back a scowl.
"Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley?" he added snidely. "Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose-that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."
At the same time as I furiously spun to retort, Ron dove at Malfoy-
"WEASLEY!"
Snape stopped at the top of the stairs and Ron reluctantly let go of Malfoy's robes.
I grudgingly shut my mouth, which left a sour taste.
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid was quick to defend, sticking his head out from behind the tree, "Malfoy was insultin' his family."
Snape didn't seem particularly moved by that, but he did raise an eyebrow at my clenched fists and the fiery look I was levelling on Malfoy. An unreadable emotion darted across his dark eyes, the corner of his mouth tilting down slightly before levelling out so quickly that I wondered if I'd imagined it.
"Be that as it may," he said, "fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid. Five points-"
"But Ron wasn't fighting, Professor," I interrupted quickly, tilting back on my heels, "he was just-straightening Malfoy's robes for him. They were kinda-uneven."
Malfoy Crabbe Goyle Harry Ron and Hermione all looked at me incredulously.
Hagrid looked startled-and slightly amused.
"Weasley was straightening Malfoy's robes for him?" Snape deadpanned.
"-It could happen," I defended, raising my hands.
"Seriously?" Ron muttered.
"Shut it, I'm trying to help you, prat," I retorted under my breath.
Ron shot me a look clearly telling me to stop.
"Fine!" I huffed, turning back to Snape, "Ron was totally fighting-so much fighting-I was worried he was gonna kill him at one point-I even think I saw him pull a knife-"
Harry elbowed me hastily to shut up but I just elbowed him back and ignored him.
Hermione was hiding her face in her hands.
Malfoy looked downright entertained by how horrified they all looked.
"Jewel!"
Ron stared at me in disbelief.
"Oh, so now you want my help?"
"No, I want you to shut up before you 'help me' all the way out of Hogwarts!"
"Potter shutting up?" Malfoy scoffed, "I didn't think that was physically possible."
"That's rich coming from you," I barked a humourless laugh.
"Yeah, because I'm the one with obvious impulse control issues-"
"And who's the one who always has to have the last word?"
"You don't want me answering that."
"You-ugh, just go slick back your hair or something, you stuck-up dingbat!"
"Potter!" Snape cut in.
At his sharp look, I reluctantly shut my mouth, arms crossing.
I may or may not be pouting.
"Are you done?" he said pointedly.
"Maybe," I mumbled.
Rolling his eyes, Snape turned to Ron, his expression somehow becoming even more unpleasant.
That happens a lot, I've noticed.
When he looks at me, there's something almost...not nice, but nicer about his face that only becomes apparent when he turns away to look at other people.
It's subtle, but it's as real as McGonagall's love for me.
-come on, let me have this.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."
Malfoy and his dumb as a brick bodyguards pushed past Hagrid so harshly that nettles fell from the tree and scattered across the floor.
Before Malfoy vanished, he smirked at me over his shoulder.
I retorted with a rude gesture I was careful to make sure Snape didn't catch.
If anything, his smirk got wider.
"I'll get him," Ron said the moment Malfoy's stupid blonde head wasn't in our line of sight and Snape was gone, "one of these days, I'll get him-"
"I hate them both," Harry stated, "Malfoy and Snape."
"Snape's okay," I said unthinkingly.
Harry Ron and Hermione stared at me.
"What?" I said defensively. "He's a sass Queen, you can't convince me otherwise."
"You just like him because he favours Slytherins," Ron retorted, glossing over the fact I'd called Severus Snape a 'sass Queen'.
"Watch it, Weasley," I shot back casually enough but there was a note of genuine warning in my voice.
Ron wisely shut up.
"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," Hagrid interjected bracingly. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."
We followed the giant tree with legs to the Great Hall where we found McGonagall and Flitwick busy setting up holiday decorations.
"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree-put it in the far corner, would you?"
Even as someone who isn't big on Christmas, I was floored.
The hall was decked in holly and mistletoe and there were roughly twelve towering evergreens like the one Hagrid was carrying situated around the room-some with glittering candles(which had to be a fire hazard; I've always wondered what idiot in history looked at a tree, something made of wood, and had the bright idea to stick flaming candles in it for decoration), and others glinting with tiny icicles.
"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked us as he set up the tree.
"Just one," Hermione said before turning to me Ron and Harry. "And that reminds me-Harry, Ron, Jewel, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."
I groaned loudly while Ron pulled his eyes away from Flitwick(who was trailing golden bubbles over the branches of the new tree with his wand).
"Oh yeah, you're right," he agreed.
You know, that's the difference between me and Hermione; I love to read, but she's outright studious.
She relishes penning essays and making study schedules and, left to my own devices, I shove my homework to the bottom of my bag until the last minute(because homework is stupid)-while I read thick tombs on wizarding history and advanced studies(and, despite knowing a lot, I struggle in test situations; I just can't focus, no matter how much I snap my wrists, and my head gets foggy and loud-something I think most of my teachers have picked up on; my practical work helps keep my grades out of the danger zone, despite how smart I am, so I don't worry about it too much-unlike Hermione, I could care less about being top of the class).
"The library?" Hagrid blinked. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
Harry looked at him brightly.
"Oh, we're not working," he said and I made 'shutupshutupshutup' motions. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."
I facepalmed.
Hagrid looked shocked.
"You what? Listen here-I've told yeh-drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."
Uncomfortable, I folded my arms tightly and bit the inside of my cheek.
"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," Hermione told him.
"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added hopefully. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere-just give us a hint-I know I've read his name somewhere."
"We'll keep your name out of it," I promised him, deciding to at least seem like I'm trying to help(if I didn't say anything, they'd wonder why, and that's the last thing I want). "No one has to know you told us anything. And it's not like we're planning on telling anybody-we're just nosy gits."
"I'm sayin' nothing," he stated flatly.
"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," Ron said.
With that, we left the disgruntled gamekeeper and hurried off to the library.
Avoiding anything that so much as rhymed with 'alchemy', I ended up lazily perusing the magical creatures section while Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she wrote up to cross-check, Ron strode off down a nearby aisle and started pulling books off the shelf at random, and Harry wandered off in the direction of the Restricted Section(he'd been wondering if, maybe, Flamel is mentioned in there). To cut a long, boring story short Harry got thrown out by Pince for eyeing up the Restricted Section and standing around like a suspicious moron and-when Ron Hermione and I finally left the library for lunch-we were empty-handed.
(not surprising, considering we only get the odd moments between lessons to look, and Pince breathing down our necks doesn't help-and I'm not even actually looking, not that they need to know that-).
Harry looked at us hopefully when we walked out, but we just shook our heads.
"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" Hermione checked on our way to the Great Hall. "And send me an owl if you find anything."
I stayed quiet, my stomach twisting with guilt.
"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," Ron suggested to our Muggleborn friend. "It'd be safe to ask them."
"Very safe," Hermione dryly agreed, "as they're both dentists."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
While Ron and Harry were too busy enjoying the break to even step foot in the library, despite their promise to Hermione, I spent most of my time reading in the aisles(far away from the alchemy section and struggling to suppress my guilt over letting the others think I'm helping them, but not).
For obvious reasons, I couldn't go hang out with them in the Gryffindor common room(which is where they spent most of their time; Ron's teaching Harry Wizard's Chess-a violent and alive version of Muggle Chess), and they couldn't follow me into the Slytherin common room(which is almost empty; all of my dormmates went home for the holidays, and even Malfoy left-and, in a weird way, I almostmiss-not him, he's a stuck-up jerk and, frankly, I'm enjoying having a break from his stupid face, but having someone to bicker with; I've always liked that back and forth and, with Malfoy, I never have worry about going too far or holding back because I know he won't), so whenever they were up in Gryffindor Tower I either went off on my own to catch up on my reading or split off with Fred and George.
With their parents visiting their brother Charlie in Romania, the twins Ron and Prefect Percy were all staying at the castle.
After they realised I had been sitting alone in the library(it was better than hanging around my empty dorm room-which felt even emptier without Pansy and Bulstrode gossiping, Daphne hogging the bathroom with a blunt "deal with it, Potter", and Tracey leaving my folded uniform on my bed for me before going downstairs to kick my ass for sleeping on one of the sofas in the common room again), the twins took it upon themselves to drag me out and teach me about wizard pranks(there's even a prank store in Hogsmeade village called Zonko's-and another in Diagon Alley called Gambol and Japes I plan to check out the next time I'm there)-and, to my excitement, showing me around the secret passages I hadn't found yet.
Fred and George told me that the best way for me to learn about wizard pranks/pranks in general(which was, without a doubt, their speciality and passion)was through demonstration.
Our main/favourite target was their pompous brother Percy, who didn't find our small and relatively harmless pranks(like changing the words on his prefect badge almost hourly-we had a bit of a game going where we had to try to top whoever changed it last)nearly as amusing as we did.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, they'd even taken to calling me 'Bones'; the nickname Alistair gave me-after Leonard H. McCoy, or 'Bones', from Star Trek.
I'm Bones, he's Jim Kirk, and Dakota-well, she isn't really into sci-fi, but she humours us(she's more into action/sports; you should see her when her teams playing, sitting on the couch, immaculately dressed, and drinking beer as she shouts at the television-or even at my soccer games).
Apparently, because I call them 'Georgie' and 'Freddie', the twins really had no choice but to find a nickname for me-but, because my name is as difficult as I am, they were having some trouble.
"How about Jem or Jewely?" Fred suggested. "That could be cute."
"Not that," I blurted out with a violent flinch.
They stopped, looking back in surprise to find me frozen in the middle of the corridor.
"What?" George said.
"Not-not that," I stated thickly, my skin prickling, my body tense from head to toe, and my eyes glazed over.
After several seconds, I came out of it-head jerking up and blinking at the twin's confused and slightly worried faces as if I was surprised to see them there.
I put on a very fake feeling smile.
"I hate that name," I told them with an eye-roll, forcing an air of casualness. "It's stupid. Don't you want something cooler-or a bit more unique?"
Fred and George traded a speaking glance and, my stomach sinking, I could tell they'd noticed the way my hands shook slightly and I recoiled from the very mention of the 'stupid' nickname.
"What did you have in mind?" Fred asked finally.
They both smiled at me, like nothing was wrong, but I saw the hint of wariness and concern in their eyes as they silently wondered at my reaction.
"Bones," I said firmly. "I like Bones."
"Bones it is," George agreed with a bracing smile.
My painfully tense shoulders finally relaxed, and I smiled back weakly.
Harry Ron and I usually catch up during meals-where we stuff our faces, talk about Quidditch, and brainstorm ways to get Malfoy expelled.
One lunch, Ron even brought down his battered chess set to teach me, too.
Wizard's Chess is wicked; chess pieces smashing each other up...moving up and down the board with an order(and without you having to touch them)...and even shouting advice(mostly to Harry, who they didn't seem to trust)-but it required the same air of strategy as Muggle Chess.
Shockingly, Ron is really good.
I felt kind of bad for being surprised-I mean, more than anyone, I know how it feels to be underestimated by everybody around you because you don't come across as super smart like Hermione or whatever. It's something I think Ron and I might have in common(it's not like Ron's stupid, either; he just tends to speak before he thinks, and I can be the same way sometimes-Harry too).
After getting my ass kicked up and down the board(less so after Fred and George came over to help me; sure, I had a knack for figuring out Ron's moves before he made them-because I'm good at reading people, but that advantage doesn't do much when you've never played chess before and barely know the rules)for an hour, I gave up and bowed to Ron as the Chess Overlord.
On Christmas Eve, I left for dinner with two gifts(one flat but wide and the other small and rectangular)neatly packaged in colourful wrapping paper in my arms.
You couldn't even tell that I'd wrapped and rewrapped them four times to make sure they were perfect(shit, I really hope Dakota's OCD-like tendencies aren't starting to rub off on me).
Harry and I talked about it and-wanting to see each other's reactions to what we got one another but knowing we'll wake up in different parts of the castle tomorrow morning(I tried to sweet-talk McGonagall into letting me stay in Gryffindor Tower this one time, but she shot me down-and when I asked Snape if Harry and Ron could stay in the Slytherin common room, he took one look at me, turned around, and left-"Was that a no? Sir? Professor Sna-?...aaand he's gone-he's not here anymore-"), we decided to do a gift exchange the night before instead.
When I walked into the Great Hall, I spotted Harry sitting with Ron at Gryffindor table with his gift to me on the table in front of him; the purple packaging, and awkward sticky tape placements, the picture of 'well, I tried'.
I tucked his gifts under one arm so I could wave.
"Scotch tape!"
Harry perked up.
"Hey, Jules," he greeted with a grin at my approach. "Happy Christm-"
Spotting the Care Bears dotting the-obsessively/meticulously wrapped-gifts beneath my arm, he stopped short.
"...are those Care Bears?"
"I know, I'm a sap," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment and blushing pink, "but-they made me think of the train that day, after we left Diagon Alley, when we, you know-"
Glancing at Ron, I left it at that.
Harry looked touched.
Ron looked like he was wondering what a 'Care bear' was and why it seemed to mean so much to Harry(and make me look so sheepish).
"Thanks, Jules," Harry said sincerely with a wide smile.
"Yeah, yeah-just shut up and tear apart my hard work, would you?" I retorted awkwardly, holding out the parcels.
Harry took them but, after a moment of hesitation, put them down on the table and picked up the messier purple present.
"Do you want to go first?"
I thought it over.
"That confident your present will top mine?" I joked.
Harry and Ron traded a knowing grin.
Shrugging, I took the purple parcel-which was clearly a book-and started to tear it open.
When I saw the title, a grin broke across my own face.
"'The Beaters' Bible' by Brutus Scrimgeour," I read, flipping to the first page-only to bark out a laugh. "Rule one, 'take out the Seeker'."
I looked up at Harry with an amused smirk.
"You might regret getting me this."
"Oh, I know I will," Harry said. "Especially if Wood finds out."
I snorted loudly and Ron sniggered.
"Alright, so now open-"
Before I could finish my sentence, looking particularly smug, Harry quickly reached beneath the table-and pulled out a glossy black Beater's bat.
There was an emerald ribbon tied around it, ending in a bow I doubt either Harry or Ron were the ones to tie(Hermione, would be my guess), and my initials "J.P" elegantly written on the handle in silver.
For a good minute, I just gawked at it.
Finally, still blinking stupidly, I slowly accepted the bat, tossing it lightly in my hands and twirling it around. It was heavy, but not too heavy, and seemed to fit perfectly in my hands(unlike the school one I nicked from the sports shed, which is rough and a bit too weighty for me).
"...This is the best thing ever," I breathed in awe. "Next to Dreamy, of course," I added after a pause.
With a borderline manic grin on my face, I gave Harry a tight hug and kissed him on the cheek(causing him to turn bright pink)before pretty much jumping up and down in place.
Harry grinned proudly.
"Okay, okay, now yours," I urged even as I mimed swinging my bat around, my Beaters' Bible tucked securely into the band of my school skirt.
Harry grabbed the rectangular package first and, when I saw that, I immediately stopped swinging my gorgeous bat and watched nervously.
The wrapping fell away to reveal a wooden glass display case and, inside, a paper Golden Snitch that was enchanted to flit about like a real one.
Harry looked like he'd been hit with a Stunner.
"Whoa," Ron said, leaning in to get a good look at the paper Snitch.
"Do you like it?" I asked feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. "I bought the case but I made and bewitched the Snitch myself. Hermione helped me."
"You made this?" Ron blurted.
My face dusted pink.
"I'm more sporty than arty-but I think it turned out alright," I replied quickly. "I even asked Dean Thomas to help me with the linework, and the colouring. Hermione said he drew that lion on the Potter for President banner, so I knew he was good at drawing, and he said he was happy to help, so."
"Who else helped?" Harry wondered, barely taking his eyes off the fluttering origami Snitch in the case, which I took as a good sign.
"Just Hermione and Dean," I answered.
"This is-amazing," Harry told me seriously, blown away.
"Really?" I said with a small proud smile.
"I love it," he said earnestly. "Thank you, Jules."
"Okay, enough sappy BS-" I cleared my throat, waving Harry on even as my face flushed happily and I grinned like an idiot, "open the other one."
Still barely able to look away from his origami Golden Snitch, Harry ripped open the second parcel and held up a classic black and yellow Nirvana band t-shirt with a smiley face(with crosses for eyes, a wavy mouth, and its tongue poking out)printed on the front. There were Chocolate Frog Cards wrapped with it.
"'Nirvana?'" Harry read.
"I showed you some of their music back in August, remember?" I prompted. "You know-come as you are," I sang,"as you were, as I want you to be, as a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy."
And, when he still looked confused-
"Load up on guns, bring your friends, it's fun to lose and to pretend, she's over-bored and self-assured, oh no, I know a dirty word, hello, hello, hello, how low-"
Recognition finally lit Harry's eyes.
"Oh, Nirvana," he said.
"Smell's Like Teen Spirit," I added to a bewildered Ron. "With the lights out, it's less dangerous," I belted out, using my bat as a mock microphone(and ignoring the startled looks random strangers-who clearly had no musical taste-were giving me), "here we are now, entertain us. I feel stupid and contagious, here we are now, entertain us, a mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido, yeah!"
"So...it's a Muggle band?" Ron said, still looking slightly confused. "Wait-is Nirvana the band or the song?"
"The band," I told him. "Smell's Like Teen Spirit is the song-and probably their most well-known one. As cliche as it is, it's one of my favourites of theirs. There's a reason everyone thinks 'Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit'-it's a bloody good song. And, in my defence, it's not the only Nirvana song I know like some people-I like Come As You Are, About a Girl and Been a Son too, among others.
"It's kind of an inside joke with me and Alistair," I continued without thinking, a slight grin on my face. "Every time I so much as nod along to a song on the radio he turns around and buys me a shirt with the band's logo on it. I sang along to Happy Together-you know, 'imagine me and you, I do, I think about you day and night, it's only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight, so happy together, if I should call you up, invest a dime, and you say you belong to me and ease my mind, imagine how the world could be, so very fine, so happy together, I can't see me lovin' nobody but you, for all my life, when you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue, for all my life?'-once-once-and, the next thing I knew, I had a Turtles band shirt. I didn't even know they were the ones that sang that song."
"'Alistair?'" Ron repeated. "You mean that guy you said sells illegal drugs in our first potions class?"
"She was joking," Harry defended when I froze.
"Is he a friend of yours?" Ron wondered-missing the look on my face that vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a careless smirk.
Harry glanced back at me unsurely.
"He's a family friend," I lied casually. "He and his wife dropped us off on the station," I added.
Ron's face lit with recognition.
"Ooh. That makes sense-I was kind of confused," he explained, "because you're always saying how awful your aunt and uncle are but they seemed really nice."
"Yeah, the Dursleys are assholes," I said, brushing that off with a shrug. "Anyway, I'm starving-shift over so I can grab a plate, would you?"
The next morning, I was shocked to find a pile of presents at the end of my bed.
I expected stuff from Harry, Alistair and Dakota-but I had gifts from my dormmates, Ron and Hermione, Fred and George, Hagrid, and weirdly even Ron's mum(not that I didn't send them all, minus Mrs Weasley, something-I even got Malfoy a present; an absolutely adorable white bunny plush with rainbow stripes in its ears and on the paws of its feet and a customized black t-shirt with Hugsy stitched across it in silver, because I just couldn't help myself-Merlin, what I would've given to see the look on his face when he unwrapped it!-).
From Daphne, I got a copy of Numerology and Grammatica(a third year text)and a set of Quidditch-themed bookmarks with moving images.
Pansy got me a stack of her favourite witch magazines that she thought I might find interesting and a beautiful silver infinity bracelet(it was taped to a piece of card with the words 'we'll be friends until we're old and senile...then we'll be new friends' printed above it in black).
Tracey got me pink coconut ice and a green knitted hat and round scarf to "help me survive winter in the dungeons".
From Hagrid, a snuggly, wrinkly boarhound plush-because of how much I love Fang(I named him 'Tusky')-and a fluffy pink penguin with earmuffs-because he thought I'd like it, and it's so bloody adorable(I named him 'Salazar').
Alistair and Dakota sent me several new band shirts, a new soccer ball, some blank cassette tapes, a pair of tall leather chestnut ugg boots that were all fluffy and warm inside and perfect for the winter season, and a stack of interesting/cool-looking Muggle graphic novels/comics.
Passive-aggressive Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from Ron.
A Zonko's Nose-Biting Teacup(which is exactly what it sounds like)and a stack of delicate, spun-sugar sweets made to look like real quills(Sugar Quills; you can suck on them in class and pretend you're just thinking what to write next)from Fred and George.
Another stack of books from Hermione(these ones on magical topics I've expressed interest in during our library visits).
And, finally, my present from Ron's mum; a beautifully knit red sweater with a black letter "J" on the front and a big piece of fudge.
After awkwardly doing up the clasp of my infinity bracelet from Pansy, I tugged on my Weasley sweater and the knitted hat and scarf Tracey got me(the green stopping my hair from clashing too horribly with the vibrantly red sweater)-still slightly in shock from all the presents I'd gotten.
It was a weird feeling.
Not really caring that I was still in my green pyjama bottoms, I tugged on my new beautifully warm winter boots, laced them up, and grabbed my Beaters' Bible(which I'd spent all last night pouring over)from the shelf above my bed. I'd barely stumbled out of the dungeons when, out of nowhere, Harry and Ron grabbed me and dragged me hastily into the chamber just off the hall.
Ron was wearing a maroon Weasley sweater, and Harry's green one matched his eyes.
Neither of theirs had a letter on the front.
"Uh...Merry Christmas?"
"Jewel, you'll never guess what someone sent you and Harry!" Ron said eagerly.
I rose a single eyebrow.
"Unless it's a stack of bacon, my stomach doesn't really care right now."
"Look-" Harry pulled a beautiful silvery grey cloak out from under his sweater and unravelled it, allowing the soft material to fall to the floor.
They looked at me expectantly.
"Oh. What a nice...curtain?" I said unsurely.
"It's not a curtain," Harry said. "It's-just watch-"
And, pulling the curtain up and around himself, he promptly vanished from sight.
I just stared blankly at where he'd been for a couple of seconds.
Reaching down, I absentmindedly snapped a pink rubber band only to flinch back from the pain.
Harry pulled the curtain down, poking out his head but leaving his body engulfed in the silvery material-and, in that, leaving him as a floating head.
"See?" he said. "It's an Invisibility Cloak. Ron says they're really valuable and rare. And look, it came with this-"
His disembodied hand held out a note.
I didn't move for a good minute.
"An Invisibility Cloak," I said numbly. "Sure. That may as well happen."
Finally, I took the note.
If anything, it just stood to push me even further into a state of shock.
Your father left this in my possession before he died.
It is time it was returned to the pair of you.
Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you.
I flipped it over, but there was nothing else.
"I didn't realise it was addressed to both of us when I opened it," Harry admitted guiltily. "Sorry," he added.
"It's fine," I said faintly, blinking at a faster interval than normal. "Uh...who the hell sent this to us?"
"It doesn't say," Harry told me.
"Oh. That's nice," I muttered, sounding more and more sarcastic as I spoke, "and not at all suspicious or unnerving that someone sent us an Invisibility Cloak that may or may not've been our dad's, and may or may not be super cursed, and conveniently didn't sign their names on it."
They both blinked, having apparently not thought of any of that.
The idiots probably thought it was a fun mystery.
"Wait-" I looked at Harry's floating head in disbelief, "you got sent an 'Invisibility Cloak' and, without checking who or where it was from, you just put it on? You're convinced Snape tried to do you in by cursing your Nimbus a couple of weeks ago-and it didn't for a second occur to you that this random bit of fabric from nobody could've been another attempt on your life?"
Harry looked suddenly sheepish.
I swear to god, Gryffindors have no bloody sense of self-preservation, it's mind-boggling.
"It's not cursed, Jewel," Ron said with an eye-roll. "I mean, if it was, Harry's head probably would've already-exploded or something by now."
"Why would my head explode?" Harry looked alarmed.
"I don't know-" Ron scratched the back of his neck, "the point is, nothing's happened, so it probably isn't cursed."
"...I'm surrounded by idiots," I deadpanned.
"Do you want a try?" Harry offered after a minute, shaking off the image of his exploding head and pulling the cloak off and fully reappearing.
Against my better judgement, I accepted it, running my fingers over the soft material.
It felt strange-like sliding your hand slowly through water.
Pulling it around me, I watched interestedly as my body vanished.
Slowly, a wicked smirk quirked the corner of my lips.
"What's that for?" Ron gestured at my mischievous expression.
"Oh, just thinking about all the stuff I could do with the power of invisibility," I sighed wistfully. "How do you think Malfoy would react to seeing my floating head in the corner of his dorm?" I added, waggling my eyebrows playfully, and Ron sniggered.
"Maybe don't," Harry warned. "He'd go straight to Snape and get it confiscated."
I shrugged, conceding to that.
Still, this will definitely come in handy if I ever want to sneak out after hours-maybe even finally get a look down the library's restricted section. I could even sneak into the kitchens, as soon as I find it(the twins will probably show me where it is at some point or another), for midnight snacks!
While doubting it really was dad's, I couldn't help but wonder what he did, or would've done, with it(if he's anything like me, it wasn't anything that would win him house points, that's for sure).
I haven't really thought about him, or mum, since finding out they were murdered-and I know that sounds kind of bad, but I've spent my entire life not thinking about them. They were dead, I've always known that. Dwelling on them, on who they were and what could've been, would've just driven me crazy. Now, it gives me a dull pain in my chest and I just feel...conflicted.
When our growling stomachs finally refused to be ignored, Harry and Ron snuck the cloak back to their dorm(Harry and I've decided to trade it back and forth on alternating Mondays)before meeting me in the Great Hall.
By the time they arrived, they found me laughing my ass off with the twins.
Like me, Fred and George had letters knitted on the front of their Weasley sweaters.
Suffice to say, for the rest of the day, we refused to answer to anything but 'Gred Forge and Jarry'.
After breakfast, I dragged them all outside for a snowball fight-and, mid-way through, switched to the twin's side and absolutely destroyed Harry and Ron.
"You can't just decide you're on their team now!" Ron argued.
"Sure I can," I said casually, pointing at myself with a sing-song-"Slytherin."
The Christmas Feast was magnificent.
Roast turkeys(I've never liked turkey, I prefer chicken, but they looked fantastic); roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; buttered peas; silver boats filled with gravy and cranberry sauce; and stacks of wizard crackers(that, when pulled, let out a loud BOOM! and engulfs whoever pulled them in a cloud of blue smoke that quickly clears to reveal the prize inside).
I miss Dakota and Alistair, and I really did want to go to Bubbe's again this year(I miss her sufganiyot desperately), but this was kind of-nice.
Hagrid was beaming, and slightly tipsy, at the High Table(and, to my amusement, when he kissed McGonagall's cheek beneath a sprig of mistletoe she giggled and blushed, her hat lopsided), Dumbledore had on a flowered bonnet that he'd traded a wizard's hat he'd gotten out of a wizard cracker for, the twins were cracking jokes, and Harry and Ron were sitting on either side of me.
It wasn't perfect, but it was still...good.
Dinner was followed up by flaming puddings, and Percy almost broke his tooth biting into a silver Sickle.
When we left the table, Harry's pockets were full of prizes and mine wizard crackers I was saving to use with Alistair and Dakota in July.
The snowball war continued that afternoon and, once again, I abruptly swapped sides and helped Harry and Ron pummel Fred and George with snowballs.
"Quit switching sides!" Ron exclaimed in exasperation.
I responded by promptly nailing him in the face with a snowball.
That night, I brought my blankets down to the common room(because it was too quiet in my dorm without Pansy and Tracey giggling, Daphne telling them to shut it at around eleven, and Bulstrode snoring away like a giant with a sinus infection), drifting off by the fireplace with a smile on my face.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
December 26th morning, I sat at Gryffindor table staring blankly at my hands, struggling to process what Harry had just told me and Ron.
Last night, unable to sleep and eager to explore the castle at night, he'd snuck out using our Invisibility Cloak-and, out of literally anything he could've done in the entire world/slumbering castle, ended up breaking into the library to check the restricted section for mentions of Nicolas Flamel. He was almost caught by Filch and Snape when he opened a book and it screamed in his face-because of course it did, but got away just in time(and overheard Filch and Snape talking; apparently, Snape instructed the caretaker to come to him directly if he caught anyone wandering about at night-why, I don't know, but Harry didn't seem to think it was important)...and, when he did, he stumbled on to a room with a magic mirror inside.
A mirror that showed him our entire family...including me.
I have mum's thick dark red hair(but mine's messy and wild, like dad's), he told me, and her eyes-but mine are darker, more emerald or jade(except for when I'm angry, overexcited, or I've been crying a lot and they brighten and look exactly like hers-and Harry's), and rounder(her eyes are almond-shaped and the spitting image of Harry's). While mum's fair-skinned, I tend to get pretty tan in summer(between soccer, and now Quidditch, I spend half the year with a nice tan that pales in winter). And dad...dad looked just like him. He was tall and thin with glasses, hazel eyes, and untidy black hair that, just like Harry's, stuck up at the back.
Just like mine would too, if I cut it short enough.
"You could have woken me up," Ron said crossly, obviously annoyed that Harry went on this huge adventure without him-or even me.
I just kept frowning silently at my hands.
"You can come tonight-and Jewel can come, too," Harry offered, glancing quickly at me, "I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."
It was clear he meant more me than Ron, but Ron didn't seem to mind.
"I'd like to see your mum and dad," the redhead said eagerly.
"And I want to see all your family," Harry told him, "all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."
"You can see them any old time," Ron replied carelessly. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating?"
There was something off about Harry I noticed when I finally looked up at him and, my thoughts momentarily shifting away from the magic mirror and what Harry saw, I felt my stomach twist uneasily.
All he could do was obsess about seeing our parents tonight. It was like, next to that, nothing really mattered anymore-not Flamel, not what Fluffy's guarding(and whether or not 'Snape' steals it)...and not even eating.
If I wasn't already feeling apprehensive, that realisation would've done it.
"Are you alright?" Ron said. "You look odd."
As much as I really didn't want to go see my dead family, because I'm conflicted enough at the thought of them without having to stare them in the face, I decided to tag along that night; if only to check out the mirror that was so clearly cursed. I was worried about Harry and I couldn't see any way to snap him out of it without going to see the thing that's twisted his head around in the first place.
Harry and Ron picked me up in the shadows of the Entrance Hall before, hidden safely beneath the Invisibility Cloak, we snuck upstairs and headed for the library-slowly retracing Harry's footsteps from the night before and wandering about dark passageways for just short of an hour.
"I'm freezing," Ron complained after a while. "Let's forget it and go back."
I, personally, was all for forgetting the creepy cursed mirror.
Harry? Not so much.
"No!" he hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."
Ron and I shared an uneasy look.
Other than a tall ghost that walked past us as she headed in the opposite direction, the corridors were empty. And really bloody cold. Ron was just starting to moan that his feet were dead with cold when Harry caught sight of a suit of armour in the hall and brightened with excitement and relief.
"It's here-just here-yes!"
We pushed the door open and, upon stepping inside, Harry dropped the cloak and sprinted over to a gold ornate mirror. It was as tall as the ceiling, standing on two clawed feet, and had been propped against the wall facing us. There was an inscription across the top of the frame:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
It looked out of place in the unused classroom.
Desks and chairs were silhouetted and piled against the walls and an upturned wastepaper basket lay nearby on the floor.
"See?" Harry whispered.
Trading another unsure look, Ron and I made our way over to Harry and peered into the glass...
Only to find the three of us, nobody else, reflected back.
"I can't see anything," Ron said.
"Me either," I agreed slowly as I eyed the mirror with apprehension.
Everything about it-and the hungry, desperate look on Harry's face-screamed 'danger, danger, run away'. I felt like the protagonist in a low-budget slasher flick and, at the moment, an entire cinema of moviegoers was bemoaning my stupidity and screaming at me to get the hell out while I still could.
"Look!" he insisted. "Look at them all...there are loads of them..."
Ron and I glanced at each other.
"We can only see you," the redhead admitted for the both of us.
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
Harry and Ron traded places and, suddenly, Ron was transfixed.
"Look at me!"
"Can you see all your family standing around you?"
"No-I'm alone-but I'm different-I look older-and I'm head boy!"
I looked at Ron, startled and confused.
In the mirror, the redhead briefly glanced at me and blushed.
"What?"
"I-" he quickly looked away from me, ears going red, "I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to-and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup-I'm Quidditch captain, too."
Ron pulled his eyes away from the mirror, turning excitedly to Harry.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"
Then, looking slightly uncomfortable, he glanced at me again and turned even redder.
Somehow knowing my cursed reflection had been a little bit too friendly with his, I grimaced awkwardly.
It's not that Ron has a crush on me(far from it, I'm one of his best mates-and the idea clearly weirds him out), but I am a pretty girl and this is his fantasy sequence...
-I hate enchanted mirrors.
"How can it?" Harry countered. "All my family are dead-"
I coughed pointedly in disbelief.
Harry looked sheepish.
"Jewel, you should look-" he suggested quickly, "see if you see our family like I do-"
"You know this thing is probably cursed, right?" I pointed out tensely. "I mean, just look at how you're both obsessing over it. It's probably dangerous."
"If it was dangerous, why would it be in a school of kids?" Ron reasoned, clearly not thinking straight.
He had that same manic glint in his eyes that Harry did, and it made me uneasy.
Before I could argue, he'd grabbed me and shoved me right in front of the blasted mirror.
To my confusion, it was just...me.
"Do you see them all?" Harry asked expectantly.
"No...not exactly..." I said slowly, my eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"Then what do you see?" Ron wondered.
"Myself?" I stammered questioningly. "Maybe it's broken-or I'm not looking at it...right..."
That's when I saw it.
I wasn't wearing my green pyjama bottoms or my Weasley sweater and winter boots anymore, I realised with a start. Instead, I had on several pairs of colourful slouch socks, my wild red hair pulled back into a messy bun with strands escaping here and there, denim shorts...and a black halterneck with strings that tied around my neck and a Def Leppard band logo.
The skin of my arms and legs were smooth and unblemished, the crescent-shaped mark on my neck was gone, and my mirror self was smiling in a way I can honestly say I'd never seen myself smile before.
My green eyes were brighter than I'd ever seen them.
She looked so...happy.
I touched my upper arms and shoulders, running my fingers along what I knew lay beneath the arms of the red sweater, and-like Ron and Harry before me-found myself transfixed by my reflection.
"Oh," I whispered with new understanding. "So that's what you are."
"...Jewel?" Ron said carefully, briefly regaining a hint of that uneasiness he'd displayed when he saw how strangely Harry had been acting.
Before I could find the words, Harry lost his patience.
"-Jewel, let me have another look-"
Ron looked up quickly, his worried expression vanishing in a blink.
"You had it to yourself all last night," he argued, "give me a bit more time."
"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? And Jewel just sees herself. I want to see my parents."
"Don't push me-"
Harry and Ron started fighting.
Lost in what I'd seen in the mirror, I just stood there blankly, numb fingers still trailing up and down my upper arms.
A sudden noise from the corridor outside snapped us all out of it.
My head shot up.
"Quick!"
Ron hastily threw the Invisibility Cloak back over us-just in time for Mrs Norris to slink around the door. We all stood as still as statues, wondering anxiously if the cloak worked on animals in the same way it did people.
Finally, to our collective relief, she wandered back out again.
"This isn't safe-she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."
Ron pulled Harry out of the room and, still in a bit of a daze, I stumbled to follow.
The next morning, I sat at Gryffindor table again-and, once again, found myself staring blankly at my hands as I thought about the magic mirror Harry had found. If it does what I think it might do, then it's no wonder it didn't show me mine and Harry's family-I stopped thinking about them a long time ago.
It wasn't until I met Dumbledore that they even entered my head again, and I'm still-struggling with the idea.
I'm still struggling with the idea of Harry for that matter, as close as we've gotten over the past couple of months.
(has it really been almost five months already?).
But that thing I saw in my reflection...now that is something else entirely.
I never really stop thinking about that.
"Want to play chess?" Ron suggested, watching mine and Harry's expressions warily.
"No," Harry said.
I stayed silent.
While I woke up deeply pensive, and emotionally shot, Harry was still obsessed with seeing that mirror again-and Ron seemed to of snapped out of it and come to the conclusion that it probably is cursed and dangerous, just like I said it was, and we shouldn't go back. The last thing I want to do is go back but if Harry does-and I'm sure he will, I know I'll follow.
I can't let him go alone.
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"
"No...you go..."
"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror," Ron accused with a glance in my direction. "Don't go back tonight. Either of you."
"Why not?" Harry demanded.
I just hugged my arms tightly, biting the inside of my cheek.
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it-and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"
"You sound like Hermione."
"I'm serious, Harry, don't go," Ron said. "And don't make Jewel go," he added seriously.
Harry finally looked like he was actually there, shock and confusion flashing across his face.
"What?"
"If you go, she'll go. Don't make her go."
"I'm right here," I interjected wryly. "I can speak for myself."
"I saw you last night, Jules," he said, surprising me by using Harry's nickname for me. "I've never seen you look like that before, and I never want to see you look like that again."
"...What do you mean?" I asked warily.
He roughly ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily.
"You looked..." he searched for the right word, but couldn't seem to spit it out. "Look, just don't go. You're the one that said the mirror's probably dangerous-and cursed. Leave it alone."
I dropped my gaze to the table, my fingers tightening on my arms as the word he'd been thinking rang through my ears and bounced viciously around my head.
Haunted.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
Ron was right-it was a stupid idea, the mirror is probably dangerous as hell, and we should stay far, far away from it...
So why is it that, despite all of that, Harry and I still met up in the Entrance Hall once again that night and made our way towards it?
It was like we were being lured out by the Pied Piper-only, instead of a fairytale villain stealing children into the night, it was a mirror that caused whoever looked into it to become so obsessed with what they saw that they couldn't function without it or think of anything else.
As if that wasn't enough, completely lost in the draw of what he saw and desperate to get back, Harry was practically running.
I could barely keep up with him.
How we weren't caught is beyond me-Harry was like a one-man stampede and he was dragging me along for the ride.
The second we reached the mirror room, unable to see anything else, Harry tossed the Invisibility Cloak aside without a second thought and sank down in front of the glass.
Rubbing my upper arms, I gathered up the cloak and watched my brother apprehensively.
He was completely lost in his own reflection.
An idea suddenly popped into my head and I sharply turned my head away...only to slowly look back at Harry, torn and harshly biting my lip.
And, despite my fear and how wrong it felt, I impulsively focused my eyes on the back of his head and stared at him intently-and, slowly but surely, I knew all too well what he was seeing.
Because I was seeing it too.
An image of a smiling hazel-eyed man with his arm around a redheaded woman blanked out my vision and, standing all around them with warm smiles and waves, were people with green eyes or hazel. There was even a little old man with knobbly knees like Harry's. Another version of me was tucked beneath the hazel-eyed man's other arm, tongue caught between my teeth and grinning.
The deep ache in Harry's chest became my own as I delved deeper and deeper into his mind, spiralling out of control without knowing how to stop myself.
I'd never gone this far before, never really intentionally pushed further than what I accidentally scrape off the surface-and it made me dizzy.
...Flashes of Dudley and his gang-the rat-faced Piers Polkiss, Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis(being the biggest, strongest, and stupidest of the lot Dudley was the ringleader)-bullying him, playing Harry Hunting(Dudley's favourite sport where they'd chase him down and punch him), and making the kids at school too scared of being harassed to talk to him...Petunia and Vernon harshly locking him in that tiny, spider-infested cupboard without supper whenever something 'strange' happened around him(accidental magic he had no idea he was causing, couldn't control, but was punished for anyway)...laying in his cupboard in the dark, wishing for some unknown relative to take him away-straining his mind to remember something, anything, before the Dursley's only for his scar to start hurting and a green light to explode behind his eyelids...
...Suddenly, there was a shift, and I could see my face, a mischievous spark in my green eyes that could just as easily burst into flames and my lips pulled up in a tongue-in-teeth grin that the twins insist is 'the most bloody adorable thing ever'...everything around me seemed brighter...waking up on the floor in the hut-on-the-rock and feeling like he could've cried when he saw me sleeping beneath Hagrid's coat and realised the night before had been real-that I was real...Harry sitting on his bed the night before Christmas, holding the glass display case with his origami Golden Snitch, watching it flit about with a smile on his face-and a warm feeling radiating in his chest as he thought to himself, my sister made me this...
Feelings, thoughts, and memories hit me one after another until I could barely decipher them-barely think straight-and I stumbled back as if I'd been punched in the chest, dropping the Invisibility Cloak, winded and disoriented. I was losing myself, I knew with terrifying clarity that gripped my chest in a painful vice, but I couldn't stop-all I could do was keep falling and falling-
Suddenly, a hand gripped my shoulder and squeezed.
When I snapped back to reality, I could've sobbed in relief as I took in a desperate breath.
I don't think I would've come back on my own.
It took me a couple of minutes before I could fully separate myself from Harry-the hand on my shoulder seemingly grounding me-and feel like myself again. Reaching down, I furiously snapped my rubber bands, over and over. Then, still staring at the back of Harry's head in a daze as he obliviously watched our parents in the mirror's reflection, consumed by it-
"She's pretty," I whispered without realising it.
The hand on my shoulder tightened.
"So-back again, Harry?"
My head shot up-taken aback upon realising the person who'd grabbed my shoulder, pulling me out of whatever that was, had been Dumbledore.
He smiling kindly at Harry, but his hand didn't loosen on my shoulder and there was something in his eyes I couldn't pinpoint.
Somehow, he seemed even more closed off than usual.
Shocked and terrified, Harry jerked around.
"-I didn't see you, sir."
"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore remarked.
Noticing the headmaster's smile, but not the underlining emotion behind it, Harry looked relieved.
"So," he continued, finally letting me go and gently leading me over to sit on the floor with my brother(and, shaken up and reeling from whatever that was, all I could do was follow along numbly), "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
Dumbledore finally looked at me.
As open and kind as his expression was, his eyes were sharp and searching and I just knew he'd seen something before.
I looked away quickly, stomach clenching painfully.
My hands were slightly shaking.
"I didn't know it was called that, Sir," Harry said, not noticing anything wrong.
Least of all how the headmaster was now looking at me.
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"
"It-well-it shows me my family-"
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."
"Everyone expects me to do as well as the others", I suddenly remembered him saying gloomily on the Hogwarts Express, "but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first."
"How did you know-?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore told Harry gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"
From the corner of my eye, I saw him look at me.
Harry shook his head.
"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"
Harry looked up sharply.
"Like Jewel, you mean?" he said.
Dumbledore looked slightly taken off guard.
"She only saw herself," he added, glancing at me. "Right?"
I wanted to put on a cocky smirk and claim to be "the happiest person on earth"...but, as I stared up at the enchanted mirror, I couldn't bring myself to lie like that. Not with the truth staring me in the face, and not to him.
My reflection in the mirror seemed to darken.
"I saw myself how I want to be, not how I am," I almost whispered, speaking more to myself than either of them as I stared hard at my mirror self, and Dumbledore and Harry went quiet. "She looked so...happy. The other me. And she didn't even have to try." Against my will, tears rose to my eyes, "She never had to pretend because she really was just that...carefree." Normal, I thought, my jaw tensing. She wasn't going crazy, not like I am. And she wouldn't of forced herself into her brother's head like that, I added harshly with a stab of guilt and bitterness, and, if she did, she wouldn't of gone so far-she wouldn't of needed Dumbledore to save her before she drowned-"I want that, Harry," I almost spat, the admission leaving a trail of fire blazing up my throat and taking more out of me than I'd expected, "I really want that."
I looked at my twin, refusing to let the tears in my eyes fall, and his lips parted.
Finally, he seemed to understand why Ron so badly didn't want me to come back here.
"Jules..." he breathed, speechless.
They were both looking at me with new eyes, and it made my chest tighten and the back of my throat ache.
"I promise I'm not depressed," I added hastily, voice thickening, "but sometimes it's just really hard for me to be...her. So, I put on a cocky smile, and act all confident-and, when I do that, nobody bothers to look any closer. And, when I pretend hard enough, it feels almost real."
Harry didn't seem to know what to say.
Dumbledore looked at me sadly, an unreadable emotion in his blue eyes.
"Why haven't you said anything?" Harry said faintly, at a loss.
"We've known each other five months, Harry," I laughed bitterly. "You don't know me."
Harry looked like I'd slapped him.
The guilt twisted deeper.
"I will though," he said quietly looking suddenly determined. "Eventually."
"Eventually," I echoed hollowly as I continued to stare at the mirror, and he stared at me.
For a moment, no one spoke.
"The mirror is enchanted to show us whatever it is wedesire," I said suddenly, my voice sounding slightly hoarse with emotion. "Isn't it?" I glanced at Dumbledore. "Erised spells desire backwards-but, even without that, what we all saw would've given it away. It reflects back our deepest, most twisted, most desperate desires-and that's why it's so bloody dangerous, and why it's been messing with all our heads so much the past few days.Am I right?"
I sounded sardonic even to my own ears.
Dumbledore smiled grimly.
"Yes," he confirmed quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. Harry, who has never known his family, sees them standing around him. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. And you, Jewel..." he looked at me pityingly, "you see yourself as the person you wish you could be, but never will. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"
Standing up, Harry wordlessly offered me a hand.
After looking at Dumbledore, and the mirror, for a long moment I took it.
"Sir-Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Obviously, you've just done so," the headmaster pointed out with a smile and I almost snorted. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks. One can never have enough socks," he added when Harry just stared at him. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
I didn't have to be a whatever I am to know he was lying.
Harry and I walked back to the Entrance Hall in silence but, when I moved to duck out from beneath the cloak, he suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
The next thing I knew, he was hugging me so tightly my breath caught in my throat.
"Sorry," he mumbled without letting go.
The dam finally breaking, I grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt desperately, buried my face in his neck, and just started sobbing.