Chapter 4
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They studied the night skies through telescopes every Wednesday at midnight, learning the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they studied Herbology in the greenhouses behind the castle, learning to take care of all the plants and fungi and learnt what their uses were.
Professor Minerva McGonagall didn't like Slytherins, biast towards her own house, but she tolerated Rebekah and praised her skills.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," She said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
She changed her desk into a pig then back again. Rebekah wasn't very impressed by it, but it was not bad. Transfiguration wouldn't be a favourite of hers, she knew, but she would do well enough in it.
After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Only Hermione Granger and Rebekah had made any difference to their matches. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it went well, and gave them a rare smile, though Granger's was warmer.
History of Magic was easy enough, she simply had to remember names, dates and what they did, much like her primary school. It was taught by a ghost, Professor Cuthbert Binns, that liked to start to mumble about irrelevant things that confused the students if they weren't listening properly.
The Charms teacher, Professor Filius Flitwick, was a tiny little Wizard too short and so stood on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and reaching Rebekah's name, he toppled out of sight with a squeal. Rebekah chuckled as he got up with a grunt of pain, hiding it behind the gasps of students.
The DADA teacher gave Rebekah the chills, not that she was scared of him, No. His demeanour wasn't right, his reactions weren't natural, unnerving her only slightly. The overall class was easy. She scribbled her notes using an emerald-cased fountain pen with black ink. Her peers started at her with jealousy, and she simply glared at them to stop. None of the professors told her off, because nowhere did it state that she couldn't use them.
Potions class was in the Dungeons and taught by Professor Severus Snape. Colder than in the main castle, but it was comforting because that was the way Rebekah was used to. After all her dorm was placed in the Dungeons, along with her house's dorms.
Snape started the class by taking the roll call, he paused at her name.
"Ah," He said softly, "Rebekah Potter. Our new celebrity."
"Present," Rebekah said and lifted her hand, just as everyone before her did. Her eyes held his gaze. "And I wouldn't say celebrity, people just know about me."
Snape finished calling the names without a fault and looked up at the class. Black eyes; cold; empty. They mirrored dark tunnels. If they were green, they would mirror Rebekah's.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began, silence ensured. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. That is if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
The class kept silent, unwilling to anger this certain Wizard.
"Potter!" Snape said out of the blue and causes attention to her. "What would I get if I added the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
She remained a calm look, smiled very lightly and said, "A sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death."
"What about finding a bezoar?" The class was intent on listening. "Where would one find it, Miss Potter?
"Stomach of a goat." her smile grew slightly at his subtle nod.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"One and the same. Can be called aconite too. They're the same plant." She had a small grin plastered on.
"Very good, Miss Potter. You have read your books, and then some," He glanced to the whole class. "Why are you not writing this down?"
Rebekah wrote the three facts down quickly, her pen and parchment already out and ready. Every Gryffindor scurried for their quills and parchment. "Fifteen points to Slytherin, for your knowledge."
The Potions lesson continued. Snape placed them into pairs, Rebekah paired with Draco, setting the class a simple potion to cure boils. He had the eyes of a hawk, his black cloak swishing behind him, watching them weigh each ingredient before it was placed into the cauldrons. He walked some more, criticizing everyone but Rebekah and Draco, theirs was by far the best potion.
"Hey," Draco said. "How come you're so good at this?"
"It's like cooking Muggle-style if you don't do it right, it doesn't work right," Rebekah said, taking the cauldron off the fire and putting in the porcupine quills. "There's a recipe and it needs to be followed unless you want to actually change the properties of what you're making. Watch out, Longbottom's just ruined his potion."
The group of five sat on their stools, their feet dared not touch the floor that was covered in the ruined boil cure. Some people, those who weren't paying enough attention, had their shoes burnt open and feet covered in slight boils, forcing several students to go to Madam Pomfrey.
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"What's the answer to number four?" Draco asked, his right handwriting on a parchment piece.
The group of four sat at the great oak desk, cloaked by bookcases and the restricted area. Several thick books laid before them, their hands scribbling notes down or retaining the information to memory. They were forced into the library to study because Snape, and McGonagall, and Flitwick assigned mini exams or handed out long, essay-length homework.
"Ginger reduces nausea and so the consumer feels less sick," Rebekah replied, not looking up. She continued to skim through her written work, comparing it to the textbook in the middle of the table.
"How did you know that?" Draco tapped his pen, a black ballpoint pen that he borrowed from Rebekah.
"I had a pregnant neighbour and she used ginger when she had morning sickness, sometimes helps an upset stomach. What?" There was a slight astonishment in the air. "I was brought up as a muggle, never had fancy potions to heal us."
"What about a headache?" Blaise said, tapping his own pen against the wooden table. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet Library.
"Painkillers, a muggle medicine. And if you two don't stop that tapping," She stopped writing, then pointed to the textbook. "You'll also need painkillers for the bruise on your heads I caused with this book!"
"Sorry." Blaise and Draco replied in unison. Their smiles were sheepish with mirth.
"Hey," Pansy said from the side. She only just arrived to meet them. "Snape wants all the First year Slytherins in the common room in ten minutes."
"Why?" Daphne asked, stopping her hand and lifted her head
"Any reason, do you know?" Rebekah continued writing. Three more lines and she would be done.
"Don't know." Pansy shrugged. "He just asked me to get you four before it starts."
"Come on, before it starts and he gets annoyed," Draco shuddered slightly. "It isn't pleasant."
"I second that. Let's get going." Blaise nodded to the faraway door.
Madam Pince, the Lady of the Library, sat with her desk facing all the bookshelves and desks. A black, pointed hat adorned her thin face and dark hair. Her expression held great degrees of annoyance, especially when one Hufflepuff student dropped a book and caused a page to crumpled. She rose from her desk, much like a starved vulture with her eyes glaring at the offending Hufflepuff. They scurried out of the Library as fast as their feet could handle.
The five laughed to themselves, Rebekah, Blaise and Daphne held their books and placed them away. All without inflicting the wrath of the Librarian, her peering eyes watched their movements as each book levitated away.
"Oh, Madam Pince?" Rebekah stopped before her desk, allowing her friends to walk further along.
"Yes?" Madam Pince replied in her equally thin but commanding voice. "What is it?"
"The thing is, there's a group of older years doing some work, being loud and annoying," Rebekah smiled lightly. "I thought I heard the crinkle of food wrappers or perhaps paper, also saw them bringing in chocolate frogs. I thought it would be better to be safe than sorry, so I told you."
"Why…" Madam Pince's face twisted violently, hearing the crackle of the food wrappers, then a soft and thanking nod came upon her. "Thank you, Miss Potter, for telling me. You are right. It is better to be safe than sorry. Have a good evening."
"You too, Madam."
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The Slytherin common room was as cold as ever; their breaths turned to mist as they walked. It was slowly getting closer and closer to winter, and temperatures were dropping rapidly. As their Head of House appeared, he scorched the flames of the fire even further, warming their shivering forms. Sat on the soft leather sofa, there were four First-year students on each. Rebekah and Draco took the green leather, high-back wing chairs.
"Slytherins, we are the proud, the ambitious and the cunning," Snape began, his back turned to the roaring fire and cast his shadow, the head moved between the high-back chairs. "We adapt to our circumstances. These traits are what has allowed us into this House, these traits may lead us to our downfalls or, perhaps, our victories."
"I've been at this school for the last five years, in this House since my first night here." Gemma Farley tucked back a strand of pale brown hair. " As a House, we've been ridiculed, rejected and tormented by the older years of the other Houses. But we've always prevailed way above them in all respects."
"As a House," Fabius Crumb smirked lightly behind Farley. "We've grown stronger with the people around us. And that is how it should be. There's no use for lazy slobs, losing us points unneededly."
"A rule is only broken if one is caught," Farley said. "Meaning, don't get caught and be careful. Bluff, white lies but never outright lie to a teacher."
"Students," Snape began, his cloak bellowed at the arms as he crossed them. "The night is tiring on, and our introduction to our splendid House is over. You are free to stay in the common room but it is past curfew."
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Next Thursday, First Year Slytherins had flying lessons. They were all happy until they saw they shared those lessons with Gryffindors. At three-thirty.
The House of Snakes, being prompt as usual, were there first and waited for the lions to appear. It took them an extra five minutes to arrive and settle themselves, making Rebekah pursed her lips an inch. Twenty brooms sat by their feet, unsightly like they could crumble.
"What are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." Madam Hooch, with her yellow eyes of a hawk, barked. They did so. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"
Rebekah was hesitant at first, these brooms didn't look safe but did so nonetheless. Her broom was one of the few that actually flew to her hand, Granger's was rolling on the grass and Longbottom's hadn't even shifted.
Madam Hooch allowed them to mount their broom, only after they were in their rider's hands. Rebekah found it quite easy and pleasant, much like riding a bike from her childhood. Her broom stayed still, she didn't slip off the end like some had.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three, two-" Madam Hooch blew the whistle and some rose up on their brooms. Rebekah, Draco and all the Slytherin boys beside Crabbe and Goyle, and four Gryffindor students.
Though Rebekah's broom wobbled and twisted this way and that, she loosely held on and twisted her own body to rebalance again. It shoved itself to the left and Rebekah shoved it back into place. It was like riding a bike, learn it once and you don't forget.
Longbottom's broom served to the left also, it jolted his body upwards and he came down hard. How pleasant was the screams of pain in the afternoon? The idiot broke his wrist, twisting it into an unnatural angle and turned it bright purple-red from blood and bruising.
"Come on, boy, up you get." Madam Hooch whispered to the injured git. "Hospital Wing for you, boy. You leave the brooms where they are, else you be out of Hogwarts before you say 'Quidditch."
Everyone came off their brooms. As soon as the Professor and the injured student left earshot, great burbles of laughter came from the Slytherins. Rebekah turned light pink in the face and the laughter hurt their stomachs.
"Stop laughing, he's injured." Parvati Patil snapped. "It isn't funny!"
"Sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy snorted lightly, as only a Pureblood could. "Never thought you'd like little crybabies, Parvati."
"Hey!" Draco said, snatching a small and shiny orb from the ground. "It's the stupid thing Longbottom's Nan sent him."
"Oi, that ain't yours, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted and everyone turned quiet to listen.
"Draco!" Rebekah called through her cupped hands. "Leave it in a tree, right at the top."
"Give it here," Weasley said and stuck his hand out. "I said it ain't yours."
Draco leapt onto his broomstick, hovering with the top branches of an oak he called, "Get it then, Weasel."
Rebekah slid onto her broom, hovering a few metres away from Draco. "Oi, pass it here. Let's play a game of catch!"
"No!" Granger yelled from the ground. "You'll get us all into trouble."
Weasley, red-haired and faced, came onto his broom and wobbled his way up. "Give it here, you good-for-nothing!"
Draco tossed the orb toward Rebekah, she caught it easily in one hand. Weasley turned bloodier than his robes, jolting his broom towards Rebekah. It was all in good fun for Rebekah and Draco until the duo caught sight of a fuming McGonagall and Snape make their way quickly.
An idea, a cheeky, little, naughty idea came to Rebekah. She pulled her scarf from her robe and laced it in Weasley's pocket, hanging it out slightly. Her eyes teared up slightly as she tilted her broom to the group, coming off easily.
"Professors!" Rebekah called, tears welling even more. "Weasley stole my scarf! He refused to give it back and decided to start flying."
"Yeah, he was taunting her with it," Draco caught her lie quickly. "Since Rebekah is from the Muggle World, he thought it would be a good idea to steal it and fly up on his broom, thinking she can't fly. It's not nice."
"HEY!" Weasley tried to speak and hushed from Snape's glare.
"Yeah, he called me a good-for-nothing," Rebekah held a sorrowful look in her eyes, causing McGonagall's to soften at her and harden at Weasley.
"That isn't true!" Weasley spat, pointing a finger at Draco. "Malfoy took Neville's Remembrall and wouldn't give it back."
"And where is the Remembrall now, Mr Weasley?" Snape held a seething look.
Weasley was flustered. "Malfoy has it!"
"No, I don't," Draco gestured towards the group of Gryffindors. "It's over there, where Longbottom dropped it."
The group began to look. Patil, with a shaking hand, held up the Remembrall. Snape looked, as usual, stern and uncaring, and McGonagall's face twisted sourly.
"Mr Weasley!" She voiced her displeasure, waving one finger at him. "You will be given detention for a month with Mr Filch every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, after supper."
"And I suggest, Mr Weasley, that you return Miss Potter's scarf before you dig yourself into a bigger hole."
"Scarf? What scarf?"
"The one in your robe pocket, Mr Weasley," McGonagall. "Since you tried to lie, I will have to report it to the Headmaster."
"I will leave Mr Weasley in your capable hands, Professor." He said. "Miss Potter, come with me."
"All right, Professor Snape," McGonagall. "Everyone to their common rooms. Mr Weasley, you are with me. Come along."
Rebekah followed Snape, her strides were kept fast and short to keep up. They went up the front steps and up the marble staircase inside. Took a left, down a corridor and then a right. After several minutes, Rebekah knew she wasn't being escorted to the Headmaster's office.
"Well done, Miss Potter," Snape said, slowing his pace and allowing her to catch up. "Good use of instincts, allowing Weasley to take the blame. Though, you will have to be careful with him. His family… Is not the most pleasant."
"I saw them on platform Nine and Three-Quarters," Disgusting, with their ill-fitting clothes and appearance. "It wasn't the most pleasant experience. Where are we heading? I know you aren't taking me to Dumbledore."
"One of our House's Chasers has been excused from Quidditch, and I believe we have a replacement in you," He glanced down to her, a small smirk on his lips. "We are heading to Professor Binns, he is currently teaching Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Mr Flint, our Quidditch Captain, is there."
"Oh, that's fine with me," She held a small, satisfied smile. "Will Quidditch practice interfere with my lesson time?"
"It won't. Practise is in the evenings or during free time. I expect you to stay top of your class, as you are now if you do begin as Chaser."
She snorted lightly. "Of course, it's just a physical sport. I will always hold my education over everything unless the thing is my chosen career path. Which Quidditch is not."
"Ah, here we are," Snape stopped outside Binns' classroom. "Wait outside for a moment, Miss Potter, I will not be long."
He went into the classroom, startling the students and making Binns stop muttering about irrelevance over The Goblin Wars. True to his word, Snape went in and out swiftly, a tall student paraded out the class.
Marcus Flint was, as before stated, a tall male with muscles only Quidditch could cause. Large front teeth hung over the bottom lip slightly, giving the appearance of a rabid squirrel. Coarse black hair obscured his view only a little, his shifty eyes glanced over Rebekah, sizing her up.
She looked up, through thick black lashes and into his grey eyes. She held no fear for this male, only indifference and intrigue since he was capable enough to be Slytherin Captain. Snape believed this Flint was good enough to represent the House of Snakes.
"Who's this?" He grumbled, jutting his thumb towards her. The action made her frown.
"Your new Chaser, Flint," Snape stated. "Pure skill on a broom. Like a natural."
"You sure, Professor?" He asked. "Ain't she a bit small?"
Rebekah crossed her arms against her chest, pursing her lips in annoyance. They spoke as if she was not there.
"I am positive, I saw her on her broom. Swift and precise," His next comment made Flint grin, showing his large, uneven teeth. "Miss Potter was playing catch with Longbottom's Remembrall, caught and threw it perfectly. She isn't scared of playing dirty."
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Selkies were not beautiful by any means. They were tall, averaging seven or eight feet, with long seal-fish tails and humanoid torso. The scales hid the seal fur, protecting it. Usually one colour, they ranged from soft mints to harsh teals and from harsh teals to the tones of sunrises. Their faces held malice each time they passed her room, malice that wasn't directed at them.
Even as midnight came and rang at the clocks' bells, they were in the waking world. Pale emerald hues cast against the stone walls, flushing the room with the shadows from the waters. The fireplace brewed in refound creation, flames kissing the tones hello and goodbye. Melodies of Tchaikovsky and his piano calmed the trio of girls, as they sipped cups of cocoa on the sofas. Silence dared to lure the girls asleep. Their eyes drifted towards the waters outside. The waves of delicate moss held no intolerance for those who looked for salvation in its depths.
A soft tap at the glass drew their attention.
"Is that…?" Pansy drew out in sleepiness, her cup on the coffee table. The Selkie wasn't any older than them.
"I can't believe it…." Daphne came up to the curved glass, Pansy right behind her.
"Yes, she's one of the merfolk of the lake," Rebekah took Pansy's cup and placed it on a wooden coaster, then took her cup to view the waters. "Mell. She comes to visit every so often, pleasant company. I'll invite her in."
Her hand brushed the glass, the handprint hummed in golden tones and then the glass melted. The small Selkie hesitated to come in, only doing so when Rebekah touched it again. She whizzed in with a bubble of water around her, a vast grin formed on her grey face. The bubble kept to her.
"Hi!" Her voice echoed, the water rippled as she spoke. "It's so nice to meet some friends of Rebekah!"
Her honey eyes glittered with excitement. Each of her sharp, little movement caused her forest green hair to fly this way and that in the water. Mell sat on one of the sofas, Daphne next to her with Rebekah and Pansy on the other.
"Hi, why are you-" Pansy began.
"In a bubble of water?" Pansy nodded. Mell giggled lightly. "It's so you all can hear me! If I were to speak outside of water, all you'd hear is screaming. Plus it's better for my scales if I stayed wet."
"I didn't know that," Daphne said, taking a sip from her cup. "I've learnt something new."
"Anyway, shouldn't you all be in bed? Asleep?" Mell squealed.
"We couldn't sleep," Rebekah said, Daphne and Pansy gave her a look. "Well, I couldn't sleep and we needed bonding time without the boys."
"Hey, do you have any books on Merpeople, or is it Merfolk?"
"Nope. Got it right the first time!" Her tail swished against the stone floor, greyscales caught the light of the dimming fire.
"I think I do, let me check," Rebekah skimmed through titles of her book collection. "No. Vampire, no. No. Dragons, no. No. No. Ah, there it is. Here."
The script, 'Merpeople: How We Came To Be', was bound in seaweed weaved together to form the front, back and spine. The title, embedded with a metallic tool, caught their attention. Each word was written with a flair that only the webbed hands of a skilled Merperson could achieve.
They looked through each and every water adored page of the book, relishing in its knowledge and Mell's insight where the knowledge was wrong.
Merpeople were sentient beasts that lived underwater, found all over the world. Their customs were mysterious and, as they didn't want to be placed in status with Hags and Vampires, they refused the status of Being in favour of Beast, much like the Centaurs.
Time droned on, the fire cooled and ashed. Their yawns became more frequent, they stayed up until the next hour, then Mell decided to head home. The girls yawned their goodbyes and left Rebekah alone in the room. The cups disappeared from their places and the rings of cocoa stains were wiped away.
Rebekah thanked the House-Elf in his efforts to keep the fire alive for the night. Emperor already decided to become enormous and hog most of the bed, she simply shoved him over and laid down. He hugged her or rather draped her form as she nodded away from reality.
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By breakfast, everyone in Slytherin knew that Rebekah was to be a Chaser. They yelled it in the common room, spoke of it in the corridors and whispered it in Great Hall. Their robes shimmered, their heads and spirits raised with pride. Most of the school found it unfair, though one more so than the other two.
The owls flooded into the Great Hall, as usual, catching everyone's attention and reverting it to a long, thin package carried by six screech owls. They soared down, dropping it in front of her, everyone watched. A small letter was dropped on the package, she decided to tear the letter open first.
Open in your dorm, Miss Potter. It contains your Nimbus Two Thousand, I was allowed to purchase it using your vault. It is all in your name. Marcus Flint and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team will meet you on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock tonight. This will be your first training session with them.
Severus Snape.
She smiled, her teeth bared in happiness.
"What does it say?" Pansy asked, finishing her mouthful. "Pass it 'ere. We want to read."
"Nimbus Two Thousand!" Draco said. "My father said I couldn't get it till next term! You are so lucky."
"Hey, you wanna go open it now, Rebekah?" Daphne asked. "I haven't seen what one looks like yet."
"Isn't your dorm ceiling, like, really high?" Blaise wondered and then a huge smile overtook his face. "You could try it out in there!"
"Oh yeah. I could, couldn't I?" Her smile dimmed. "Let's finish eating first. If we're quick, we'll have enough time. What's first?"
"Defense,"
"Perfect, he won't mind if we're a few minutes late."
Ron Weasley found the group of Slytherins sitting at their table, behind him were Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan
They went to leave the hall, wanting to unwrap the broomstick before the first class began. Halfway across the entrance hall, the way downstairs was blocked by Weasley and his two friends, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. The group shoved pass them, but Weasley went to snatch the package.
"Oi, you should have asked us to move," He grabbed the package and turned to Rebekah. "What's this, a present from Mummy and Daddy?"
Mother….
Father….
Mummy was dead. Mummy and Daddy were dead, long gone ...And he, like the rest of the Wizarding World, knew. Rebekah saw crimson as she lunged forward.
"You bastard!" His robes clenched in her fist, she held her wand to his throat, the tip sizzled with heat. Her eyes shimmered with feral rage, almost glowing in the dim morning light. Her anger and teeth were bared
"You very well know that Mummy is dead. So is Daddy, meaning there is no one here to stop me from severely injuring you. But, alas," She clenched his robes, her wand moved to waist just as Professor Flitwick appeared at Draco's elbow. "You are not worth the time in Azkaban."
"Not arguing, students, I hope?" He squeaked.
"Of course not, Professor!" Rebekah grinned brightly and turned around. Her demeanour changed. Her eyes shone with mirth, though it was hiding her corrupt thoughts. "My friends and I were just heading back to our common room."
"Professor, Potter has a broom!" Finigan pointed to the exposed bit of the package. "First years ain't allowed brooms."
"Ah, don't worry," He said. "Professor Snape has informed all the staff members of your expectation to the rule, Miss Potter. It won't be confiscated unlawfully."
"Oh, that's good to hear," She batted her eyelashes. "Well, we were on our way to open it."
"Oh, go on but don't be late for your first lesson."
"Of course not." Daphne and Pansy said. The group of five raced down the stairs, Hogwarts decided to make it easy for them.
Sleek design, with its name written in gold on the mahogany handle, the Nimbus Two Thousand had a long tail of compact, straight twigs. It flew well, unlike the school's brooms. After each of them had a go on it, and with Pansy almost falling off it and swearing she'd never go on one again. They headed off to DADA and the Transfiguration.
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In Transfiguration, McGonagall made them practise turning mice into snuffboxes. It took a few tries but Rebekah and Granger had perfected it easily. They both helped their housemates. But when lesson ended and it was time for a break, Rebekah shooed her friends off and stayed back to speak with the Professor.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked, waving her wand to remove the mice from her classroom.
"I was wondering what that full-body transfiguration you do is, you know, the one that allows you to turn into a cat?"
"Oh that, Miss Potter, that isn't merely Transfiguration," She moved to her desk, shifting into her cat form, licking her paw and then jumped off, shifting back. "This is called an Animagus form. An Animagus is someone who can transform into an animal at will."
"How does one learn to be an Animagus?" Rebekah asked. "I wouldn't think it would be easy. After all, transfiguration isn't an easy subject itself."
"Are you interested in becoming an Animagus, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked. "Or are you simply curious?"
"A bit of both actually," Rebekah hummed for a slight second. "In fact, I hope to become an Animagus, but perhaps not right now. I'm still not used to Hogwarts. Couldn't Animaguses, or is it Animagi?"
"Animagi,"
"All right. Couldn't Animagi commit crimes and not get caught?"
"Good question. They wouldn't be able to get away with it," McGonagall noted Rebekah's thoughts on the matter. "There is a registry called the Animagus Registry, once someone acquires the skill, they have to register their form with the Ministry."
"This subject is quite interesting," Rebekah said. "Are there any books that have more information on this matter, Professor? I wish to understand it better before I even attempt to become an Animagus."
"There aren't sadly," Rebekah frowned, McGonagall smiled as she continued. "I can't tell you, and I can't tell you that there is a book called 'Animagi And Their Transformations' in the Restricted Area. Also, I can't tell you that Filch is not there on Friday between eleven and one. I can't tell you anything."
"Ah, I understand that you can't tell me anything, Professor," Rebekah smiled. "I understand, you are a teacher and that you have morals. Thank you for being so informing, Professor."
Rebekah left the classroom quickly. Minerva McGonagall heavily sighed, rubbing her glasses clean. "She is so much like them. They'd be so proud…"
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Quidditch training with Marcus Flint was not fun, she was ready to slap his teeth straight. The whole team was in the air: Flint was a Chaser along with Adrian Pucey. Miles Bletchley was Keeper and Terence Higgs was Seeker. Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick were the burly Slytherins that were the Beaters.
Rebekah was, by far, the smallest there, and was the only girl on the team. The others scoffed and tutted as she came on the field, they silenced as their training began.
Flint and Pucey tried to keep the Quaffle away from her, acting as the opposite team. She managed to catch it nine out of ten times. She flew for the last one, almost fall off her broom as she caught it within a hair's breadth.
"How'd you catch that last one, Potter?" Bletchley asked. "You were miles away from it."
"More like five metres, Bletchley," Rebekah said, balancing her weight so she didn't have to hold the broom. "When you live with magic-hating Muggles that have an entitled son as long as I have, you learn to be quick with your movements."
"You live with Magic-hating Muggles, that ain't right is it?" Higgs asked. "They ain't abusive, are they?"
"God no, they're terrified of magic, sure but they'd never become abusive, they're scared I'd lash out again." Rebekah chuckled. "When I was little, I blew up a vase because they tried to punish me for what my cousin did. Learnt quickly that if they behaved, I would. I've got everything I want with them, doesn't matter that they're Muggles or not."
"Muggles are disgusting though,"
"Who do you think came first, Muggles or Wizards?" Rebekah asked them. "Muggles of course. To make a Wizard it takes two recessive Magic genes that the Muggles have inherited."
"What?"
"You didn't go to a proper school, did you? The Wizarding World really doesn't adapt, does it?" Rebekah sighed. "I learnt in school that everyone has genes. So I've got green eyes, yeah?"
"Yeah,"
"My Mother has bright green eyes, and my Father has hazel eyes, why do I have green eyes?"
"Because both your parents had green eyes,"
"Yes, but my Mother's parents had brown eyes. Brown is the dominant gene, so it is more common. Blue and green are recessive, meaning they need to be in pairs to occur. My grandparents both had a recessive green gene, so they made someone with green eyes. If two Muggles had an ancestor that was a Witch or Wizard, or even a Squib, they would produce a child with magic."
These Wizards weren't bright at times, at least they were good at Quidditch. Rebekah needed a nice, long, extremely hot bath to relax in. She'd have Quaffle-sized bruises in the morning.
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Mell joined Rebekah for a long soak in the tub, they simply talked. The tub was enormous, with four sets of facets and two plugs. It stayed a feverish 39 C(102.2 F), steam came off in wisps of white. The bubbles didn't lose their liveliness, they covered the tub entirely as the girls laid in it.
"This is so much better than the lake!" Mell relished in the much warmer water. "It's so warm! It's so nice!"
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"
"Yep!"
"So, how's the colony doing? Well, I hope."
"Yea, the lake is warmer than most of the bodies of water, so we're getting a lot of fish," "I'll have to save you some!"
"No, but thank you. I don't like fish."
"How!?"
"It's just disgusting to me, I can't eat it at all. Makes me gag really badly."
"Oh, all right…. More for me!"
A loud thunder-like sound echoed through her dorm.
"What was that?"
"I dunno!"
"You're useless,"
"Yep, I'm not investigating. It's too nice in here."
"I'll go," Rebekah climbed out of the deep tub, the bubbles clung to her body and turned into a fluffy white robe. "Handy."
The thunder-like sound echoed again. Rebekah walked into her room, she drifted over everything. Her bed was in place and neat, as was her bookcases, the fireplace, the tables and coffee table and sofas. A strange form swam outside the clear glass, around seven feet tall with long hair and vivid yellow eyes, a trident in one hand. She knocked on the glass once.
Rebekah waved to the Selkie, she nodded stiffly and pointed her trident towards the bathroom. "You want me to get Mell for you?" She nodded. "Okay, I'll be back with her in a second. Please wait,"
Mell sulked in the tub, the top of her water bubble flared with her wild hair. "I don't wanna leave. Too nice."
"Well, I'm not dealing with your Mother. So, as my Aunt Petunia says, get your bum in gear and get moving,"
"Your Aunt Petunia is a slave-driver,"
"Don't I know it, now get," Rebekah unplugged the water and let it disappear. "You will not be the reason for your Mother being displeased with me. I'm not havin' it."
"Okay, all right. I'm moving." She got out of the tub and floated to the glass. "But Mum!"
She poked the glass gently, giving Mell a stern look.
"All right, I'm coming," Mell said as Rebekah touched the glass and it melted away.
"Here you go, Merchieftainess Murcus. Have a safe trip back and have a plentiful hunt this season," Rebekah lowered her head in a small bow, The Merchieftainess did the same, then pointed her trident towards the colony. The duo of mother and daughter swam away quickly, several guards following after them.
"Meow,"
"Shut it,"
"Meow!"
"I told you to eat during dinner but no, you weren't hungry," She sighed, picking Emperor up in his normal cat form. "I can't blame you."
"Meow." She chuckled, walking to her wardrobe and picked a pair of simple tank top and shorts.
"Are you coming with me to the Hospital Ward?"
"Meow,"
"Come on, then. These bruises kill." He turned large and followed after, coming up to her waist. He was the size of a small lion, he behaved similarly to them.
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