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 Seven

Teacher Tradition

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Today was the funeral for Mr. Parr. As announced by the headmaster just last week to give us all room to prepare, it was to be held in the sorting foyer in the afternoon. Coincidentally, as if nature wanted to contribute to the dreary mood, it rained. Hard. And despite my better judgement, Dole had convinced me to attend. At first, I thought that staying in my dorms along with all of the other queasy students who had been told it was optional to attend would be best. For obvious reasons.

But here I was, allowing myself to be led in a single file line away from the dining hall. Wearing nothing but black along with everyone around me and my wand clutched in front of me with both hands.

I was holding my breath. To me, I felt like I wasn't the only one. The silence that hung in the air was deafening and I could hear a strange ringing in my ears. My heart was squeezing painfully tight in my chest and with every step I took I felt the weight of my feet hold me down. It was too late to feign discomfort and run to the dorms to hide.

First, second, and third years were led to the stair cases while the later years got to stand closer to the closed casket. A number of students held flowers in their hands and two older girls were the first to step up. One girl had a single yellow rose that she'd placed on top of the coffin. She had her nose in the air as strong as a soldier and watched as the girl next to her placed three petunias right next to the yellow rose. She broke down, burying her head into the soldier girl's soldier and allowing the tears to fly freely. The other girl held her, clinging to the strength that she had and kissing the sobbing girl on the top of the head.

Clearly, this teacher was quite beloved by many. Even some of the wizarding congress were here, like Minister Lotte. They didn't spare so much as a glance in the younger students' direction. Next to them were unknown adults that I'd never seen. Possibly friends and family of Mr. Parr. I almost forgot that they were muggles.

More students placed flowers on the coffin, and suddenly I wished that I could, too. All I could do was watch helplessly, an unrational guilt pulling me in all directions. When Headmaster Knox spoke, I looked down to my feet and just listened.

"Friends, family, and students," Knox began with a heavy voice. "We gather here today under the most unfortunate circumstances. We grieve the loss of a loved one. A beloved teacher, a father, a son, and a brother. There are no words that can even begin to express the pain that fills this hall today. . ."

I zoned out, as disrespectful as many may find that. But I could no longer bare to listen to any of it. I didn't understand. And because I didn't understand I felt my hands ball tightly into a fist as my frustration towards injustice rose quickly. This was the day, I marked, that I realised that the world was more than unfair. And because it was unfair for everyone, it made it fair after all.

Didn't it?

The people around me began to raise their right arms. I looked at them, along with my first year peers in utter confusion, very questionably. Their heads were now bowed and they all whispered a small spell under their breaths that caused a small, gentle light to illuminate the tips of their wands. Fascinated, I watched with baited breath and thought to try it as well.

I hesitated at first. Then, I raised my hand above my bowed head, feeling how agonizingly heavy my wand became suddenly. Then, whispered under my breath in a choked voice.

"Lumos."

"Please?"

The funeral lasted longer than I'd wanted it to. Students that were third years and younger weren't allowed to go near the casket, to which some third year boys had complained about from the balcony. That being said, I hadn't understood why I had to stay if all I could do was helplessly stand and watch.

I let go of the breath I'd been holding when the prexy led us back to the common room. The second I stepped inside, a couple of people had roughly bumped my shoulders as they passed me. I seethed silently, but said nothing and paused in place. My feet couldn't move, and I debated whether or not I should really go up to my dorm room where a the other girls were waiting for me. My mind conjured a harsh image of being confronted and my senses told me to save my own skin.

I turned on my heel and walked right back out, hoping that I wouldn't be called out for not having a hall pass. It was our day off because of the funeral. So, did I really need a pass to be in the halls? I wouldn't care If I did need one.

Every portrait I passed either looked away in disgust or looked at me with nothing but pity in their eyes. I refused to look at them and focused on my feet instead. I knew they'd heard. It was inevitable. All they had to do day in and day out was hang there and look at everyone. Yet, I still wondered how many of them actually blamed me for what happened. Due to this paranoia, I'd avoided Mr and Mrs. Hamilton ever since. I couldn't bare to face them in case they thought so, too.

Before I knew it, I found myself outside next to the famous statue of our founder: Pure-blood woman Isolt. And like clockwork every day around the same time - the Pukwudgie - William, I surprisingly remembered - polishing the statue with a fresh rag and a bucket of bleach. I must have stared too long because he must have felt me looking. The harshness of his eyes made me swallow.

"Little girls shouldn't wander by themselves," his scratchy voice was even worse. He sounded as if he'd said this about a dozen times before.

"I - I -" should I even speak to him? My nerves prevented me. He scared me more than I cared to admit. But when I saw the way he looked at me: curious, calculative, cautious, I managed to find my voice somehow. It came out firm, knowing that I'd already said this more than just a dozen times: "I didn't do it."

And suddenly I cared for his opinion and waited. The Pukwudgie's expression never changed. My words had no impact. No weight whats so ever. I had no idea if this scared me more or comforted me, but I chose to be comforted and stay silent until he spoke again.

"I know you did not do it," he said, turning back to his polishing as if his words meant nothing. My eyes blinked rapidly, darting in every direction like some explanation to his bold statement would appear. I couldn't feel my feet moving towards him, but he made no move from his spot, only raised both of his eyebrows as if questioning the nerve I had.

"How?"

I'd even began to think that I'd done it, myself. To hear someone say that it hadn't been me with this much certainty for the first time gave a glimmer of hope to prove my innocence. William, with eyes like a vicious bear's, narrowed them at me as if It should be the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because, I saw who did it."

My mouth spoke like it had a mind of its own, losing all composure and self respect that I'd had for myself in an instant and began to beg for an answer. Who'd done it. How had they done it. More importantly, why they'd done it. But William chose silence. Not even a sickening laughter to deepen the evil persona that my mind had created of him.

Did he refuse to speak now?

I wondered what sick game he was playing. My hope began to waver again, much to my fear. But I couldn't let it slip. I couldn't let it be this way. The very thought of having to live with this isolated feeling for the next seven years began to choke me internally. Made the emotion I'd been holding in come out more than It had in the last few weeks. I found myself desperately trying to cling to my composure.

"Mr. William?" I said, taking a deep breath. "Who -"

"I will not say," he sneered. He still refused to look at me. "I owe you nothing, child."

I'd never hated anyone more. I wanted to throw a tantrum. To scream at him. Demand that I get an answer as I stomp my feet. But he scared me so much that I didn't dare try something like that. I was left to stand there and stare at the one who knew all the answers that I couldn't receive. Someone did it, and I was going to find out who. Even if I had to do it myself.

But, at least I was reassured that it hadn't been me.

"Oh."

Poppy took to sleeping under my bed every night. The next night I'd looked under my bed, though, I saw it empty and wondered briefly where he could be. Then I got ready for the day I knew would be dreadful as always. My first instinct was to look around for Dole like I did every morning now. He was my safety, as much as what little pride I had left begged me to word it differently. Dare I say: he was the only friend I had here since everyone was avoiding me like the black plague.

And there he was, waiting for me right near the dining hall doors and talking to a first year boy all too enthusiastically. That is, until that very same boy had seen me coming and decided it was better to head into the hall than be within five feet of me. Dole seemed stunned at how he'd been able to cut his sentence off so suddenly, then looked to me as if nothing happened.

"Have you heard?" He questioned me. "We're getting a new history teacher today. Knox won't be taking over the class anymore."

I felt an odd sensation of fear and relief at this. Knox docked me points for every little thing I missed on an assignment, and I didn't know why. I don't recall doing anything for him to hate me, but maybe it was because he was truly convinced that I really. . .

No, I wouldn't think about that. I refused.

Instead, I thought of who it could possibly be. What they looked like. If they were nice and didn't hound me for not raising my hand in class enough like Knox did. Who could possibly blame me, really, when every time I had someone always had something mean to say to me. The ones that hurt the most was when they pretended to 'whisper' to their friends only to raise their voice loud enough for me to hear them. Really, I was wondering how this had all escalated so fast.

Dole urged me through the door, taking me from my thoughts. He seemed obviously excited about the new teacher. More than I was, honestly. I tried to see at the head table to see if I could see the new teacher, yet the usual were there when I first laid my eyes on them. Then, sitting at the very end was a very familiar face. The face of Marlene Mckinnon. She looked too calm. Collected. Laid back as if she had not a single worry in the world. I watched her, seeing that the potions teacher would try to occasionally make conversation with her or look to explain something. And without even so much as a glance to the other woman, Auntie would nod every so often.

I refused to step any further.

There was no way in hell that I was just going to accept my aunt here at Ilvermorny. She'd watch everything I do, hear everything I say, all of it. I wouldn't even put it past these stupid people to go specifically to her every time I so much as looked at my books the wrong way. Dole stopped with me, wondering why my feet were glued to the floor.

Before I could even think to walk out and just go back to my dorm to wait for classes to start, she caught me staring at her and gave me a classy wave while leaning back in her seat, a relaxed expression coming about her face and a grin tugging at her dark red lips. With one finger, she tossed a bit of dirty blonde hair back away from her face and stared on at the sea of students at her leisure to boss around.

"Aurora, hon, let's sit," Dole ushered me gently. "The food'll be cold. Or worse, eaten."

I was trapped. Beelining for our usual seats at the end of the Horned Serpent table, my eyes refused to turn her way. I was going to act as though I didn't know her in hopes that I could pretend that my situation hadn't got a whole lot worse.

The students got settled, chattering like usual in the ear-splitting can't - hear - your - own - voice kind of way. Because of this, it took Headmaster Knox one booming voice, a glass cup, and a single spoon to get the hall to quiet down down enough for him to speak. All eyes were on him. He forced a smile, looking as sickly and weak as always, and set his glass down in front of him.

"Attention, my dearest students," I couldn't get over how scripted his voice sounded. "I have great news for you all." He stepped to the side and made a gesture with his hands for someone to stand next to him. Auntie stood with confidence, striding over to stand next to the headmaster and gave the same wave to the sea of students that she'd given me. Knox continued. "As much as we all loved and adored Thomas Parr, the time for the Magic World History has approached. That aside, I'm most delighted to introduce the newest staff member: Marlene Mckinnon."

Clearly, Auntie didn't want to speak. She sat right back down without another word and continued eating, leaving mixed reactions among the students. Some went back to what they were doing, uncaring about the announcement and thought of her as just another lady they'd hired. Others, glanced her way and spoke in hushed tones. I pressed my lips together, tearing my eyes from her and fiddling with my fork. Dole could sense my discomfort. He was smart, really. Though, a bit of a optimist. He must have assumed that whoever the lady was I must have known her.

"Who is she?" he asked carefully, hoping he wouldn't strike some sort of nerve. I made no attempt to answer him just yet as I thought of how I should go about it. I could pretend not to even know her, thinking that my peers would bully her. Then I thought they can't bully a grown up! and decided that I could at least trust Dole.

"My aunt," I shoveled some corn in my mouth to avoid speaking as much as possible.

"Aunt," he repeated, disbelieving at first. He looked between us like he'd see some sort of family resemblance. I swallowed the large amount of food that I'd forced myself to take. "Well that's nic - "

"Not by blood," I clarified, cringing at the bitter taste the words left in my mouth. Aunt Marlene was as good as blood to me, regardless of what Anne thought of her. I knew that my foster mother - my blood aunt - tried to keep it civil throughout the years with Auntie. Trying not to bad-mouth her or the other family members that I had back across the ocean. But I'd heard her speak harshly of them many times when she thought I'd been off playing elsewhere in the manor. She'd even spoken carefully about people that I'd never heard of again. Anne didn't like speaking about her upbringing in London.

Dole thought about this for a bit, possibly wanting to ask how that came to be. He chose wisely to bite back the question I assumed he'd have and turned towards his own plate. Me, on the other hand, spent the remainder of breakfast creating a pros and cons list in my head about my aunt being here. I tried so hard not to look at her, but sometimes my gaze wandered only to find that she'd never look at me.

I stood up before Dole did, wanting to head to class early as usual. He called after me, and despite my hesitation I chose to ignore him as to not interrupt my deep thought. Unfortunately, my first class had to be history. Which meant I had to face the inevitable since teachers left twenty minutes prior to to breakfast ending.

Though I struggled to come close to the door like every day. I was scared of it. The image of Mr. Parr behind that door flashed in my head like a false memory. Regret immediately invaded my conscience and I began to think that I should have let Dole walk me to class like he did all the time. But, Auntie was behind the door. She was the closest. My anxiety peaked and my panic began to rise as the thoughts started flooding in, usually drowned out by the noise of hundreds of other students. Which was why I liked public spaces. I may not like a lot of people but I liked having tons of people around me so I didn't feel alone with my thoughts.

When I'd opened the door, the smell of smoke filled my nose. I recoiled at the strange scent and looked to where Marlene sat on her desk with a cigarette in her mouth. She saw me, muttered "Shit," under he breath, and rushed to put it out and slide the contents off the desk and into the trash can beside it. She coughed and gestured for me to come in.

"Close the door behind you, Miss Potter," she cleared her throat. I raised both my eyebrows and hesitated.

"Miss Potter?" I echoed her in confusion. "I don't understand."

She scoffed like everyone seemed to do nowadays in that way that told me that again, I should already know. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, pointing to the seat nearest to her for me to sit down. Slowly, I did. All while trying force myself to process what seemed to be happening so quickly to me.

"First off, wow," she shook her head. I stayed silent. "This place is much more classy than Hogwarts. Shit was so bright I thought I'd taken a detour to the gates of heaven." She paused at this and hummed. "Which would be quite ironic and unexpected for me. . ." Shaking her head and waving away irrelevant thoughts, she continued. "Second, I thought you'd be a little more happy to see me."

She still didn't answer my question. Literally none of that told me what she was doing here or why she'd pretended not to even recognise me. I had to convince myself to speak.

"I am happy to see you," I said this slowly as to give my brain enough time to catch up. "I just - um - don't know what you're. . .Doing here."

And then she laughed like I'd said something funny.

"Teaching," she'd informed me with a comical 'duh'. I felt as though there were more to it than what she was letting on, and I would be prying her about it later. And 'grown folks business' wouldn't be an acceptable answer this time. "As for why I'm not talking to you in public? I'm doing you a favor, kid. Talk about social suicide."

I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't stupid, I could tell that she was attempting to dodge my questions. It wouldn't work. I'd be sure of it. Narrowing my eyes, I asked her again but was sure to word it differently this time. For example, instead of asking what she was doing here, I changed it to why. Pressing her lips together, she mumbled 'smart-ass' under her breath and tapped her perfectly manicured fingers onto the desk. She must have liked the sound.

"I heard," she eventually said, looking me right in the eyes as she spoke. "Everyone has."

Oh. I didn't look away, but somehow I began to look through her. Not in a literal sense, but like my gaze had suddenly fixated on something else to help drive my thoughts deeper. I took a deep breath and began to feel a lump form in my throat. I'd been too curious on why she was here I'd suddenly felt the fear of her disapproval weigh on me. My mind came up with the most outlandish things that she could be thinking of me. I wondered if she thought I'd done it.

"I didn't do it," I told her, my voice now tired of how many times I'd already had to say it. I didn't think she'd heard me at first the way the silence began to ease its way into the conversation.

"I know, kiddo. You don't ever need to prove yourself to me."

My eyes focused back on her. Auntie's gaze had softened at me and now held that pity that I craved so much of. I wanted to hug her then. Tell her of the recurring nightmares that I had that forced me to re-live that night over and over again. The false memories. The obsessive thoughts that intruded my head that told me I wanted to hurt someone. And the urges that came along with them. She brought a homely comfort that I'd been missing from Anne since I'd been here.

But I didn't. There was only so much that I could say in one day. I settled for what I thought was important.

"I. . . I think I know who did," I hoped she believed me. She was a grown-up, but maybe for once someone would believe me and not think I was playing pretend again. "Or what did it."

I saw it. She was hesitant to believe me. For a moment I wanted to take my words back and forget I'd said anything. Then, she nodded her head to me and looked interested.

"And?" she urged me. Then again, I couldn't even tell her. William - the creature that often polished the statue of our school founder - had refused to tell me. But over the time that I'd have to think about it, I'd put together what I knew. Poppy - the monster under my bed - had told me that it had been a Poltergeist. To which he'd made it pretty clear that they were very different from ghosts.

I just had no clue how they were unalike.

"What do you know about poltergeists?" I'd questioned her.

Auntie's expression changed to that of a surprised one. I felt like I was losing her attention, fast. She looked indifferent suddenly, shook her head as if trying to make some sense out of it, then spoke as slowly as I had earlier.

"Poltergeists," she repeated. "Rory, baby, I'm sorry - all I know is that they are very. . . Introverted creatures. Necromancers couldn't ever get close enough to study them properly."

"Necromancers?" I gave a questionable look at the unfamiliar term.

"Necromancy is a wizarding profession," Auntie clarified. "A necromancer - and despite what muggle fantasy may tell you they certainly do not raise the dead - is what you call witches and wizards who study death. Dissect dead bodies of those with magic blood. Tamper with spells and potions and herbs on corpses. Study ghosts and vampires and the undead. A good paying profession. Sad they get paid more than teachers, mind you, but. . ."

"Why vampires and not poltergeists?" Weren't vampires more dangerous than poltergeists? I didn't see how they had more information on some blood-sucking demons than some dumb ghosts. After all, Poppy was safe and harmless. All he wanted to do was sleep. I told her as much and Auntie only pursed her lips.

"I wouldn't be too sure," she pointed out. "Even the most peaceful of poltergeists are very defensive on their personal information. Meaning they don't trust humans all that much. Nobody knows what they are capable of, Rory." she was sure to be very careful with her words. "You can be friends with one all you want but they will get defensive when you pry."

I took in her words carefully, finger tracing gently over the white wood of the desks.

"So," I shifted uncomfortably. "What's the difference between a ghost and a poltergeist?"

That, she seemed to actually know. Very vaguely, though.

"A ghost is transparent and fully dead," Aunt Marlene paused. "Well, their body is dead but their soul is in limbo." I could feel my blood getting colder and colder the longer this conversation dragged on. Yet, I was fully invested despite how uncomfortable it made me. "A poltergeist is more solid, however. . . Their body is in limbo with their soul. It's why you can throw a shoe at a poltergeist and have them feel it but it would go right through a ghost. Polar opposites, ghosts and poltergeists."

Sitting back in my seat, I'd tried to go over this in my head. If that was all that could be said about the creatures, it was tougher than I'd thought. Perhaps, I thought, going over what Poppy had said to me about a poltergeist following me - maybe its someone that we all know. Someone that has been around me. Someone who was quick to shift the blame on me as well.

"Knox," The name fell from my lips and I saw Auntie's face fall. "He's the only grown-up that thinks I'd done it and - and -"

"Aurora," her tone was a warning one. I knee then that the trust had been lost. She didn't believe that one. "Come on, the headmaster?"

I went to argue instantly but she raised a finger to cut me off, leaving me steaming at having to hold my words in. The conversation dropped when the first bit of students began to file in the classroom. Luckily with Aunt Marlene as our new teacher there would be no homework to keep me from thinking it over. I'd been about to slump in my seat but remembered Anne's words about posture and straightened my back and watched her carefully.

Marlene herself didn't actually seem intimidated, much to my surprise. I'd never thought in a million years that she'd be a teacher. It just wasn't suited for her. Yet her confidence told me otherwise.

"The names Marlene," she told the class, the cool grin coming to her lips again. It was as if the conversation had never happened. I was jealous at how quickly auntie seemed to regain her composure. "Don't call me anything else. I don't do the 'teacher' thing."

What a nice start. I couldn't wait to tell Anne of this and wondered if she already knew. Then, I suddenly came to the realization that Anne was alone in that house after all and grew sullen. The image of her wandering the halls of the manor all by herself with nobody to speak to invaded my mind for the rest of the class. It was selfish, I thought, when I knew that I'd rather this than the thought of hurting someone be the main thing on my mind.

It was a strange relief, even for a second.

"What a surprise. Though, not really."

By the end of the day Auntie was the only thing that people could talk about. Not only was she the first new teacher that Ilvermorny has had in decades but rumor had spread quickly that she'd fought in the second wizarding war back in the United Kingdom. I'd been reluctant to believe it. I knew that she'd lived there at the time but nobody ever told me so. Aunt Marlene never spoke of her life back there. But now, I was curious. Curious about why the war had came to be, what were the sides, who and how people died.

Death was a concept that was hard for me to wrap my head around. So much so that I wanted to go to Auntie's chambers and ask her if what people said were true.

But, it was late. A tale for another time.

I sat on my bed, looking tracing the letters of the book I'd been given a bit ago by Dole. The Enfield Poltergeist. Now that I'd known what to look for, it made it all too real for it to be some dumb coincidence. Dole had given me this particular book. Not only that, but he'd also been the only one to take such a sudden interest in me. My heart clenched at the thought of a possible betrayal and I shrunk further into my bed sheets. I thought it over, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. At first, the images of not only just me violently hurting someone but of Dole going around wearing this facade that fooled everyone.

No, he'd been a student here for five years. The very thought was ridiculous and I scolded myself for even considering it a possibility. Yet, why would he give me this book, out of the thousandths upon thousandths of books I already knew were in that library. It was far too strange.

So, Knox and Dole were on my list.

I opened the book to the first page and began reading with the intentions of only going as far as a few chapters. But before I knew it, the hours had passed and by the time I'd finally looked up - it was dark. And I'd been so focused that my eyes had to adjust away from the pages. The girls were filing in after dinner. Before I could receive any of their glares, I yanked my curtains closed and grabbed my wand. Focus, I told myself. I did this spell only once before and it had been a miracle that I'd gotten it on the first try.

"Lumos," I whispered, giving a wave of my wand. Nothing happened at first. I tried to strain my mind back to what Mrs. Hormens had told us during class. Feel the spells. Want it. Then one day we won't even need to focus that much when we need to use them. I said a little bit more clearly, "Lumos."

The tip of my wand glowed for five seconds, then gave up. I'd just wanted to read. Irritated, I sneered at it and thought of how I'd paid fifty pecunias for this popular branded wand and let the woman keep the change. Screw Beauvais. Blowing a breath, I thought to try again and see what I could accomplish. This time, a little longer. Eight seconds. I'd better stop before I got yelled at for keeping the girls up.

I'd only found out so little about this book. It was a story about a muggle family that'd sworn they'd been attacked. I didn't doubt it, despite what Anne had told me about the muggle imagination and how they tended to exaggerate things. Yet, I thought of whether or not she'd actually been wrong. They didn't know about our world. So, maybe the things that they did see were so bizarre to their minds that they try to explain it the best way possible. But of course, other muggles who had yet to experience such a thing would never believe them.

I didn't believe her at first, but I'd been told that lots of muggles had been locked up in a crazy house for trying to guess on our world. I shivered as I thought about it. It was like reading about this family had suddenly made a lot of things I'd once looked over come forward in my brain.

But there was something that Peggy Hodgson had said in this book that'd shaken me. At will, they could not be seen if they didn't want to. They could hide. I didn't understand how that was, though, when their bodies were mostly solid.

I'd answered my own question then. Mostly.

Did that mean that they could go invisible? I knew they could fly. I'd seen Poppy do it when he'd been chased out of our dorms. So if their soul has passed on and their bodies haven't, how would that be possible? And if so, how could I see them?

My mind was wracking painfully. Before I knew it, my mind was forced to push all anxieties away to make room for sleep. Before I did, there was a shuffling under my bed. The usual one I'd heard every night around the same time. Poppy. I hope he got a good night's sleep. More than I'd been getting.

"I've seen better."

"You went through my things!" I accused Beth Quimbie the next morning. My finger poked her chest roughly and she recoiled at my touch, curling her nose in disgust. She wiped at the spot as if I'd put a booger on her.

"I did?" she'd asked in what I thought was a coy tone. She thought that faking sick would get her out of this. Her hand was on her stomach and she was hunched over like she were ready to show me last night's dinner. I stepped closer in a threatening manner, wand drawn now and pointed at her face. Only few came to defend her. They stood at her sides and had their hands on their hips where their wands were, not taking it out but was prepared of things went there.

"Don't play stupid, Crumbie," I drawled her nickname out darkly. Then I gestured with my other hand towards my open trunk with a few things tossed aside onto the the floor. When I'd woken up, Quimbie had been the only one awake. My yelling had woken the rest. "What did you take?"

She swiped at my wand to get me to lower it, but only knocking it to the floor. My anger got the best of me and I knew I didn't need my wand to get my point across. I reached out with both of my hands and pushed the girl back with all of my strength, resulting in her falling backwards onto the floor while holding her breath. Cowards as they were, the others hadn't even made a move to defend her. I watched as they only ran to where she'd fallen. Then, my face fell as Quimbie turned her head to the side and vomited on the floor. She began to cry. The others ran to go get help and the remainder of the girls either glared at me or stood by with their mouth gaping like fish.

Regret instantly overcame me as I realised she hadn't been faking at all. From there, it seemed like a blur and suddenly I found myself being escorted by a seventh year prexy to the Headmaster's office, despite my protests against being near the man.The prexy girl had a death grip on my arm that started to hurt. So much so that I'd tried to rip my arm from her and struggled the whole way there.

"Let me go!" I tried to be tough, but the sensitive tears sprang in my eyes anyway. The girl ignored me and forced me to sit on the bench under the archway of the headmaster's doorway.

"Aurora?" I knew the voice, but I didn't look at him. The shame that was making the hairs on my arms stand up prevented me from doing so. Yet, he called my name with a voice that held more concern for me than I'd heard in a bit from a grown up.

Count on Alexander Hamilton to try and make everyone's day better for some reason.

The girl turned to me, ignoring Hamilton like he were truly some unresponsive photograph, and pointed to where I sat.

"Don't move from there," she warned bitterly. "The headmaster will be here in a few."

And instead of watching me, she walked off as if she truly had something better to do than give me the time of day. I hung my head, fiddling with my thumbs and oddly thinking back to my precious wand that lay abandoned on the dorm floors. I hoped nobody would break it out of anger just to get back at me. I also hated that this was my main worry. Though, not above the fact that someone had went through my things when I'd been asleep. It made no sense.

"Aurora, you hear me, I know you do," Hamilton insisted. I wondered if he'd always been this determined - even when he was alive. My glare at the floor turned to him and he only raised an eyebrow at me like he'd seen worse. Slowly, I nodded. His expression went soft then and he asked me what'd happened.

But what was I to tell him? That's I accused the first person I'd seen of going through my things because I thought It could be nobody else? After all, if she'd been awake already she would have had to of seen someone go through it or had done it herself. She was a stickler for rules and oddly territorial. She wouldn't have let someone into the dorm if they didn't belong there. Yet, we are a house of clever thieves. I wouldn't put it past her.

So I told him what I could. How the trunk was left carelessly wide open with some of my books, kits, and scales on the floor and even my personal things like colors of lip gloss that I'd taken from Anne before I left. How nothing appeared to be missing but I just felt that I was looking over something that someone took.

"Mm," Hamilton took the time to take in what I'd just told him. "Well, during my time as a student here I can't say that I was proud of what I did. I stole, and was caught many times because I had nothing of my own. But. . .There's a charm on the school. If someone took it and it's not theirs it will go to the lost and found room."

"You're kidding," I echoed dryly. That itself sounded like an effort. To go to an unknown room in the castle to figure out what may or may not have been stolen. He only shook his head and chuckled. "How were you able to steal things if there was a charm, then?"

He laughed.

"I lived in the 1700's, child," he told me with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "They didn't have the charm then. Honestly, I mostly stole from that room because nobody would miss what I took."

The 1700's. I couldn't even imagine. I'd heard that they didn't even have toilets back then. Or showers. It must have really stunk back then. My thoughts on that were cut short when not the headmaster, but Aunt Marlene had come into view. She had a stack of paper in her hands and was mumbling to herself about how dumb kids could possibly be. All that with a fresh cigarette in her hands. She'd glanced at the archway for a moment and had been about to walk past, but did a double take when she registered it was me that sat on the bench.

She stared at me for a moment, blowing smoke from her lips and putting her hands on her hips while balancing the bud between two fingers.

"What did you do this time?" She asked in an accusing tone with narrowed eyes. Honestly with all of that sharp eyeliner she always looked like she was accusing someone of something. I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and holding my head up.

"Someone stole from me," I instantly stated boldly. "So it wasn't me that did anything."

She cursed under her breath at my words. I suspected there was no way she could put her cigarette out but nevertheless she sat next to me and talked with me until the headmaster came into view minutes later, looking as though he'd ran a marathon. He seemed to already know why I was here and gestured me in. Though, held out a hand when Auntie went to follow.

"Excuse you?" she'd said, looking at his hand in slight disgust. "I'm her aunt and -"

"I'm aware," he replied blandly. I'd actually wanted her to come with me as I was nervous. My eyes flickered to her for help and she stared back at me with a mournful look. The headmaster cleared his throat and gestured towards the stack of papers in Auntie's hand. "Don't you have papers to grade?"

Her lips went into a thin line and she shot me an apologetic and stepped back. Then, the silence that followed made my thoughts louder. Which in turn made me uncomfortable. I began to hold my breath when I sat in the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak. He didn't. Wordless intimidation seemed to be his thing. He was a grown up that was much bigger than I was, so it worked. More than I cared to admit. Finally, he broke the ice.

"You assaulted a girl in your dorms," he stated the obvious, taking a piece of paper from a particular stack at the corner of his desk. Ah, a write-up slip. I was rather familiar with those. "Bethany Quimbie, I believe."

"She's a thief," I couldn't hold back the impulsion to defend myself. "She went through my dam - my things."

He pursed his lips, warily eyeing me up and down like he was deciding what to do with me. Nobody could change my mind. I didn't care that Quimbie was being escorted to the healer's ward. And I certainly didn't care that she had supposedly been so sick. I saw what I'd seen. And what I'd seen was my things askew and her being the only one awake. It was the only logical explanation. Then, much to my surprise, he held up a familiar looking object.

The rose gold magnifying glass. In all of its glory. I'd forgotten that I'd even had it. It even still had the note from the Hogwarts Headmaster still attached to it. I at least still remembered what it said. Vaguely. About seeing things that could not otherwise be seen or something. I hadn't known what it meant at first.

However, my mind went to last night and I was quick to connect the dots. I stiffened in my chair.

"I know she did," he confirmed my suspicions. However, my mind was now off to greater things. "Came and reported it to me this morning for some reason."

He put it onto the table and slid it over to me. His voice was suddenly very heavy and his breathing uneven. For the first time, I actually paid attention to it when he began to cough in a way that sounded like someone was hacking at his throat. But I'd reached my hand out for my glass and pocketed it, then waited.

"Detention tomorrow," he told me in between coughs. He used his one hand to take the slip he'd been writing and hand it over to me as well. "With your aunt, I don't mind. I'll alert her on the matter. Now, please, if you will."

He gestured me to go, and he didn't need to tell me twice. I felt like I was finally allowed to let out my held breath when I was free in the hallways. It was bliss. I got off with practically a slap on the wrist because he looked too sick to give me anything else. Now, my mind went back to Quimbie. I couldn't believe that I was actually right for once in my life. It was a new feeling that I didn't think I'd ever get used to.

"How'd it go?" The curious voice of Hamilton asked me from where I had my back turned. I looked at him and managed a small smile. He smiled back at me as he took that as a good sign.

"I got detention and I was right about Crumbie going through my things," I told him. The smile vanished and was replaced with one of confusion on his part. He questioned why I looked so happy then, if I'd actually been justified in my anger and retaliation all along. I simply replied: "Because I was actually right."

There was just something empowering about it. Nevertheless, he changed the subject. He was just happy that I was happy, no matter how odd the reasoning was.

"What did she take?" he asked. I held up the glass, to which he gave a whistle as he admired its beauty. I remembered thinking the same when I'd first seen it myself. I sat on the bench and twisted it around to show him the message that came with it. He twisted his head to read it. The writing was a bit small and the old man didn't have the best handwriting.

"It's from the headmaster back at Hogwarts," I'd told him in a bragging tone. "Albus Dumbledore, his name is."

Hamilton seemed surprised at this, like he knew who I was speaking of. Either that or he knew what this glass actually did that made it so special. I hadn't a clue. I'd looked through it multiple times back at home after my birthday but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, maybe nothing was out of the ordinary there. I thought carefully on it. I had nothing better to do, so I'd put the glass to my eye again.

However, this time was different than at the manor.

Through the glass, I saw people that hadn't been there before I'd looked. In a split second the hall that was once empty was now filled with people floating. Ghosts. There was one upside down on the ceiling reading the papers from centuries ago. Another woman chatting animatedly with a man in an oversized scarf. I became overwhelmed and the glass dropped to my lap. I knew then that nobody was ever alone in this halls no matter how quiet it seemed.

Was it for seeing things that can't be seen or for people who don't want to be seen?

.

.

.

"Okay."