Disclaimer / Author's Note I do not own the Harry Potter Universe or its characters. I merely own the original characters you don't recognise.Thank you for reading. I am very excited to be writing this. It's extremely fun to toy with my idea of another Potter.
Description Aurora J. Potter grew up privileged, with the price of having to follow all the rules that comes with being a respected pure-blood in wizarding society. She can't choose her own clothes, her own friends, or even her own likes and dislikes. Though she soon realises that her thoughts may not be her own either. There is a bounty out for her head, and there is a psychopath determined to collect it.
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Chapter Five
Muggle Tradition
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Have you ever been woken up by seven other girls screaming in unison? I had. And I could safely say that it was not ideal for a girl that was away from home for the first time in a foreign place to be woken up by sounds of fear.
My eyes flew open and instantly began to look around wildly. I drew back the bed curtain, seeing Beth flapping one of her loose shirts in the air as if trying to scare something off, three girls huddled in their beds and clutching their blankets, and two that were standing at the dorm room doors with their uniforms in hand looking like they were debating leaving everyone else here to fend for themselves. At first, my eyes couldn't adjust to whatever it was that was flying around. It was too quick. All I saw was a mix of brown, gold, and white color above us all. When it stopped for just a moment, it put itself to the ceiling and I could see it clearly then.
It was a man. In the girls' dorms. Stuck on our ceiling and looking quite drowsy and sullen. I did the same as the others and chose to clutch my sheets.
"Well?" I spoke loudly towards the girls near the door. They just stood there hoping the issue would go away on it's own. The guy looked like he had no intentions of leaving, either. "Go get someone - a - a prexy or something!"
"I'm sorry," said the ghost glumly. He rubbed at his eyes and his hair dropped in front of his face as he hung "I only wanted to sleep."
"Under my bed?" Beth shrieked, holding her shirt in front of her like some sort of shield. The two girls had rushed out of the room by now, leaving the door open and beginning to yell down the hall. The ghost seemed to take this as a chance to go a bail as he saw the door - mumbling something to himself about finding another place to sleep. Beth let out a squeak when he'd rushed past her and caused her to drop her shirt. Then added; "Creep!"
I stared at the way it had gone out for a moment with my mouth slightly hung open, then looked to the others for some explanation on what the hell that thing was. Beth seemed to be trying to catch her breath, being the only one brave enough to actually try and fight whatever that was. The others began to climb out of their beds, warily looking around in case there were more. I followed their lead, shivering when my bare feet touched the cold white tiles.
It didn't take long for the two girls to come rushing back in, a prexy right behind them with his wand drawn. I'd thought that the ghost had come back for round two or something and I was ready to abandon the rest of them. The older boy looked around cautiously, but saw that nothing was amiss.
"Where is he?" The boy asked - more like demanded - us. "The man in your dorms?"
I cringed, only being left to imagine what those two idiots must have went and told him. They'd made it sound as if one of the staff or an older guy had snuck their way under Quimbie's bed. I swallowed the now forming anxiety and forced myself to speak up.
"It - I think It was a ghost," I managed to get out. Call me stupid, but I'd also felt as though I didn't want this boy in our dorms either. They could have just gotten a female prexy. I cast the thought from my mind as quickly as it'd come. The boy immediately lowered his wand upon what I'd said and pursed his lips.
"Oh, so you've met Poppy," when he said it, it sounded as though it was more of a bitter statement than it was a question. Maybe a mix of both. "He -"
"Poppy?" A girl that'd refused to leave her bed had cur off whatever it was he had been about to say, her eyes narrowed at the prexy as if he were suddenly the one guilty of bringing the ghost in here.
I was thinking the same as her, aside from the probable accusations she may have conjured up. Just a second ago a man was flying around our room and sleeping under one of our beds and suddenly it wasn't a big deal. I'd certainly be telling Anne of this when I wrote to her.
"Just a poltergeist that likes to sleep under beds," he waved off. "He's harmless."
Nobody seemed to move. We didn't believe him.
"Get ready for class," The prexy had turned to leave, then paused and turned back to the room as he suddenly had remembered something. He looked between all of us. "By the way, which one of you is Aurora James Potter?"
There had been no reason for him to put my middle name in it. I cringed, my expression tightening inti a heavy glare towards the older boy and I slowly rose my hand as a couple of eyes turned to me. This left me with the thought that they were absolutely no help at all. Then I'd questioned what I'd been wanted for in the first place until I saw him pull a grey slip from his pocket and hand it to me, the signature of Headmaster Knox that was written in beautiful calligraphy.
"Knox wants you in his office," he told me with a nod. "You didn't have your ticket on the railway."
That's reminded me, it could have been in my luggage somehow. I could check, since they were kicking up such a damn fuss about this stupid ticket. Had I known it would be this big if a deal I would have glued it to my person. I snatched the slip from him rudely, sneering at him.
"It's just a dumb ticket," I'd snapped, unable to take back my words and actions as soom as I did. I'd meant to merely think the last part, but it slipped: "But whatever."
He grimaced, but nevertheless said nothing to me and had taken his leave. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I'd turned to my trunk and began to dig for my clothes. Unfortunately, I felt someone staring at my back. Out of the corner of my eye I could see such a severe disapproving glare from Quimbie that I swore it could burn holes into my side. For a second I'd pretended that I didn't notice her and tried to continue on, despite it causing me to just shuffle my things around mindlessly due to me forgetting what I was even supposed to be looking for.
My nerves were getting to me. I felt as if I should be anxious about something, but didn't know what.
I managed to desperately pull together some courage.
"Can I help you?" I'd asked the girl, facing her. "Staring is rude, Crumbie."
Her gaze faltered at my nickname. A couple of girls had stopped to look, the others dubbing it as something they'd rather not get into and pulling their uniforms together. Beth gathered her composure quickly and rose her chin, trying to assert some sort of nonexistent dominance.
"Quimbie," she'd corrected hotly. "And you had no right to speak to the prexy as you did."
I'd hesitated, debating on whether or not I should look at her. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a tad nervous. That for some reason there was something deep in side of me that was kicking myself for having already gotten on the bad side of some people. I wasn't going to sit here and pretend that I hadn't heard the gossip at dinner last night about the boy on the train and what I'd said to him. There had been others right next to us that'd obviously heard. Between that and my last name, I was a fool to think I'd be easily forgotten.
It made me angry.
It wasn't fair that I could never say or do the right things. It wasn't my fault. I didn't know what to say or what to do. It was as if I had no choice in whether or not I messed up or not. My brows furrowed as I tried to kick it out of my mind. I couldn't. It was how my luck went and how it would always be. Anything bas that could happen to me does happen. Sometimes by coincidence. Either that or my bad fortune was just predictable.
"I don't care," I bit out at her. I did care. Just a little bit, though. My attention went back to what I now remembered was my uniform. Beth seethed from behind me and I heard murmurs then.
"Just leave her, it's not worth it," I'd heard a voice tell her lowly. There was something said about me being privileged or something. I pressed my lips together tightly and went to the bathroom with my uniform to freshen up alone.
They're only jealous, something in my mind told me. Jealous that you have things that they could only wish for.
But what did I have that they didn't?
I looked at myself in the mirror and looked over my face, deciding how I should wear my hair today. If I should ditch the bangs. Or if my ginger hair would even match with my blue and cranberry colored uniform. And to match, my silver house badge with my name and year on it. I pinned it to the left side of my chest and wore it proudly.
Who needed them?
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"Oh, my."
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I didn't need anyone's help to find the office. Not because I knew where it was myself, but because I refused to accept help from anyone that offered to take me there. Just in case Crumbie went and blabbed her big mouth to anyone within range that was willing to listen to her. In my mind, I was not on her bad side. She was on mine.
And on that note, I was completely lost.
I seethed, wondering how on earth a castle as large as this didn't have some sort of map or directory to go along with it. Cursing under my breath, I stopped in a hallway near the girls' toilets.
"Sure, trust me to know where the hell I'm going," My bitterness was practically dripping like venom in my voice. First, I'm woken up by stupid screaming. Then, I'd had a run in with that stupid priss and the soul sucking realization that I'd have to share a dorm room with her for the next seven years. Unless I could somehow convince a teacher to have her switch houses somehow. Surely, the pukwudgie statue had chosen her as well?
There was a hum amongst the chatter. Which was fascinating due to the fact that everyone was at the dining hall, including most teachers. It was the portraits. That talked amongst one another and moved on their own.
"The headmaster's office is that way," said a female voice with a chuckle. I turned to a particular portrait that hung above a white wooden bench. She had nice hair, I noted. The darkest and longest of brown hair that I could only assume was tied back into a rather messy ponytail. She had her finger pointed down the hall. "Make sure to stop at the circular archway with the pillers holding it up. You'll see a light brown door."
I only cocked my head to the side to get a better look at her. She mimicked my movements, forcing a smile upon her face. One of those looks that adults gave me when they were about to say that I was adorable or something.
"The portrait on his door requires a password to get in, though," now she seemed to chuckle anxiously. I realised maybe that I'd been making her uncomfortable. I'd merely was fascinated and she'd spoken to me so suddenly. Then she added: "Best of luck to you, though. He's quite difficult. Tell my husband I said hello."
Her husband was the portrait on the headmaster's door. I nodded to her and she waved me goodbye as I made my way down the hallway, looking at as many portraits as I possibly could. They didn't mind me. They were - quite literally - in their own little world. I'd had a hard time watching where I was going, but I'd soon noticed the archway with the portrait in the middle.
It was a man, shoulder length brown hair and the nicest eyes I thought I'd ever seen on someone. He had on a uniform that made him look like a soldier fighting in a war. He'd been speaking with another portrait next to the door when he noticed my small form standing before him, a little too close to the door for his liking, apparently.
"Password?" He'd asked me. I didn't have one. Either the prexy had forgotten to give it to me or I'd forgotten to ask. Yet, it was better to blame someone else than myself.
"I don't have one," I replied. At first I tried to look around him for some sort of clue that could help me. When I couldn't, I looked back up at him. "The headmaster asked to see me."
The portrait shook his head, a regretful look coming about his face.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you in without a password," he told me. Then came a cheeky grin. "Unless you can answer one of my fine riddles."
"A riddle?" I'd echoed. Never was a fan of riddles, no. They confused me. Only left me to think on them the whole day and got frustrated when nobody else would tell me. That was usually how it went. "I don't do riddles."
He tut-tutted me like a small child. Somehow he was now finding amusement out of this and I let out a breath. I was hungry and wanted to get this over with so I wouldn't miss breakfast before my first classes began. I'd even been told that our schedules would be handed out at breakfast by our head of house. Here I was wasting my precious time.
"Then, I suppose we can get comfortable and get to know one another," he laughed. I'd only seethed. He was annoying me and he was lucky I didn't want Anne charged with property damage or something. His eyes flicked down to my shoes and all the way up to my hair, seeing what exactly he was dealing with. "What is your name?"
I scoffed. He wouldn't even let me in and he was asking for my name.
"None of your business," I replied snootily. "I just want to get in."
"Well, tough," he crossed his arms over his chest and thought for a bit. "If I was a portrait for any other door I would've let you in by now, but I'm charmed to rip to shreds if I let someone in without the password."
Oh, I thought. Stupid me. Now, I felt like a meanie. Yet there was nothing I could do about it. It wasn't as if the password would suddenly be written on the back of my hand. Frowning, I looked at the floor tiles to gather my thoughts. Or, maybe wait for the headmaster to come. It got awkward, just standing there in front of him while he looked for something to say to me. I turned my head towards one of the benches in the archway and sat down, defeated. I heard him clear his throat.
"Alexander Hamilton," he introduced himself first. The name sounded familiar. My eyes drifted to him as I tried to go over where I'd learned of it.
The first thing I'd thought of was Dewie Hamilton,a fellow pureblood that'd taken pride in his line and the work his family put in to restore its purity by whatever means. If I didn't know of him, then perhaps he wasn'r of pure blood. Otherwise his name would be better known to me. Yet, he was dead if his portrait was speaking to me. I questioned whether or not it was truly that bad to speak to him then. I'd have to write to Anne about it.
Or, she didn't have to know of it at all.
"Aurora," I told him. Then warily added: '"Potter."
He paused, as everyone did when they heard me correctly. I wondered how the hell he even knew that name. This was getting irritating, honestly. It was quickly growing very old to me. I refused to meet his eyes after that. But I felt his on me, though.
"Potter," he hummed. "I knew of a Hardwin Potter back when I was, you know, breathing."
He meant it as a joke, so I'd found it appropriate to laugh. Hamilton took this as a sign that all was well. So he spoke to keep me entertained until the headmaster made an appearance. That took the next twenty or so minutes. I hoped that he'd at least give me an apple or something to tie me over until lunch. When I saw him, he looked as though he'd come from the opposite direction of the dining hall. He looked sick. His skin was pale and he was holding his stomach as if someone had kicked him in it. I could even see the sweat on his brow.
He paused when he saw me. It looked like he was trying to remember why he'd asked for me in the first place. By now, the irritation had long turned to anger at having to miss breakfast. My mind had even completely disregarded any concern for his appearance or wellbeing because of it. All of this because of a damn ticket. Unbelievable.
"Do you have food in your office?" I sneered at him, pushing myself from the bench. Hamilton furrowed his brows at the headmaster, being the only one of us who cared for him at this moment. "Since you made me miss breakfast?"
He took the time to register my words before he'd narrowed his eyes.
"Watch your tongue, Potter," he warned. Both of my eyebrows rose. He actually remembered my name, but couldn't remember why he'd called me here. "Come into my office." He turned to the portrait. Hamilton crossed his arms and stubbornly asked for the password, much to my amusement.
"This is my office," said the headmaster.
"And if that happens to change anything, I shall let you know," the portrait replied sarcastically. "Until then, password?"
The headmaster mumbled something I couldn't hear under his breath. I'd almost thought that he didn't trust me, putting it sarcastically. I followed him in, immediately in awe by the shelves of books that replaced every wall and went as high as the ceiling. In the middle, a small spiral staircase that led to his desk and two chairs that faced him. Perhaps for misbehaved students that were sent here. Like me, now that I remembered. He ushered me up the stairs as if I didn't know already and took his place behind his desk as he folded his hands neatly in front of him.
"So," he began slowly, looking me over. "What brings you here today?"
I leaned back in my seat. This entire time I could have just pretended to have came here and made it to breakfast. That would have been the end of it. My mind began to process the stupidity of it all. If he hadn't been the headmaster, I could have sworn that I was capable of delivering a hard kick to the shins. And because I couldn't do exactly that, I resorted for my imagination instead to tie me over until only Isolt knew what.
I began to bounce my leg, moving my hand there to give it a hard squeeze in hopes that it could persuade my nerves to leave me alone. This was technically my first day. I didn't want to ruin it. The back of my head kept reminding me that I'd waited for this for far too long to mess it all up now. I tried to be as tame as possible.
"I thought you would know, sir," I gritted out through my teeth. My stomach was growling for food. Knox didn't seem to notice my suffering. He frowned at my attitude.
"Well, I don't," he'd told me. "Did a prexy send you?"
I told him that they did. And told him about the stupid ticket and couldn't help but ask why there was so much fuss surrounding this ticket. His students were missing breakfast over it. Valuable food that was going to go to waste now that I wasn't there to eat it.
Knox coughed into his handkerchief. I saw something dark red on it that I couldn't make out. He'd tossed it into the bin by his desk face down before I had a chance to look at it properly. He continued with a forced smile, ignoring the watering in his eyes as if nothing were happening. I shifted uncomfortably, anxious to just get it over with and at least try and make it to my first class. He seemed to be in a hurry to get me out of here, too. He'd begun to talk, but stopped when he voice sounded like it was gargling salt. He cleared his throat before he continued.
"Well, Aurora - "
"Potter," I corrected. Anne had always told me to never let anyone have the pleasure of calling me by my first name if they didn't know me that well. Or, if I didn't deem them worthy enough. This man had made me miss out on freshly cooked food and couldn't even remember why he'd brought me here. We were certainly not starting off on good terms. At all.
Knox stared at me blankly.
"Potter," he echoed for me as proof he understood. That was much more like it. "As I was saying, a ticket comes with attached with your acceptance letter. Easily looked over, honestly. But every student needs it as proof that they're - you know - a witch or wizard. If you get on the train without one, how is anyone to know that you are or aren't?"
Right.
"So, it's a rather serious thing, you see," he nodded and reached to the side of his desk. He tugged open a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. I tried to lean forward to see what he was writing. "And by you forgetting your ticket, it's kinda like you didn't get your letter at all as well."
I still didn't see why they were making it this big of a deal. To have to go through all of this for a slip of thick paper that I could have sworn I'd had just the night before. I'd even looked in my luggage and it hadn't been there. Strange. And infuriating. I suppose that it didn't really matter now. It was gone and there was nothing I could do to get it back.
My curiosity wondered what he was writing, but I refrained from asking. I had the bright idea that if I just stayed silent that I'd get out sooner. Then, he stood up and turned to the shelf behind him and shuffled through documents. I tried to be patient, really. But I couldn't contain the exaggerated breath that escaped me.
"Here you are," he turned around handed me a small slip and one sheet of paper. "Your late slip and your class schedule. Looks like you have World History of Magic first with Mr. Parr."
The first thing that went through my mind was the fact that he was letting me off with a warning after all of this. I couldn't decide if I was angry about it or relieved. But after another cough and a hack I realised he wanted to be left alone. He sent me on my way, leaving me to navigate the halls with only the help of portraits.
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"That's filthy."
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There was only a half hour left of class by the time I'd finally found it on the far side of the school on the second floor. Heads turned to me as I walked in. Quimbie was the first to scoff at my tardiness which was followed by the voice of the only one I could assume was Mr. Parr. He was rather pudgy with a round pink face and kind eyes that somehow made me feel as though I weren't in trouble.
"You're late," he glumly reminded me. "Miss. . ?"
"Aurora," I knew he'd wanted my surname but he'd figure it out soon enough. I warily looked around at the faces that seemed to be far too nosy to pay attention to their own work, taking nervous steps to the teacher and handing him my tardiness slip with the signed signature of the headmaster. He examined it, and suddenly he perked up from his sad demeanor knowing that it wasn't my fault I had been late.
"Right over there," he said, gesturing with the slip over to the desk in the front row. Both seats were empty and I wondered why nobody wanted to sit in them. Despite my hesitation I took my seat anyway and kicked my backpack under my chair. There was a sheet of paper already om the table. I looked at the boy next to me. He felt my eyes on him and turned his body so I could not look at his work. I managed to read only his name: Auggie Comb.
I pursed my lips and decided to try my luck.
"Um," my eyes tried so hard not to look at his sheet of paper. "Why isn't anyone else sitting in the front row besides us?"
He paused at my question, looked to the teacher to see if Mr. Parr was listening - he was reading a novel at his desk - and turned to me, lowering his voice to a subtle whisper.
"He's a no-maj," he informed me, jerking a head at the man. For a moment I was thrown off by the term. Anne had always used 'muggle' my whole life. Then, it hit me. I couldn't help but press my lips into a thin line, my eyes drifting to the man with an anxious severity that did not go unnoticed by my peer. He seemed confused, and he quickly added something in defense of the man. "Told us in the beginning of class when you weren't here. We like him so far, he just gave us a bit of a shock is all."
My lip then curled when I'd taken the time to get over myself. I couldn't seem to grasp the fact that a muggle was even allowed in the place. I could have sworn that there was a charm to make the place invisible to muggle eyes. It was absolutely beyond me.
"I thought his kind weren't allowed to know of us?" I assumed the boy would agree with me, naturally. He was a wizard. Surely he couldn't agree with being taught by a mere muggle. But the silence that followed between us and the look he gave me then told me otherwise. I clamped my mouth shut then.
"His kind?" he repeated my words with bitterness covering his tone. He said it a little bit louder than before and I instinctively looked around to see if anyone had heard. Only the two people behind us, who was now staring. Judging me. Whispering. Suddenly, I'd wanted to take back my words. Play it off like it wasn't what I meant, for some reason. I just turned away from him, feeling my face go a bit hot and strained. My calculating gaze could have burnt holes through the desk in front of me.
He didn't look away from me for a long and silent moment, then he began to pay attention to his work. As did I. Then I came to the realization that I would truly do anything to get out of this room. Including classwork.
Suddenly I felt lonely. A feeling that I thought was rather new to me. My mind couldn't help but try and go over all the ways I'd messed up so far, and how. These were things that I'd been taught to think my entire life. Things that were the right way of thinking. I was a witch. These people magical all the same. Surely, I assumed that they would naturally take more pride in that. Confusion fell over me and my mind drifted to Anne. She was not wrong, I was sure of it. She'd warned me of today's society - told me that they had no pride. That they had accepted muggles and mudbloods alike because they've come to terms with the fact that there was nothing they could do about it. Told me that they were secretly ashamed of themselves and that I'd never have a reason to be. Because she taught me to take pride in who I am, unlike everyone else.
Yet, why did people seem to look at me so harshly whenever I showed that pride?
It didn't make any sense to me. And I couldn't figure out why it was hurting me and that I seemed to be one of the only ones. Singled out, suddenly. I wondered how Dora Calderon was doing, knowing that she shared the same beliefs. Or Dewie Hamilton. Were they as vocal as I am?
I forced all of my attention onto my work. Then, I frowned.
All of the questions were just stuff about our personal likes and dislikes. Favorite foods. Favorite pass times. This, that, and the other. At the top it was titled 'Getting to Know You', followed by a brief instruction underneath that we would be sharing with the rest of the class tomorrow so we could all come to be acquainted with our classmates. It didn't sound so bad. After all, It wasn't as if I weren't used to public speeches from years of having to be forced to do so.
Yet I didn't understand most of the things on the paper. Things like a 'favorite video game' and 'movie'. I thought to ask someone, but decided it would be better to keep it to myself. I didn't want to prove myself more ignorant than the people around me.
So I spent all of my time answering the questions that I did know. Favorite food being a nice chicken pesto with a seasoned cooking draught potion slathered on top that made a person have food dreams that night. So far, the only animal I really liked was my cat, Lookie. So that was what I put down for my favorite animal. And I put down my default answer of wandless magic when asked of my aspirations, goals of any kind, or my favorite book. Then I'd try my hand at drawing on the back of the paper when I'd done all that I could.
I couldn't tell how long it'd been, but soon an odd fairy-like chime had rang throughout the classroom that'd startled me due to how sudden it had been. My peers hesitated for a moment.
"That concludes our first day off class," Mr. Parr clasped his hands together and allowed a cheerful smile to come about his face at what was almost a successful first hour, apologising for looking track of the time and not warning us to pack our things before hand. Almost. The students began to file out after they cleaned after themselves, some in pairs as they had already become fast friends.
I began to copy, putting my backpack over both shoulders and adjusting my skirt and robes and heading towards the door, until an intense voice called my name from behind.
"Miss Potter?" It was Mr. Parr. He didn't sound happy. I turned, though. And Auggie Comb was standing side by side with the teacher, giving me an icy stare. It didn't take a potions master to put two and two together, especially when he'd began to rush out. He made sure to give my shoulder a nice bump on his way. I winced at the rough contact.
"Mr. Parr?" I addressed back, more harshly than I'd meant it to come out. He merely made a gesture with his finger for me, my heart beginning to beat a little faster than normal.
He looked down at me, taking a deep breath and then looking away from me as if the sight hurt him.
"Detention, Miss Potter," he told me. My mouth hung open a bit, but I closed it. I tried to find some way to defend myself. I couldn't get detention on the first day. But whatever I'd managed to come up with, he wouldn't hear of it and continued. "I have no tolerance for those kinds of thoughts in my classroom. Mr. Comb was extremely distressed, as were the students behind you."
"Mr. Parr, I was only - but I thought - " I cut myself off. Anything that I said in my head before it came out sounded stupid to even me. I had nothing. This angered me, and my fist balled by my sides.
"See me back here tonight at eight O'clock," was all he told me. "I have a few things for you to clean."
He ushered me out of his classroom. My mood now sour, I sent him a hateful glare and pushed past the few students who'd files in for his class to get to the door. Like he'd know anything about running a wizarding classroom.
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"Little witch, little witch."
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It was funny how fast things seemed to spread. That boy, Auggie Comb, seemed to be on a tattling spree. By lunch there were people talking about me. Pointing. Commenting. Some Thunderbird girl even had the gall to come up to me and ask me directly herself. Which was how I knew it was Auggie. It seemed he was taking every opportunity to tell someone when he was asked what was wrong with him. Soon, I'd learned that he was a mudblood. Probably why he took it so personally.
And I tried my best to ignore it all and I walked through the halls towards the dining hall with my head held high. It was almost telling them that I didn't listen to whispers. And that I didn't care what they had to say. In the inside, though, my blood was simmering.
But you'll do nothing, said a small voice in the back of my head. There it was again, beckoning to me. Taunting me. Absolutely nothing.
I attempted to silence the voice. Yet it seemed the more I tried to do so the worse it got. Wincing, I pushed my bangs back from my forehead and took a deep breath. I could already hear the noice from the dining hall just from outside of the double doors. But I didn't go in just yet. I wanted for someone to go in so I could walk in at the same time as them. To blend in with the crowd so I wasn't singled out. Eventually a group of older boys were on their way, goofing around and laughing amongst themselves. It made me bitter, but I walked in beside them and made my way to my house table.
My mind questioned whether or not it was a blessing or a curse that it was impossible to sit alone due to there being so many students. Otherwise, I knew that there would be people avoiding sitting with me. Looking at my empty plate, I suddenly debated whether or nor I had an appetite anymore. Which said a lot for me.
Looking around me, I thought I could at least try and make an attempt once more. Surely, not everyone listened to school gossip. I was wrong, though. I happened to notice a gathering of older kids look away quickly when I'd turned their way. The motivation was lost again. I was left to listen to their conversations. Some even spoke at a normal level, as if they couldn't care less if I heard or not.
"I didn't think it was true at first when Davis told me what she'd said to him on the railway," said a boy. "But after seeing Auggie so upset. . ?"
He seemed to trail off after that, like he'd expected someone to finish his thought for him. I found myself straining my ears to listen, as if my mind searched for a further reason on its own to be hurt.
"Poor boy is absolutely baffled," replied a girl in agreement. My leg began to bounce and I gripped the side of my seat tightly. She continued. "Sad that it had to start out that way."
"She's a first year too, you know," another girl had swooped in to defend me. I tried to look at her without turning my head a single inch. I couldn't. But I listened to her as she continued. "Just a child that was no doubt raised that way. She doesn't know any better."
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't unstick my bottom from the seat. I was stuck, frozen in time it seemed. Her words were swirling in my head as my mind tried to make some sort of sense of what she was saying. My opinions - my thoughts - were my own, were they not? Even if I'd been raised another way, I would still think the same things and have my opinions. Even if my mother and father had stuck around to raise me their way.
"Well, her older brother knew better at that age," the first girl had piped up bitterly. The others had either set down their forks to look at her or did the opposite and turned away.
Brother? I didn't have a brother. Never had, never will. When I'd gotten the Potter family tree as a quilt, It didn't show that my parents even had another child. And I'd spent quite some time looking into the faces of my mother and father. It was just me. Although, I'd once imagined what it'd be like to have a sister. Someone that loved me no matter what and stuck by my side through times like these. I was starting to feel alone, and the only person that'd had a decent conversation with me was the portrait on the headmaster's door.
Another seemed to have the same idea.
"And how the hell do you reckon she's some long lost Potter sister?" said another boy who seemed to jump in on their conversation. "The-Boy-Who-Lived is an only child."
The girl then asked him how to explain my surname. To which some of them had scoffed. As far as I'd been told, 'Potter' was a common last name. At least, that's what I'd thought. Another had countered with the fact that it was a common name for muggles, not witches and wizards. That didn't change the fact that I thought they were ignorant, though. Speaking of things that was not only none of their business but something that they had absolutely no knowledge of. I was absolutely not The-Boy-Who-Lived's sister.
I was, however, his close cousin.
Still, that did not make him 'family' to me. I've never met him, nor do I have any intentions to ever do so. I share his blood. I share a last name with him. We share a family lineage. But that was where I drew the line at where the similarities end. I'd seen enough of him in the news so far, as Anne had subscribed and paid extra to receive a subscription of The Daily Prophet to be delivered all the way here from a different country. And what I saw didn't exactly appeal to me.
Soon, I couldn't listen to them anymore. It pained me to hear it and I couldn't understand how It was possible to compare me to someone I've never met nor wanted anything to do with.
My mind wandered to what Anne had told me the night of my birthday party. How my father and Uncle James had died on such bad terms when they'd been such close cousins growing up. I knew that if I ever Harry Potter that we'd end up the same way. Consistently on bad terms. Fighting. Grief. I was doing him a favor by not being anywhere near him. I did wonder if he knew of me, though. Just like I knew of him.
I ignored the small ache I felt in my chest when I thought of him.
"Wow, Aurora," said a familiar drawling voice from behind me. Dora Calderon. She came alone, evidently not having any luck making any friends on the first day. Yet, she still stood high and mighty. "You're already quite famous and its not even two o'clock."
My attention went back to my empty plate to ignore her. She waited for me to react. I only gritted my teeth, finding that she was very lucky that retaliating against her would be Anne's ultimate doom.
"Must run in the family," she continued upon my silence. Then, she took to the empty seat beside me and smiled like we were old school friends. The only thing that moved were my eyes. Her audacity astounded me. I wanted so badly to tell her to go back eat at her table along with the rest of her useless house. It was where she belonged. With the students that were chosen to amount to nothing.
I began to pile my plate so she wouldn't suspect anything wrong with me and pounce on that. Anne had told me that maybe if I just ignored her long enough she would tire herself out and go away. After all this time I'd forgotten how persistent a pest could be, though.
"I'm making friends so far," she hummed a tune, looking like she hadn't a care in the world as she used the plate in front of her and filled it with green beans. I knew it was a lie. At least, I assumed it was for my own comfort. Then she continued. "Looks like you're having a bit of trouble though, aren't you?"
Don't give her the time of day, I'd reminded myself that she wasn't worth it. It was at least some of the things that came in handy at therapy to control my anger. Pick my battles if they are worth it. Breathing. Even temple touching to relax me. I wouldn't be doing that in public, though. My last resort was telling myself that Dora wanted a reaction out of me. She'd take more pleasure in me shoving my fist into her face like I imagined doing often than me just ignoring her.
The fact that she began to frown actually encouraged me.
"Quiet, are you?" She was still trying to make a sorry attempt. "I wonder why."
And suddenly the smile was back onto her face, which had knocked any confidence that got into me. The fact that she kept taking a jab at how I had no friends and that I now ruined my chances at ever making any quickly turned my irritation to anger. The worst part was that I couldn't say a damn thing.
I abruptly stood up, abandoning my plate of food and heading out of the dining hall. I couldn't eat a single bite.
"You're absolutely adorable."
My first day had been miserable and silent on my part. After lunch, I was too anxious to try and speak to anyone else for the rest of the day out of fear that whatever I said would hurt or offend someone. I tried to ask myself why I cared about what they had to say about me. Or, what they thought. None of these people knew me and I didn't know them. But the sting that I've been feeling throughout the entire day hurt more and more as the hours passed. I had to endure every stare, every comment, every finger pointed at my direction.
I was almost glad it was the end of the day.
It didn't make anything go away, but there was nothing but silence through the empty halls - save for the occasional prexy that came to check for my travel slips when they saw me wandering. Purposefully, I'd made myself late to avoid confrontation. As I did, there hung the only portrait that was awake on that wall. The one that'd been so kind to me earlier by telling me where the office had been. I never got her name. Yet, I felt that I needed the reassurance that I was desperate to get from someone. I'd passed her portrait many times without a word today. Yet, she never failed to wave to me when she saw me.
"Students are supposed to be in bed," The portrait had told me in a gentle whisper. I could have told her the same thing, seeing almost every other portrait snoring or drooling. Looking down shyly, I'd only interlocked my hands in front of me and fiddled with my thumbs. The pretty woman hummed questionably. "Is there something I can do for you, dear?"
I looked towards both ends of the halls in case someone heard or seen me. Suddenly, my nerves began to get the best of me. I couldn't speak to her. The words kept getting caught in my throat whenever I'd tried. Just as she furrowed her her brows in concern I looked up at her.
"I'm sorry," I'd realised that I never even told her my name. Yet she seemed to not even be focused on that. She questioned whether or not I was alright, to which I merely mumbled my name to her. It was a desperate attempt at just getting my name out without feeling a glare being returned for once.
Yet, those chances were slim. She paused in a way that immediately told me that she'd hears the gossip as well. I didn't blame her. After all, she was a mere portrait who had no choice but to just hang on a wall all day and look at all the students. Then, she relaxed and after me a smile. The confidence I'd felt from what I chose to take as a kind peace offering was enough to make me feel as though I weren't so lonely. That at least someone didn't hate me.
"Eliza Hamilton," Introduced the woman with a smile. "What are you doing out this late?"
Telling her that I had detention was what came to mind at first. I didn't want her to think foul of me because it was only my first day and I'd been sent to the office and had detention. So, I'd chosen to lie.
"I'm hungry," I offered. Immediately, she frowned.
"Do not lie," she'd scolded. Her tone indicated that she took lying very personal. It was sharp. Not to mention, she suddenly gave me the impression that she already knew why I was up and merely gave me a chance to be honest. I failed miserably. Shrinking shamefully, I was reluctant to meet her gaze. On the contrary of what I thought at first, her expression was still soft. I wondered how someone could be so comforting and so scary at the same time. Maybe because it wasn't every day you talked to a portrait.
I shuffled my feet nervously.
"Detention," I corrected myself. "With a muggle teacher."
It'd slipped. Again. I recoiled at my own words at her silence. Still, she held her kind smile. It never faltered. Not even for a moment.
"You'd best not be late then, little one," she said encouragingly. The woman amazed me. And I listened for once when she'd waved her hands at me in a way to shoo me off to where I was supposed to be. With one last thankful look at her, I'd wandered off, being sure to remember where Mr. Parr's classroom had been.
I'd already felt a headache coming on even before I'd reached the classroom door, which was already slightly ajar with the room dimly lit by a candle as to not disturb the nearby portraits who tried to sleep. Warily, I pushed the door open a little more with just the tip of my finger and peeked inside. There he was, doing what I guessed was some light reading. He couldn't be grading papers, since there was no work to turn in. He looked up as he seemed to feel my presence. His eyes made a shiver of disgust go down my spine. Anne would be written to about this, I swore it.
"Come in, Miss Potter," he set his book down in front of him and smiled, as if all the animosity that I thought were inevitably between us had mysteriously disappeared. It oddly made me relax. He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk that I assumed he put there for me before I'd arrived. I hesitated for a moment, but silently sat in the chair and kept my head down, eyes glued to the wooden desk. I thought out my words carefully this time.
"What's my punishment?" I forced myself to say. "Cleaning? Writing lines? A dictionary search?"
He seemed unsure what a dictionary search was. It had been something that the pureblood tutor had made us do as punishment - search up dictionary definitions and write down the word, its category, and it's meaning. It lasted for two hours. Which had made me hate schoolwork with a passion. On the stupid bright side, I could use a couple of big words whenever I wanted to show the grown ups that I was mature, too.
I clamped my mouth shut as to not give him any more ideas. Much to my surprise, he seemed to already have an idea of what he'd wanted me to do. He picked his book back up and showed off the cover of it. There on the front in bold white print was the title: 'The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn: By Eric Ives'. It had a creepy, yet fascinating painting of a pretty woman on the cover holding a single rose. What struck me was the golden 'B' necklace she wore. I knew then that I wanted one with my initials on it, too. My mind conjured a beautiful image of a necklace with the letter 'A' around my neck, flashing it proudly to everyone. I'd almost forgotten why I was here until he spoke.
"Quite amazing, isn't it?" he asked kindly, breaking me from my trance. I looked at him quizzically. "A very wonderful woman who's memory often goes a bit forgotten amongst today's generation."
My mouth was glued shut. I listened instead, curious at his words. He traced the edges of the spine gently as he continued speaking.
"Many nowadays think history is boring," he looked at the pages as if they were suddenly lost to him. "But they don't realise the fascination if learning how someone lived - how they died - what they did to have books and movies after them even many years later. To delve your mind into a completely different time period of scandal - of drama - and keep yourself guessing on what really happened."
He paused. His own words seemed to give him such a rush. To be honest, It did the same for me. I was gripped as I really considered his words. It may sound odd, but I found myself fascinated mostly with how they died. When I looked at paintings of people, such as this woman, my mind could hardly register that they no longer walked the earth anymore. One knew that this person was dead with just one measly glance at their paintings. The only questions left to fill.in the mystery of what happened was to find out for yourself.
"The best part is to try and imagine their exact words," he told me with an eager nod. "It's all a mystery that we'll never know. Reading about their stories almost makes you forget that it all really happened."
My eyes went to the cover of the book.
"How did she die?" I asked rather bluntly. The way his expression suddenly went sad made me think I'd said something wrong again. He seemed to debate whether or not I was old enough to know - as I gathered from his low mumbling.
"Her head," he began. "Cut clean off."
There was a slight horror that rose within me at his words. To think of one having their head cut off was something I had trouble imagining - let alone stomaching it. I wondered how badly it hurt. Or how one could even be unfortunate enough to put themselves into that kind of position. I asked him why she'd went out this way. He leaned back in his chair as a grin stretched across his face.
"Now, wouldn't that be a spoiler?" He'd chuckled. He gestured with the corner of his book towards a door at the end of his classroom. "That's my book storage. Labeled in alphabetical order. I recommend 'The Concubine: By Norah Lofts', if you can handle that reading level. Find out for yourself."
I frowned at his words, but for some reason couldn't find it in me to snap at him. Within moments I was looking at shelves of books that went halfway up the wall. At first I was put off by the amount I had to look for. I didn't even like reading. Yet, I did want to find out why this woman had her head cut off. Maybe it would tell me if it hurt. I looked towards the shelf labeled 'T' and traced my finger along the spines to read the titles more clearly. 'The Queen's Confession: By Victoria Holt', 'The Secret History of America: By Manly P. Hall', and so on and so forth. I had no interest in the second book, but I wanted to read about the first one. It was about a queen, so I'd grabbed it with the idea to ask him if I could take this one as well.
Then I found the book he'd recommended. It had a pretty cover to me. The woman looked fairly different on this book than the one the teacher had. I opened the book to read the first sentence, just to check and see if I could sit though it until the end.
Then I'd went over why I'd suddenly agreed to try reading when I'd hated it. Perhaps it'd been driven from my curiosity alone. Maybe I was that much of a sick bastard that I'd wanted to find out this badly why this woman had died. Even a little how she lived. Mr. Parr had sounded like I wouldn't really know unless I read all the wat. Not his exact words, but it was heavily implied to me.
Even after finding the book, I'd lingered for a bit after to see if I could find anything else. Sure, the library was open to all students but at least this way I didn't have a specific return date that could cost me a detention. From what I read in the school packet, that is. I was beginning to think that everything got someone detention in this school.
But maybe detention wouldn't be so bad if it was with Mr. Parr.
I was ready to confront him with the proposition of letting me take the books without any cost and maybe getting them back one day. I turned the light off as I walked out and shut the door behind me, turning to the front of the classroom where Mr. Parr was. His head was face down on the desk with his arm being used as cushion.
"Mr. Parr?" I wondered if he was sleeping already. It was late at night on the first day after all. I'd be asleep, too. I liked to wake early. Stepping closer, I'd noticed the room was even dimmer than before. I could hardly read anything now. I rose my voice and called his name a couple more times, only to get nothing in return. "Mr - "
There was a strange smell that filled my nose then. It smelt of strong iron. Or metal. I couldn't tell which was which. I didn't think I was allowed, but I'd made my way behind his desk to shake him awake.
My hand didn't get to touch him. His body had tipped over onto the cold floor before my I could reach him. His eyes were wide and staring, and the blood had stained his desk in a large puddle that waterfalled into the open cabinet of his documents.
I couldn't tell how loud I screamed, or if I screamed at all. Time seemed to switch between fast and slow for me. By the time the adults that'd barged into the classroom with their wands drawn, they'd found me huddled in the furthest corner with my head in my hands surrounded by my discarded books.
"Hear me now."