Chapter 3
At the breakfast table I began to write a letter to Mage. She was my
closest companion in the Immortals. Had that not been an Ophiuchus
that came to assassinate me that night? I don't understand. Who was
that man then? Why did I survive that fall and land here? It was like
a portal. I remember the strong wind that blew when I heard the
screams. And there was something else. That pain on my wrist under
this metal cuff. Did it save me? Why? I was happy with death. Why
couldn't it just leave me be?
In the letter I would ask Mage to send my personals. This included two
changes of clothes, my laptop, and my charcoals (I've never told
anyone this, but I have a sincere passion for drawing. Everything here
is new. I must say over the years I have learned how to entertain
myself, since I prefer to be alone. I want to draw everything. The
turrets, the sky ceiling, and especially the people. I'm especially
interested in the Professors. Of course, I don't think that I could
catch the true essence of truth in Dumbledore's eyes.) Oh, I almost
forgot, I need to tell her to also send my "working gear." This is
what I use when I'm on a job. It includes my weapons, color contacts,
and "make-up." (Oh, and when I say make-up I mean the certain details
I had to add to my body to be accepted by my peers; such as highlight
formula, white face powder, dark red and black lipstick, eyeliner, and
a spike dog collar. The Goth forte really rocks. You can get into any
club around the city.)
Now before class starts I'd better get up to that owlery and send
this letter. I ran up several stairs until I reached a trap door with
a ladder leading to it. I climbed up the rickety ladder and pushed
open the door. Light filtered through the cracks in the wooden
shingles. A musty smell reeking of dust and feathers decked the room.
Through the shadows I could see pairs of yellow eyes glowing. The owls
were chirping friendly to each other. I walked to the closest owl; a
large sandy Barn Owl.
"Er... will you take this to Mage in London on 2791 Crescent Street,
Apartment 215," I asked hesitantly.
The owl screeched in acknowledgement and took the letter from me
before taking to the skies through a small hole in the roof. That's
over with. Now, what class do I have. Potions at 8:30 a.m. Oh crap!
I'm late!
I jumped down the ladder; ignoring my sore shoulder. I flew down the
staircases and into the dungeons. I held my robes closer to me,
because the air had suddenly turned crisp. I burst through the dungeon
door to find the class had already started and Professor Snape writing
directions on the board. I stood finding myself cracking my knuckles
again and staring about nervously.
"So, you finally decided to join us, Gryffindor," he snarled.
I stayed silent. Don't mess with me.
"I suppose just because you found favoritism with Professor Dumbledore
you think you can slack... well, that is a dangerous misconception," he
continued to hiss.
I remained standing quietly in the middle of the room as he circled me
like a wolf preparing for the kill. Alright now you're making me mad!
I am not to be inspected like I'm a piece of merchandise!
"Fine. Since you think you know everything already about this class,
and you don't think you need to show up on time... let's test your
knowledge," he mused angrily, "What do you add to the Chamela potion
to get it to separate into two parts: mercury and Wyvern saliva?"
After a few moments of thinking I answered, despite the furious waving
of the same bushy-haired girl I had seen that morning.
"You would need to use the hair of a Maenag," I answered maliciously.
By the displeased look on his face I had answered correct. I sneered
before taking a seat near the back of the class. During the class we
mixed an intricate poison. It was slightly more complicated due to the
fact I could only use one hand, but I completed it shortly before
class ended. I left the vile on his desk.
"Oh next time you want to improve your self confidence choose someone
who knows a little less chemistry," I laughed sarcastically.
"Detention and fifty points from Gryffindor," he growled.
We glared at each other. Each of us was trying to intimidate the
other, but I wouldn't back down. You don't scare me. I can see through
your hard shell to your weak insecurities.
I then turned and swept out of the room. I chuckled to myself. This
will be an interesting year. I'm already making enemies and it's only
my first day. I walked down the hallway and away from the chill of the
dungeon. I was almost to the transfiguration class when I felt
suddenly weak. My vision blurred and I fell sideways against a wall.
The stitches burned and paralyzed my body with pain. My books
scattered to the floor and I felt as if a cold cloak had wrapped
itself around my body. I couldn't breath. That's when I heard the
voice. It was soft and low; like the purring of a kitten.
"Atrae le vite. Sormun calle."
I felt a warm touch of breath against my cheek. Before my hazy vision
I could make out a dark shape that was kneeling next to me and
whispering in my ear. Then the frosty noose that had cut off my
breathing was released and I was finally able to cough and gasp for
breath. I looked up, but I was alone once again. My strength had
suddenly returned. What in the hell was that? I picked up my books and
headed to my next class. Professor McGonagoll looked up when I entered
the classroom. She looked over my pale complexion and beckoned me to
her desk.
"Is anything wrong Raven?" she asked sincerely
"No... I just... I just, nothing," I managed to stammer. I felt it was
better not to discuss my experience in the hall. Besides it's none of
her business anyway!
"Then go take a seat. Class is about to begin."
The day dragged on for what seemed for millenniums. How in the heck
have these kids dealt with these boring classes for five years I can
barely stand one day? I found myself falling asleep in Professor Bin's
class. Although I was fortunate enough that someone dropped a book
causing me to jerk awake. Finally the last class, herbology, ended and
I walked back up to the castle. When I reached the girls' dormitory I
found two sets of packages. One consisted of my school supplies and
had a note from Dumbledore that read: Here are your school supplies.
Try out the different wands. You will know which one is right for you.
Have a wonderful school year!
The second pile was my personals I had sent for. Mage hadn't written a
letter. This was disturbing, because I had requested a report on the
clan's progress, and Mage never failed to answer one of my letters...
never!
I had so much work to do that it was quite overwhelming. Shit! I've
never had so much work on one night. What's with this school? Do they
want to work us to death or something? I had a two scroll report for
Professor Bins, a potion to write up and prepare for Professor Snape,
I had to learn how to transfigure a candle into a mouse, and I still
had to organize my newly arrived school supplies. I headed down to the
common room to start my work by the light of the fire. I decided to
begin potion's homework first. I looked around as I came down the
steps and saw the girl with the bushy brown hair. She apparently had
the same idea as myself and was diligently plugging away at the essay.
I set up my cauldron over the flame and started to put in the first
ingredients. I was practicing holding a vile of salamander blood with
my injured hand (I must empress upon you that ever since my shoulder
was hit by that poisoned bullet my whole arm has been practically
paralyzed and only recently have I regained feeling in my fingers.)
when the sudden impulse hit me. My once limp hand convulsed and began
to grasp the vile extremely tight. I tried to pry my fingers from the
vile, but I couldn't. It was like my arm was being controlled. Stop!
What's happening to my hand?! Without warning the vile splintered into
several pieces, sending shards scraping across my face and jabbing
into hand. The contents of the vile spewed over my robes; searing the
skin of my hand that had broken the tube.
"Damn!" I cursed so loudly that it caused the girl studying across
from me to jump. I bent over my hand in agony.
"What happened?" questioned a concerned voice from the corner.
"Nothing!" I mumbled in pain.
"Here, let me see," she demanded. The girl had limberly hopped up from
her arm chair in the corner and had limberly walked over and sat in
front of me. She swiftly grabbed my hand before I could protest and
began inspecting the deep gashes. "Well at least there's no glass
caught in the cuts. Just hold still a minute." She flicked her wand
and a gossamer stream flowed and tightly rapped around my hand. She
continued standing there scrutinizing my appearance as if trying to
remember something.
"Hey! You're that girl that almost choked Stanley Burnette yesterday,
aren't you?" the girl questioned.
"Is that the stupid little bastard's name? That wretch could've gotten
me into a lot of trouble!"
"Well you're the one who almost killed him. He should be the one
holding a grudge."
"Talk for yourself! I can feel toward anyone how I want so, shut up!"
"I just brought up the subject, because every time he sees you he is
scared stiff. I just thought that it would be nice if you apologized."
Ha! Llike that'll happen!
I turned from her and started to clean the mess from the broken vile.
"Listen, I think we started off on the wrong foot. I'm Hermione
Granger and I already know you're Raven..."
"Well, thanks for saving me the time of introduction," I interrupted
derisively.
"You are not a very social person are you?"
"Ya' think?"
"Anyways it's nice to meet you," she concluded.
I collapsed into a chair opposite her. I was tired of having to
"control my emotions" all throughout the day, and here was my chance
to relieve my stress on this idiot and yet I hesitated. Something deep
inside me yearned to talk to this girl. I suppose it wouldn't hurt.
After all, if I'm going to thrive in these surroundings I guess
everyone I meet shouldn't be made an enemy.
"Are you in all my classes?" I offhandedly asked.
"Oh, so you want to speak to me now?" she asked sarcastically
surprised.
"You can answer my question or not, I really don't give a damn! I have
a migraine and I don't feel like dealing with a smart ass." I said
with disgust.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound that way. But yes I am in each
of your classes. I noticed you were working on Snape's assignment. Do
you need help?"
I stopped. Even though I had just been rude to this... Hermione, she
still offered to assist me. I had never been in a situation like this
before. For one of the first times in my life I wasn't sure how to
react. I had always returned kindness with hatred, but I felt
different.
"I... I...sure, I suppose," From that moment I began an odd friendship with Hermione. I considered it more of a business partnership rather than a friendship. During the night time we would help each other with our assignments and during the day we live our own lives. We wouldn't sit together or talk. As I said it was a relationship irrelevant to our emotions and only created to possibly better our grades.
At the breakfast table I began to write a letter to Mage. She was my
closest companion in the Immortals. Had that not been an Ophiuchus
that came to assassinate me that night? I don't understand. Who was
that man then? Why did I survive that fall and land here? It was like
a portal. I remember the strong wind that blew when I heard the
screams. And there was something else. That pain on my wrist under
this metal cuff. Did it save me? Why? I was happy with death. Why
couldn't it just leave me be?
In the letter I would ask Mage to send my personals. This included two
changes of clothes, my laptop, and my charcoals (I've never told
anyone this, but I have a sincere passion for drawing. Everything here
is new. I must say over the years I have learned how to entertain
myself, since I prefer to be alone. I want to draw everything. The
turrets, the sky ceiling, and especially the people. I'm especially
interested in the Professors. Of course, I don't think that I could
catch the true essence of truth in Dumbledore's eyes.) Oh, I almost
forgot, I need to tell her to also send my "working gear." This is
what I use when I'm on a job. It includes my weapons, color contacts,
and "make-up." (Oh, and when I say make-up I mean the certain details
I had to add to my body to be accepted by my peers; such as highlight
formula, white face powder, dark red and black lipstick, eyeliner, and
a spike dog collar. The Goth forte really rocks. You can get into any
club around the city.)
Now before class starts I'd better get up to that owlery and send
this letter. I ran up several stairs until I reached a trap door with
a ladder leading to it. I climbed up the rickety ladder and pushed
open the door. Light filtered through the cracks in the wooden
shingles. A musty smell reeking of dust and feathers decked the room.
Through the shadows I could see pairs of yellow eyes glowing. The owls
were chirping friendly to each other. I walked to the closest owl; a
large sandy Barn Owl.
"Er... will you take this to Mage in London on 2791 Crescent Street,
Apartment 215," I asked hesitantly.
The owl screeched in acknowledgement and took the letter from me
before taking to the skies through a small hole in the roof. That's
over with. Now, what class do I have. Potions at 8:30 a.m. Oh crap!
I'm late!
I jumped down the ladder; ignoring my sore shoulder. I flew down the
staircases and into the dungeons. I held my robes closer to me,
because the air had suddenly turned crisp. I burst through the dungeon
door to find the class had already started and Professor Snape writing
directions on the board. I stood finding myself cracking my knuckles
again and staring about nervously.
"So, you finally decided to join us, Gryffindor," he snarled.
I stayed silent. Don't mess with me.
"I suppose just because you found favoritism with Professor Dumbledore
you think you can slack... well, that is a dangerous misconception," he
continued to hiss.
I remained standing quietly in the middle of the room as he circled me
like a wolf preparing for the kill. Alright now you're making me mad!
I am not to be inspected like I'm a piece of merchandise!
"Fine. Since you think you know everything already about this class,
and you don't think you need to show up on time... let's test your
knowledge," he mused angrily, "What do you add to the Chamela potion
to get it to separate into two parts: mercury and Wyvern saliva?"
After a few moments of thinking I answered, despite the furious waving
of the same bushy-haired girl I had seen that morning.
"You would need to use the hair of a Maenag," I answered maliciously.
By the displeased look on his face I had answered correct. I sneered
before taking a seat near the back of the class. During the class we
mixed an intricate poison. It was slightly more complicated due to the
fact I could only use one hand, but I completed it shortly before
class ended. I left the vile on his desk.
"Oh next time you want to improve your self confidence choose someone
who knows a little less chemistry," I laughed sarcastically.
"Detention and fifty points from Gryffindor," he growled.
We glared at each other. Each of us was trying to intimidate the
other, but I wouldn't back down. You don't scare me. I can see through
your hard shell to your weak insecurities.
I then turned and swept out of the room. I chuckled to myself. This
will be an interesting year. I'm already making enemies and it's only
my first day. I walked down the hallway and away from the chill of the
dungeon. I was almost to the transfiguration class when I felt
suddenly weak. My vision blurred and I fell sideways against a wall.
The stitches burned and paralyzed my body with pain. My books
scattered to the floor and I felt as if a cold cloak had wrapped
itself around my body. I couldn't breath. That's when I heard the
voice. It was soft and low; like the purring of a kitten.
"Atrae le vite. Sormun calle."
I felt a warm touch of breath against my cheek. Before my hazy vision
I could make out a dark shape that was kneeling next to me and
whispering in my ear. Then the frosty noose that had cut off my
breathing was released and I was finally able to cough and gasp for
breath. I looked up, but I was alone once again. My strength had
suddenly returned. What in the hell was that? I picked up my books and
headed to my next class. Professor McGonagoll looked up when I entered
the classroom. She looked over my pale complexion and beckoned me to
her desk.
"Is anything wrong Raven?" she asked sincerely
"No... I just... I just, nothing," I managed to stammer. I felt it was
better not to discuss my experience in the hall. Besides it's none of
her business anyway!
"Then go take a seat. Class is about to begin."
The day dragged on for what seemed for millenniums. How in the heck
have these kids dealt with these boring classes for five years I can
barely stand one day? I found myself falling asleep in Professor Bin's
class. Although I was fortunate enough that someone dropped a book
causing me to jerk awake. Finally the last class, herbology, ended and
I walked back up to the castle. When I reached the girls' dormitory I
found two sets of packages. One consisted of my school supplies and
had a note from Dumbledore that read: Here are your school supplies.
Try out the different wands. You will know which one is right for you.
Have a wonderful school year!
The second pile was my personals I had sent for. Mage hadn't written a
letter. This was disturbing, because I had requested a report on the
clan's progress, and Mage never failed to answer one of my letters...
never!
I had so much work to do that it was quite overwhelming. Shit! I've
never had so much work on one night. What's with this school? Do they
want to work us to death or something? I had a two scroll report for
Professor Bins, a potion to write up and prepare for Professor Snape,
I had to learn how to transfigure a candle into a mouse, and I still
had to organize my newly arrived school supplies. I headed down to the
common room to start my work by the light of the fire. I decided to
begin potion's homework first. I looked around as I came down the
steps and saw the girl with the bushy brown hair. She apparently had
the same idea as myself and was diligently plugging away at the essay.
I set up my cauldron over the flame and started to put in the first
ingredients. I was practicing holding a vile of salamander blood with
my injured hand (I must empress upon you that ever since my shoulder
was hit by that poisoned bullet my whole arm has been practically
paralyzed and only recently have I regained feeling in my fingers.)
when the sudden impulse hit me. My once limp hand convulsed and began
to grasp the vile extremely tight. I tried to pry my fingers from the
vile, but I couldn't. It was like my arm was being controlled. Stop!
What's happening to my hand?! Without warning the vile splintered into
several pieces, sending shards scraping across my face and jabbing
into hand. The contents of the vile spewed over my robes; searing the
skin of my hand that had broken the tube.
"Damn!" I cursed so loudly that it caused the girl studying across
from me to jump. I bent over my hand in agony.
"What happened?" questioned a concerned voice from the corner.
"Nothing!" I mumbled in pain.
"Here, let me see," she demanded. The girl had limberly hopped up from
her arm chair in the corner and had limberly walked over and sat in
front of me. She swiftly grabbed my hand before I could protest and
began inspecting the deep gashes. "Well at least there's no glass
caught in the cuts. Just hold still a minute." She flicked her wand
and a gossamer stream flowed and tightly rapped around my hand. She
continued standing there scrutinizing my appearance as if trying to
remember something.
"Hey! You're that girl that almost choked Stanley Burnette yesterday,
aren't you?" the girl questioned.
"Is that the stupid little bastard's name? That wretch could've gotten
me into a lot of trouble!"
"Well you're the one who almost killed him. He should be the one
holding a grudge."
"Talk for yourself! I can feel toward anyone how I want so, shut up!"
"I just brought up the subject, because every time he sees you he is
scared stiff. I just thought that it would be nice if you apologized."
Ha! Llike that'll happen!
I turned from her and started to clean the mess from the broken vile.
"Listen, I think we started off on the wrong foot. I'm Hermione
Granger and I already know you're Raven..."
"Well, thanks for saving me the time of introduction," I interrupted
derisively.
"You are not a very social person are you?"
"Ya' think?"
"Anyways it's nice to meet you," she concluded.
I collapsed into a chair opposite her. I was tired of having to
"control my emotions" all throughout the day, and here was my chance
to relieve my stress on this idiot and yet I hesitated. Something deep
inside me yearned to talk to this girl. I suppose it wouldn't hurt.
After all, if I'm going to thrive in these surroundings I guess
everyone I meet shouldn't be made an enemy.
"Are you in all my classes?" I offhandedly asked.
"Oh, so you want to speak to me now?" she asked sarcastically
surprised.
"You can answer my question or not, I really don't give a damn! I have
a migraine and I don't feel like dealing with a smart ass." I said
with disgust.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound that way. But yes I am in each
of your classes. I noticed you were working on Snape's assignment. Do
you need help?"
I stopped. Even though I had just been rude to this... Hermione, she
still offered to assist me. I had never been in a situation like this
before. For one of the first times in my life I wasn't sure how to
react. I had always returned kindness with hatred, but I felt
different.
"I... I...sure, I suppose," From that moment I began an odd friendship with Hermione. I considered it more of a business partnership rather than a friendship. During the night time we would help each other with our assignments and during the day we live our own lives. We wouldn't sit together or talk. As I said it was a relationship irrelevant to our emotions and only created to possibly better our grades.