III. Intermezzo (To Cast A Shadow Pt. 1)
"To light a light is to cast a shadow; one cannot exist without the other."
~Zen proverb
It was barely ten o'clock when Lilith arrived at King's Cross Station. She had easily found her way to Platform 9¾, thanks to the instructions of a kind witch in Diagon Alley. However, once arriving, she found the area deserted. Not even the train had gotten in.
Settling down on a nearby bench, Lilith pulled out A Standard Book of Spells, Grade One. Her supposedly new copy was ratted and worn, despite the fact that her mysterious vault at Gringotts was filled with gold.
She opened the book to the first page and began reading.
There are certain spells every young witch or wizard should know, many of them enclosed within these pages. Learning these spells will hopefully leave the new magician with a through knowledge of magic and with a handful of handy charms. More importantly, however, they will learn technique and word articulation to keep spells cleancut and functional.
It was very dry reading, Lilith noticed immediately, though the content itself fascinated her. She continued to read.
The key element of magic is the wand. Without a wand, magic becomes very unstable. Wandless magic is often used by Dark wizards and is often deadly to the spell-caster. The wand works as an amplifier, strengthening the user's magic and focusing it. Also, it protects its owner by absorbing the aftershock of the spell. The wand has a core containing magic of its own, such as phoenix feather, unicorn hair, or dragon heartstring. This core solidifies the spell and adds to the caster's magic.
Every wizard has a wand that matches his or her magic precisely. The process of selecting a wand is a crucial one, and there are many important factors to consider, such as size, wood type and core. There are experts in this field who are ready to help you.
Lilith's wand was ebony with dragon heartstring. She had immediately disliked it, hated the way it fit perfectly into her hand, hated the flow of energy that surged through her body. It had felt wrong and yet when she waved it in the air, silver sparks had come flying from the tip.
The passage struck the same dissonant chord within her and she found herself thinking about something her old A.P. World History teacher had said.
"Never take anything at surface level," the Muggle had told them, "look at it from all sides. It's more than likely that the source is biased."
Lilith tried to remember how she was supposed to check for accuracy. The teacher had given them an acronym to use: SOAPS. Subject, Occasion, Audience, Purpose, Speaker. Well, the subject of the passage was the purpose of a wand. The occasion? She supposed it was the introduction to the book. That was a hard one. The audience would be little eleven-year-olds who would take this stuff to heart. The purpose was obvious, to tell kids why they use wands. Or maybe to steer them away from wandless magic? Yes, that sounded about right. The author basically threatened the reader with death if they didn't use a wand. The speaker is Miranda Goshawk, who Lilith knew nothing about. It was interesting to think about.
She knew that she didn't have enough information to tell if the book was biased or not; she'd need more sources for that. But somehow, she was sure it was.
Looking up, she realized that the train had arrived sometime during her thoughts and that students were starting to trickle onto the platform. Lilith stood up quickly and grabbed her trunk, tucking the book under her arm.
She boarded the train after loading her trunk and made her way down the aisles, looking for an empty compartment. She found one and returned to her book, which was now droning on about wand movements.
Before she knew it, the train had started moving and a pair of redheads slid the compartment door open. Lilith looked up at the two warily as they took the seats across from her.
"Mind if we sit here?" said one. "All the other seats are taken."
Lilith shrugged. "You're already sitting." she replied.
The two exchanged hidden glances.
"We've never seen you around here." the first one stated matter-of-factly. "And you're far too old to be a first year. You must be new."
"Yeah." said Lilith simply.
"I'm Fred Weasley. And this is my brother George." he gestured to the other , who waved silently.
"Does he talk?" Lilith asked Fred flatly. His twin hadn't spoken at all.
"Sadly, no." Fred explained. "He's been mute since we were born."
"Can he understand us?" Lilith asked a second question, guininely curious now.
The mute George nodded yes.
"Wow." she said, eyes widening. "I wish I could be mute. Talking can be such an inconvienence."
George smiled quietly and Fred laughed in agreement.
The compartment door slid open once more and another redhead slipped inside.
"George," he said, aiming a glare at the mute boy, "d'you know what Harry did with his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament?"
"We have no clue. Why?" Fred answered automatically.
"I'm not asking you, Fred. I'm asking George." the new arrival shot back. "Well?"
George sent Lilith a sheepish grin before answering, "Why don't you ask Harry?"
Lilith sighed huffily and crossed her arms at the same instant the other boy did.
"I already asked Harry." he whined. "He won't tell me. Why do you think I'm asking you?"
"Maybe he has a good reason for not telling you." Lilith spoke up and the boy looked at her for the first time. His face registered vague confusion.
"She's right, Ron." Fred and George chimed, sending Lilith grateful looks. Ron sighed, looked at Lilith one last time, and left again. Lilith glared at the two for a second before opening her book and standing up to leave.
"Wait." said George. Lilith turned to face him.
"Yes?"
"Look," Fred started, but Lilith waved him off.
"I don't need apologies or explanations." she told them. "You're teenage boys. That's all the reason you need."
The twins blinked and looked up at her. Lilith rolled her eyes and turned around once again.
"Wait!" the two chorused.
"What?!" Lilith snapped.
"Want to play a game of chess?" said Fred's voice from behind her.
Lilith almost smiled--almost, but not quite.
"Fine." she muttered, plonking back down in her seat.
***
I fell asleep halfway through the train ride and dreamt I was bleeding. Blood poured from a wound in my side, and the redhaired twins were there but they refused to help me. Dying felt vaguely familiar.
***