Aralynn was surprised to find that Hermione had already gone from the dormitory by the time she woke. There was no questioning if she was still furious about that nasty business with the flying Ford Anglia. Whether she would give any of them the opportunity to explain what had happened, however, remained to be seen. The auburn-haired girl pulled herself up and went to the vanity along the wall nearest to her bed. She gazed down at the bottles of makeup she had set out, then up at her reflection in the mirror. She pushed her straight bangs back from her forehead with her hand, staring at the bolt-shaped scar above her right eyebrow. For years, she had worked so diligently to hide the mark from sight. Her first year at Hogwarts only made her diligence that much stronger. Seeing it, for the first time, on Harry's forehead had made her stomach twist in unpleasant ways, and she couldn't bear the thought of him knowing that she had one of her own. Presently, though, it hardly mattered. Harry now knew it was there. Hell, the whole school knew it was there. Still, Aralynn wrestled with the urge to continue concealing it. Not only had it become a habitual practice; it was a great, big target singling her out as a Potter. That, of which, came with reactions and consequences she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with.
Aralynn took one of the bottles into her hand and held it there. She didn't open it, didn't apply it—she didn't even look at it. She just held it, feeling the squared glass pressing indentations into her palm. She caught sight of something moving in the mirror glass, and when she investigated it, she saw Fay Dunbar shoving her arms through her black cloak. Aralynn set the concealer back down on the vanity table and turned. "Fay," she called. The girl stiffened at the sound of her own name—or rather, stiffened at the sound of Aralynn calling her name. Fay looked like she'd rather do anything else besides talk to her, but turned her attention, regardless.
"It's been a while," Aralynn said, forcing a small smile over her lips. "It's great to see you again. How was your holiday?"
"Fine," answered Fay curtly.
Aralynn waited for her to say anything else, but when she didn't, awkward tension began to grow. "Do anything fun?"
"Yes."
There was another long hesitation. "Ah… Well, that's great, I'm glad to—"
Fay stepped forward, cutting her off. Her lips were pressed firmly together before they opened again. "Is it true?" she asked irately. "People are saying that you, Ron, and Harry crashed a flying Muggle car into the Whomping Willow and tore up the grounds."
Aralynn paused. "Well… Yeah, that's true."
Her faced contorted angrily. "You've cost Gryffindor one-hundred-and-fifty points, you know," she lectured. "The term has only just started, and we have negative points."
The stare Fay was piercing Aralynn with made her feel like her skin was beginning to smolder and was bound to catch fire at any moment. "It's… complicated, but Harry is a great Quidditch player. I'm sure we can earn the points back quickly—"
"—You and your friends have done nothing but hurt Gryffindor from the moment you stepped foot in this castle last year. Professor Dumbledore's generosity is the only thing that won us the House Cup."
Aralynn was furious. Fay, conveniently, seemed to be forgetting that the four of them had nearly died trying to save both the school and wizarding world in one fell swoop. "Hang on—"
"Do you think you're allowed to do whatever you want?" Fay demanded. "Do you think that scar frees you of consequences? That being The Girl Who Lived means you're better than everyone else, and nothing can touch you?"
Aralynn's fury devolved into shock. "What? No!"
"You would be smart to keep your head down this year," said Fay. "The Gryffindors don't need you and your brother ruining everything again!"
She had opened her mouth to respond, but Fay was done with the conversation. She had turned sharply on her heel, golden hair whipping with the motion, and stomped down to the Common Room. Aralynn could only stand there, stupefied, by their encounter. She had been worried about how people might react to her after being revealed to be a Potter, and now she was completely dreading having to see or talk to anyone else. If Fay Dunbar, whom Aralynn had once considered a friend, could treat her that way, she shuddered to think how people like Draco Malfoy would.
Aralynn, still perplexed, began changing into her school uniform. Before leaving the dormitory, she stared at her pink scar in the vanity mirror again. She followed its shape with her eyes several times before swatting her hand and knocking the makeup bottles askew. She plucked her satchel from the open trunk at the foot of her bed and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast.
The long house tables in the Great Hall were littered with students. Atop silver platters were careens of porridge, mounds of eggs and bacon, stacks of toast, and bowlfuls of kippers and sausages. The bewitched ceiling, dull and gray and cloudy, almost felt like a taunting physical representation of how Aralynn felt. Surreptitious whispers followed her all the way to Ron and Harry. She did her best to ignore them as she forced herself between the boys. They were looking about as awful as she was feeling.
"Good morning, Hermione," Aralynn said, dropping her satchel on the floor between her feet.
"Morning," Hermione responded, though her voice was stiff. It seemed that Ron and Harry hadn't had the chance to tell her about the incident at King's Cross Station, which directly attributed to them bringing the car to school in the first place.
"You look upset," said Ron.
Aralynn breathed sharply. "Yeah, well, I was accosted by Fay Dunbar in our dormitory earlier." She grabbed a piece of toast from the platter and aggressively bit a piece off. "Guess I'm still reeling from the conversation."
"Accosted?" Harry questioned. Hermione, despite her anger, was peeking over her Voyages with Vampires textbook curiously.
"Yes," Aralynn replied through a mouthful of toast. "I asked her how her holiday was, and she proceeded to rip into me about costing Hogwarts one-hundred-and-fifty points."
Harry swallowed uncomfortably. "Well, we did…"
Across the table, Hermione blew her nose.
"I know that," Aralynn hissed. "Then she said that the four of us have done nothing but screw Gryffindor over as soon as we arrived last year, and that Dumbledore was the only reason we won the House Cup at all."
Ron, mouth agape, scoffed. "Oh, yeah, just by stopping You-Know-Who from getting the Philosopher's Stone and killing us all." He threw his hands up. "No big deal!"
Even Hermione was looking baffled.
Aralynn held a hand up. "Oh, but the real kicker was when she accused me of thinking that I'm superior to everyone else and unaffected by the rules just because I'm The Girl Who Lived. What a load of shi—"
"—I can't believe her," came Hermione's bewildered voice. "That's possibly one of the rudest things someone could say to another person."
Aralynn snorted. "No need to tell me. I was the one subjected to it."
Harry was frowning. "I'm sorry, Ara."
She shrugged. "Not really your fault, is it?"
"Well, no, but…"
"Then you have nothing to apologize for, Harry."
Just then, the Weasley family owl, Errol, came blundering into the Great Hall. They hadn't noticed him, or how clumsily he was flying, until he crashed right into the jug of milk Hermione had been using to prop Voyages with Vampires up. The milk splashed, spraying everyone nearby. Aralynn lifted her sopping tie with a grimace. "That's disgusting," she muttered.
Hermione, aghast, was trying to wring milk from her bushy hair. "Ron!" she chastised. "That owl of yours is a hazard."
Ron glowered at her. "He's old, Hermione." He leaned over and tugged Errol out of the jug by his feet. As soon as he took the scarlet envelope from the owl's beak, he shook himself out (yet again stippling them with milk) and went soaring from the Great Hall as though he was eager to escape. Ron dropped the envelope like it had been burning his hand. "Oh no."
Aralynn leered at the letter. She and Ron looked at each other, both pale-faced and nauseated.
Harry pointed at it. "Um…" He paused when it began smoking at the seams. "What… what is that?"
Neville Longbottom came curiously rushing over. "Blimey!" he exclaimed. "It's a Howler! You know, my gran sent me one once. It was…" he froze, stiffened, and shuddered as he thought back. "Well, it was horrible."
Harry looked from Neville to Ron and Aralynn. "What's a Howler?"
Ron was looking terrified of the letter, as though it was going to explode. Which wasn't a farfetched notion considering, in addition to the smoke, it had begun to wobble and whistle. He was so afraid that he hadn't even heard Harry's question. The last thing he wanted to do was open it, especially not in the Great Hall, where all the nosy students had begun staring over at the Gryffindor table.
"You'd better open it," Neville advised. "It'll be worse if you don't. Might as well just… get it over with."
Ron, however, was frozen.
"Ron?" Aralynn called out weakly. She reached out to shake him. "Ron, o-open it. Just open it."
"I don't want to," said Ron, faintly, his voice unnaturally high.
"Just…" Aralynn stopped herself and reached across him to ease the letter open.
It shot upright, hovering before Ron, the severed seam open like a gaping mouth. "RONALD WEASLEY!" came the thunderous, piercing, furious voice of Molly Weasley. It echoed off the walls. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED! YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN HARRY AND ARALYNN KILLED! YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"
The letter, much to Aralynn's dismay, then turned towards her. "AND YOU! I EXPECTED BETTER OF YOU, ARALYNN POTTER! I AM INCREDIBLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU FOR PARTICIATING IN SUCH AN IDIOTIC AND DANGEROUS IDEA! DON'T THINK YOU'RE SAFE, EITHER! ANOTHER TOE, AND YOU'RE BOTH COMING HOME! THINK ABOUT NINE MONTHS' WORTH OF DE-GNOMING BEFORE YOU EVEN DARE!"
Aralynn and Ron both looked like they were going to be sick. The letter redirected down the table to Ginny, who had gone as red as the envelop was. When it continued, Molly's voice was soft and doting. "Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud." The letter then ripped itself apart, its pieces drifting onto the tabletop like snow.
A deafening silence had befallen the Great Hall, but it was quickly broken by scattered laughs. Hermione, at the very least, looked as though the Howler had been punishment enough and became decidedly more friendly. The redness in Ron's ears had yet to fade and likely wouldn't for the rest of the day. Aralynn caught Fay Dunbar's eye, who was looking almost sorry for what she had said after hearing the Howler.
Once breakfast had ended, and they received their course schedules; Harry, Ron, Aralynn, and Hermione swept off to the greenhouses for their Herbology lesson. It seemed that Aralynn's senses were heightened, as she could still hear murmurs coming from most everyone she passed. Last year, there hadn't been enough time for her schoolmates to gossip and talk about her amongst themselves. While she didn't know whether her heritage had been a popular topic of discussion during summer, it certainly was now. She tried to appear oblivious. She tried to pretend she hadn't caught hushed tones of, "Potter, as it turns out," and "Never knew, apparently," and "Dunno if I believe it…" Aralynn failed to understand the interest. Her name had changed, not her person, but everyone seemed to believe the two were mutually exclusive. She didn't know how, or if, she could convince them that she was the same Aralynn as she ever was.
Harry, too, seemed to notice the whispers. He had grabbed Aralynn's attention and smiled encouragingly at her. It was unclear whether Hermione and Ron caught them, but if they had, they were pretending to be as dense as Aralynn was. "I'm sure it'll die down quickly," Harry offered comfortingly. "They've got to get bored eventually."
"Yeah?" Aralynn said halfheartedly. "Did they ever get bored of you?"
Harry hesitated. "Er… well…"
"I thought not," she said with a sigh.
"Just ignore them," said Hermione quietly. Apparently, she, too, had perfect hearing. "You don't have anything to prove."
"Kind of feels like I do," Aralynn muttered with a frown.
"Well, you don't," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "They'll just have to get over themselves."
Aralynn grinned weakly at her. "Thanks, 'Mione."
As they approached the greenhouses, they saw Professor Sprout walking swiftly across the lawn with Professor Lockhart on her heels like a dog. He was talking animatedly to her, pearly teeth glinting in the sunlight, but the look on her face was strewn with annoyance and frustration. She was fiddling with the bandages covering her arms, and looking past her, the Whomping Willow came into view. Some of its branches had been wrapped in slings, and Aralynn wished she could disappear on the spot. They hadn't realized just how much damage they had done to the tree until they saw it in broad daylight. The Ford Anglia was a heavy hitter. Which, of course, only made her feel all the worse.
"We'll be in greenhouse three this morning," Professor Sprout blurted out, slipping behind the door, and away from Professor Lockhart, as quickly as she possibly could. Lockhart only then seemed to notice that there was a flood of students waiting outside.
"Oh, hello!" he greeted boisterously. He was clad in ornate, rose-colored robes. "Didn't see you all there. Got caught up helping Professor Sprout understand how to properly care for the Whomping Willow. She was doing it all wrong, you see. Thankfully I was here! Dealt with plenty of tempestuous trees in my time. Really quite easy once you get the hang of it."
Ron was visibly disgusted while he listened to Lockhart. There was only so much he could take before he shuffled into the greenhouse with the rest of the retreating students. Aralynn was preparing to grab Hermione, who was stuck in a swooning stupor, and drag her inside with them, when Lockhart grabbed both her and Harry by the elbows and tugged them back.
"We have to get to class," Aralynn said, trying to turn again, only for Lockhart to reposition himself so that he was blocking the door.
"We won't be but a moment!" Lockhart called inside to Professor Sprout, who was staring sternly at the back of his head. "Ah, young Potters… Young, young Potters." He was shaking his head while Harry and Aralynn stood, puzzled. "I understand, you see. I understand. It's quite a dazzling world to enter, I know, but there's a time and place for everything, even silly little attention-seeking stunts."
Aralynn stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
Harry gestured to Aralynn. "We don't understa—"
"I can understand how making the front page of the Daily Prophet that day in Flourish and Blotts might've really excited you, but that doesn't mean you have to act so drastically for a little bit of coverage—"
Harry was stammering. "Oh, Professor, no, we—"
Lockhart was still going. "—There are simpler things to start with, my dear Potters. Taking that enchanted Muggle car was, no doubt, quite the show, but we've got to be mindful of our choices, eh? Fame really is a dangerous business, you see, and it can fester out as quickly as it ignites. If you continue pursuing these flashy things, you'll burn through your notoriety quite quickly…"
"Professor Sprout is waiting for us," Aralynn said, trying to ease away, but Lockhart nearly pressed himself back against the door.
"I know it's thrilling," Lockhart continued. "Really gets the blood pumping, but if you hope to ever win Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have, you'll have to take strides, not leaps." He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. "My fault, though, I know. As soon as I heard, I just…" he sighed theatrically. "Well, I really could've kicked myself. First, all that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and then the bookstore, well…" He shook his head. "Again, I understand. Of course, I do. Got a little taste for it, and then you couldn't resist. No one can blame you!"
Harry and Aralynn were giving Lockhart dead, glazed-over-eyes kind of stares. He didn't even seem to notice. "Keep it small, you know? Gradual. You'll be well on your way. Ah, I've got it! We can devise a plan, so to speak. A timeline to follow for your budding fame! So lucky you are to have me here to guide you both." With his white teeth agleam in the sunlight, he clicked his mouth at them, shot them a pair of finger guns, and swaggered away.
Aralynn just stood there, watching his cloak billowing behind him. She had no idea what to do with herself. She was positive that she had never met someone so conceited and self-assured in her entire life. Not even Draco Malfoy could hold a candle to Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry looked as nonplussed as she was. Wordlessly, she tugged the sleeve of his cloak, and staggered numbly inside of the greenhouse with him. One look at the clock told them that they had been listening to Lockhart's drivel for half-an-hour. Professor Sprout was still looking annoyed, but eager to start.
As the stout woman began to move around the room, Hermione looked past Ron, and at Aralynn. "How was it?" she whispered. "Oh, I'm so jealous. Did he have interesting things to say? What did you talk about? Lockhart is amazing. Have you readWanderings with Werewolves? The things he did for that village… just incredible."
Aralynn shot Hermione a glare. "I think there's a bit of drool on your chin, there, 'Mione."
Hermione flushed and went decidedly quiet.
Professor Sprout was setting out a crate of fuzzy earmuffs. "Now that we can begin… We'll be repotting Mandrakes. Do any of you know the properties of Mandrakes?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," she explained. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
Professor Sprout smiled brightly. "Very good! Ten points to Gryffindor."
Thanks to Hermione, they were now only one-hundred-and-forty points in the trenches.
"Mandrakes play a vital role in the wizarding world. Most antidotes call for them. They're a bit tricky, though. They can be quite dangerous," said Professor Sprout. "Why is that?"
Aralynn threw her hand into the air before Hermione could. The brown-haired girl huffed at her. "Mandrake cries are fatal to those who hear them."
"Excellent, excellent!" Professor Sprout clapped. "That'll be another ten points to Gryffindor."
One-hundred-and-thirty points in the trenches.
The Professor was bustling about, sliding trays of dirt down the tables, ensuring that each group would have one to work with. There were small bunches of leaves poking out from the dirt, all lined in a neat row. "Now, keep in mind that Mandrakes are much like us humans," she explained. "They go through various stages of life, only it happens much quicker than ours. These batches are still seedlings. Which means their cries are not yet powerful enough to kill you, but still powerful enough to render you unconscious for several hours." She wiped her dirty hands off on the apron covering her robes. "As they're still quite young, expect them to be rather whiny. They don't appreciate being woken up."
Harry reached over to tap Aralynn's hand. "What does Professor Sprout mean by cries?"
Aralynn was staring down at the still bulbs in the tray. "They're like little plant people," she told him. "With arms and legs and eyes and mouths. It's… well, it's literal. They scream."
Harry looked mortified. He almost wished he hadn't asked at all. He was so unsettled by the information that he decided there was nothing else he wanted to know about the Mandrakes if given the choice.
Professor Sprout tapped the crate of fuzzy earmuffs with her fingers. "Come and get your earmuffs. When you put them on, please ensure that they are a firm fit. They must cover the entirety of your ears to effectively create a sound barrier. Once they're safe to remove, I'll signal you." She watched as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs collected the earmuffs. She grabbed the bright pink pair that no one else had wanted and put them on.
Their eyes were on her as she yanked one of the bulbs free from the tray in front of her. While Aralynn was avoiding her family before the schoolyear began, she had done some reading through her textbooks. There was a chapter on Mandrakes in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and so she knew what to expect when Professor Sprout unearthed it, but Harry likely didn't. She looked at her brother, who had a disgusted grimace on his face. He was staring at the bulb, which wasn't a bulb at all, but rather an ugly, muddy, fat little baby. It was wailing, though they couldn't hear it beneath the earmuffs.
The Professor thrust the Mandrake into a large pot next to the tray and began piling compost inside until the muddy baby was completely buried. She patted the top of the soil affectionately, then signaled for them to remove their earmuffs. "There will be pots and compost here in the lefthand corner. Let's go ahead and fill them…"
A curly-haired Hufflepuff boy settled between Harry and Aralynn, where he set down his pot and began filling it with compost. He began talking spiritedly to Harry. "My name's Justin," he greeted. "Justin Finch-Fletchley. I don't think we've formally met yet, but I know who you are. Who doesn't?" Justin laughed. "The famous Harry and Aralynn Potter! Your friends, too, of course; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."
Hermione, who was very focused on her pot and compost, only nodded briefly. Ron, who had his earmuffs on again and likely hadn't heard anything said to him, lifted a hand when he noticed Justin staring at him.
Aralynn smiled at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Justin."
"Pleasure's all mine!" he said excitedly. "You know, I almost went to Eton instead. Imagine how thrilled I was to receive my Hogwarts letter. My mother was shocked, but she's come around. I had her read one of Professor Lockhart's books. That seemed to help. It, at least, helped her understand how beneficial a trained wizard in the family could be… Have you read them yet? He's done impressive things. He's so brave and level-headed… Dunno if I could keep my cool quite as easily if I had to face half of what he has! I'm looking forward to his classes. There's so much learning to be done from him. Don't you think?"
"Sure," replied Harry hollowly, though Justin didn't seem to notice.
The Hufflepuff boy turned and looked at Aralynn for her input. "Oh, yeah," she said, trying muster some enthusiasm to no avail. Her voice sounded as empty as Harry's had, but Justin still hadn't noticed.
Before he could speak, Professor Sprout signaled for them to put their earmuffs again. Aralynn was thankful for the reprieve, not because she didn't like Justin or found him annoying, but because she couldn't stand to listen to anymore blather about Professor Lockhart. It was painful to listen to admiration for someone she found insufferable.
The students began transferring Mandrakes from tray to pot, which was much more difficult to do than Professor Sprout had made it seem. To say they didn't like being woken was an understatement. Aside from screaming, they also thrashed and kicked. They seemed to settle once they were potted and covered in compost but getting them there was a challenge. Most of them clutched onto the tops of the pots when they tried pushing them inside. One had even bitten Aralynn.
They were thankful when class ended. Despite being tired and sore, they rushed out of the greenhouse. They were eager to get away from the Mandrakes.
Aralynn, too, had been eager until she heard whispers following her again. It felt like she was stuck beneath a permanent spotlight, drawing in eyes wherever she went. She wanted to vanish from sight. Part of her even considered asking if she could use Harry's invisibility cloak between classes. She was already tired of the attention, and it was only the first day. She wanted to climb atop the High Table in the Great Hall and announce to them all that, despite her name, she was still the same person she had been last year. She wanted to tell the whole school that nothing had really changed, and that they didn't need to whisper secretively about her. Which, of course, wasn't something she could even if she wanted to. All she wanted was for the gossip to stop.
Transfiguration wasn't exactly respite. There was no one murmuring about her there, but Professor McGonagall shot daggers at Harry, Ron, and Aralynn anytime she looked at them. They were meant to be turning beetles into buttons, but it was difficult to focus when Aralynn could feel McGonagall's eyes burning holes through her skin. Guilt surrounded her like a thick, black, suffocating cloud of smoke, and it certainly didn't help with the pressure she was feeling to perform well while being glared at like she was the vilest thing to ever roam the earth.
Hermione, of course, managed the task quite quickly while the rest of them struggled to. The beetles were fast, scurrying around the tabletops frantically in hopes to avoid their wands. The one Harry had gotten seemed to be particularly fast. Ron, on the other hand, couldn't turn his beetle into a button at all. His wand, patched with Spellotape; was crackling and hissing and sparking anytime he tried to perform a spell. During one attempt, it had sputtered, and engulfed him in gray smoke that smelled strongly of sulfur.
Hermione was on her third beetle-to-button by the time Aralynn managed to transfigure even one. Her lacking performance only seemed to make McGonagall unhappier with her, as she looked fervidly between the beetle and Aralynn each time she swept by. It was like she'd forgotten everything she had learned the previous year, but she certainly hadn't. She had studied most of the summer, but her mind felt suspiciously empty.
There was too much distracting her. From the guilt over the car, to her conversation (if it could be called as much) with Fay Dunbar, the whispering that followed her, and McGonagall's wrathful gaze. She had promised herself that second year would be nothing like the first, but she felt like she was thrust right back into the mud, where she would stick and remain stuck. Only, this time, it wasn't questions that plagued her, but judgment. Some of which she deserved, but not most of it.
By the time lunch came around, Hermione had managed to transfigure seven buttons to Aralynn's measly three. Her summer idea to give Hermione a run for her money wasn't panning out as she had hoped.
When they gathered around the Gryffindor table for lunch, Ron began engorging himself immediately. "My wand is hopeless," he said, muffled through his full mouth. "Can't even turn a beetle into a button! How am I supposed to pass my classes at all this year?"
"Maybe they'll take it easy on you," said Harry. "For special circumstances?"
Ron scoffed. "If I should be so lucky," he said. He laid his wand on the table and looked at with a sigh. "The Spellotape didn't help."
Harry looked at the wand with him. "Could you write home for a new one?"
"Yeah, right," Ron replied sarcastically. "Just to get another Howler about how it's my fault that it's broken to begin with? No thanks. I'd rather suffocate in eggy smoke."
"You'll have to get a new one eventually," Hermione added. "Can't go running around with a broken wand forever. You could hurt someone."
"Won't be this year," Ron said. He shoved his wand into his bag and shook his head. "We'll see how Mum is feeling when I get home."
Hermione forced a cough. "Well, maybe you wouldn't be in this position if you hadn't flown a car to school…"
Ron glared at her. "Lay off, Hermione, we've been getting enough crap. Fay yelled at Ara this morning if you've forgotten. Might want to be a little more sensitive."
Hermione looked at Ron as though that were the most ridiculous sentence he had ever spoken to her. Of course, no one could blame her for that, considering he wasn't always the nicest to her. Instead of responding, she turned towards Aralynn. "Are you alright? You struggled more than I thought you would with those beetles."
Aralynn was poking at some shepherd's pie on her plate with her fork. "I'm alright. Guess I forgot some things over the summer."
Hermione looked at her pointedly. "You couldn't have. Are you still upset about what Fay said this morning?"
Aralynn only shrugged.
"Oh, come on," said Hermione with a nudge. "Talk to me."
"It's more than Fay," Aralynn sighed. "I feel awful about what happened with the car, too, but…"
"The whispers?"
Ron looked up. "What whispers?"
Hermione huffed at him. "Honestly, do you notice anything? People have been whispering about Ara all day."
Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"
"The Potter thing," Harry told him. "Probably."
"It's definitely the Potter thing," Aralynn said. She rubbed her face with her hands, again wishing she could disappear on the spot. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Should I try talking about it? Should I just try to pretend it's not happening at all? How am I supposed to convince them that I'm still the same person?"
Hermione looked sympathetic. "You shouldn't worry about it, Ara. All you need do is be yourself, and eventually, they'll realize nothing is any different. You can't convince someone of something they don't want to believe. They'll have to see it for themselves."
Aralynn wanted to pull her hair out. "How long is that going to take? Am I going to have to deal with this all year?"
Ron's eyes were wide. "What if it happens until we graduate?"
Hermione shot a dark look in his direction. "I sincerely doubt it. It'll die down eventually, it must."
Down the table, Aralynn could hear snickering. When she looked up, she saw Julie Parks and Edith Newton looking at her. They immediately bowed their heads towards their plates when she looked back. Aralynn set her hands in her lap and curled them into fists. She was on the verge of exploding—of yelling at them when Seamus Finnegan sat at her side.
"I wanted to ask," he began, gesturing between her and Harry. "Did you guys know?"
Aralynn's fingernails were digging into her palms. "Know what?"
Seamus looked confused. "Well, there was rumor about it late last year. Everyone's been talking about it this year, too. You're related, right? Twins, innit?"
Aralynn had to take a deep breath. Seamus was only asking, but she still wanted to rip his head off. "Yeah, it's true."
"Did you know?"
Aralynn felt her eye twitch. "No, Seamus. We didn't know."
"That's just barmy!" Seamus exclaimed. "Can't imagine what that was like to find out! Got your heads all in a twist, I'd bet."
Harry was eyeing Aralynn concernedly. He must have noticed that she was quickly becoming as red as a tomato. "It was a shock, yeah."
Seamus drummed his hands on the table. "That's mental," he said with a laugh. "Bit odd you grew up apart, though. D'you know why?"
Aralynn was pressing her fingernails so forcefully against her palms that they had begun to pierce her skin. When she felt blood beading to the surface, she slid her hands underneath her legs and sat on them. Normally, she was sure that Seamus's curiosity wouldn't have bothered her, but the way people shielded their lips with their hands and muttered to whoever was next to them had her feeling very temperamental. She couldn't even bring herself to respond without fear of lashing out, and so she remained silent, even when he looked expectantly at her.
Harry looked between Aralynn and Seamus before shrugging. "For protection," he answered. "It was necessary."
Hearing that made Aralynn's blood boil more. Was it? she thought. Sure, that was what Dumbledore had told them, but she still had her doubts. Doubts she had happily forgotten about until then.
Seamus leaned forward, prepared to continue asking questions, but he looked at the way Aralynn appeared as if she were about to explode, and quickly slid away. As soon as he was gone, she felt like she could breathe again. She didn't know how Harry managed to deal with the attention. She felt like she was burning beneath a magnifying glass, and she hated it. She didn't want to be irate, and she especially didn't want to feel like she was about to melt at any given moment.
"What's our next class?" she asked, hoping for any means of distraction from her own mind.
Hermione pulled back the cover of Voyages with Vampires to look at their schedule. "Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Aralynn slumped in her seat. "Fantastic." Lockhart was the last possible person who could make her feel better. If anything, he was going to make her feel worse. It was true enough that he would be talking too much about himself to amplify any attention on her but listening to him made her want to stab herself in the ears. At least she could tune him out, right?
