Chapter 20: Fairies matter

Ever since Elsa found out about the Mirror of Erised, she thought about it day and night. She tossed and turned in her bed, dreaming about the enchanted object, but in every dream, it took on a different shape: from a decorative mirror that people hung on walls, to a large free-standing one, to a small one she could fit in her drawer. She wondered if there was a trick or a spell she needed to get it to work. She wanted a lot of things that she didn't need to see in the mirror. How would the mirror know which of her desires it should show?

But tonight, she didn't dream about it. Instead, her dream morphed into a memory.

Every first day of spring, Mother went somewhere, and when she came back, she was young again. Jack and Elsa were around six years old when they secretly followed her, hoping to solve the mystery, but they lost her in the tunnels. She just disappeared as if swallowed by the rock. It had to be concealed by magic. Mother wasn't a witch but she had her ways.

Stubbornly, they kept searching for the hidden passage, and before they knew it, they chose different tunnels, got separated, and hopelessly lost. Elsa wept on the rocky floor, bruised from tripping in the dark, tired, and scared. She hated the darkness, but even more, she hated being alone.

"I won't cry," she promised herself when the darkness thickened around her. "Jack will find me. I won't cry."

She wrapped her arms around her bent legs, closed her eyes, and focused on the loud thump of her heart. She pictured her ear pressed against her twin's chest and wished it was his heartbeat she heard.

'Jack, find me,' she thought a prayer as the first tears fell on her cheeks.

She found comfort in imagining that he was with her and her hope grew to magical proportions. She always felt better when he was close. He made her feel safe.

In a few minutes, she heard quiet footsteps and looked toward the sound, afraid of what nightmare might come her way. Was it just a hag or something worse? Mother always warned them that dark creatures loomed in these tunnels and would pounce on them if they disobeyed her.

And then Jack's snow-white hair stood out in the darkness, chasing away her fears.

"Elsa!" he ran up to her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "I heard you. I heard you in my heart."

Elsa woke up slowly, wishing to prolong the warmth of the dream a little more. She loved how complete she felt whenever Jack was around. She missed him.

The day when they got lost in the tunnels was the day when they discovered their magical link. Though limited in what variety of feelings it could send, it was special. It was theirs. Mother could never take it away from them. But lately, it felt as if Hogwarts was threatening it.

It made sense. Since they were no longer stuck with each other, they had a choice of friends and activities, and the contrast between them grew. But she couldn't afford to lose him.

She sent him a signal, just a "Hi," type of feeling to check if their link still worked. He responded immediately and she breathed a sigh of relief. No, Hogwarts couldn't destroy what they had.

Later that day as they walked towards their Transfiguration class, Luna happily skipped next to Elsa. She wore one of her art projects in her blond hair today: a yellow paper flower which she tucked behind her ear. It suited her.

Elsa sometimes wished she could be as bold as her friend and proudly wear her art. Only yesterday, she created a set of beautiful snowflake-shaped ice hairpins which sparkled in the light like diamonds. If she left them in her hair, they wouldn't have melted. They came out perfect, and she wanted to show them off, but she chickened out at the last minute and took them off.

She was afraid of the questions that would've followed, "What spell did you use, Elsa? Teach me." How could she explain to them that she didn't need a spell or a wand to create them? She couldn't let them see how different she was from them so she hid her ability from everyone, even her best friend, even when suppressing it felt like it was suffocating her. Maybe one day the world would get to see her art, but for now, she had to be patient and play it safe.

As they approached their classroom, she ran into Jack who pulled her in for a quick hug. It reassured her that he needed her just as much as she needed him.

"Hey, sis." He released her. "Hi, Luna. I like the flower."

"I enchanted it," she said in a breathy voice. "Do you want to see?"

She tapped the flower with her wand and it changed the color from yellow to orange.

"Cool. This color looks good on you."

A group of Gryffindor girls that were passing by them whispered to each other loud enough for all of them to hear.

"What is she wearing?"

"If her father had a normal job, poor Loony wouldn't have to make her own ugly jewelry."

Luna must have heard it but seemed oblivious to the insult. Elsa was ready to defend her, but one of the girls turned on her housemates.

"Stop calling her that," she said like she was prepared to use violent means to enforce her request.

They rolled their eyes and sighed in unison.

"Seriously, Ginny. You know I'm right," one of them said, and they went inside with their noses held high.

"I'm sorry they're so mean to you," Ginny said to Luna.

"People say mean things when they feel threatened," Luna said in a detached way as if reciting poetry. "It restores their self-esteem."

Then, she skipped into the classroom, where she sat with Su Li, who was already busy reading their textbook.

Jack looked up and squinted, straining his brain. "I've never thought of it like that. She's wise."

"She's a Ravenclaw."

"And so is my brilliant sister," he said, encircling her with his arms and squeezing so hard, he lifted her off the ground.

"Jack, what's going on with you?" she squeaked in protest.

"You put me in a good mood by waking me up," he finished on a whisper, "with a signal."

"You're welcome. Now put me down."

She fixed her robe when he released her and marched inside before he did anything else crazy.

When they settled at their desk and waited for McGonagall, she asked, "So how have you been?"

"Great! I met a fairy, and I went flying. It was so cool. Have you tried it yet?"

"I did. Too easy. I got bored."

"Bored?" he exclaimed. "Are you sure we're related?"

McGonagall walked in so Elsa lowered her voice. "What is there to gush over? The broom obeyed me without a challenge. What accomplishment is that? Though I must admit, it would've been satisfying to get onto the Quidditch team after just one lesson when others might never get that good no matter how many years they train," she joked. "I bet no one has accomplished that before."

Jack grimaced and frost started building under his fingertips. "Potter did."

"Oh. Interesting." She wasn't as interested in the fact that Potter managed it, but was rather curious how mentioning Potter made Jack frost over their desk. "You don't like him?"

He shrugged. "I don't know why people care so much about everything he does and says. You should see how Colin worships him. I don't get it. He's ordinary."

"He's a one-time wonder but a wonder nonetheless. Everyone wants to know how a baby survived The Dark Lord's attack." She glanced over at Colin who sat in the first row with Ginny. "People feel special when they're around others who prove they're really special. What's the problem? You wish to be as famous?"

"What? No." He played with his frost deliberately this time. "Do you think I could get onto the Quidditch team?"

"Why won't you try? If flying is as easy to you as it is to me, you should have no problem."

"It's more than just flying. I've never even seen the game. I need to practice it to learn the rules and tricks." His face lit up. "Hey, do you want to practice with me?"

Elsa cringed at the idea of touching a dirty ball and getting sweaty for an utterly unproductive goal. "Sorry, but no."

McGonagall cleared her throat to gain everyone's attention and started explaining today's lesson. Then she showed off her favorite trick under the pretext of wanting to inspire them. She turned into a tabby cat and then back into herself, getting applause from the class.

Elsa had seen that trick before so she turned to Jack and whispered, "I've made progress in my project. The next step is to find the Mirror of Erised. Do you want to help me?"

"Sorry, but no."

"You're being petty."

He stuck out his tongue at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Very mature."

Then they both went quiet as McGonagall placed her hand on their table. "Do I have your attention?"

"Yes, professor," they answered together, keeping their heads down.

"Excellent."

As McGonagall resumed her lecture, Elsa tried to listen, but her thoughts drifted off until she had an epiphany. Hogwarts wasn't changing the relationship between Jack and her. They themselves were changing, growing into their own skin. Their newfound freedom allowed them to evolve. Though her brother might still be quite low on the maturity scale.

》《

Jack was starting to get used to the routine of the Potions class: prep the cauldron, cut up ingredients, add them in, stir, check the magic… Well, the last part was never in the instructions. At first, he did it because he found it fascinating how the potion's magic morphed with each new ingredient, but he found that it came with an advantage. He knew when to proceed to the next step, when the magic of the mixture was stable, or when it needed his attention. As far as he noticed, no one else could sense the magic the way he did, even their teacher. Their insensitivity to magic was their disadvantage. It surprised him how good he was at this. He rocked at Potions.

"I wish he'd start a fire already," Merlin grumbled and his eyes lingered on the dark fireplace. "How cold will it have to get before he lights it?"

He visibly shivered and adjusted the Gryffindor scarf around his neck to hide in it up to his lips. Late October weather brought in a chill throughout the castle that all students often complained about. Jack found it very comfortable. He was probably even more attentive because of it. Some classrooms were too warm and made him sleepy but the Potions classroom was always blissfully chilly.

Merlin moaned, "I forgot the mistletoe berries." He looked in the direction of the storage room with hatred. "It's even colder in there."

"I'll get it for you," Jack offered.

He went inside the storage room and searched the shelves for the berries. It was dark in that part of the room, so he had to rely on his sense of touch to find the recognizable wicker basket. As his hand touched different jars and boxes, he sensed a strangely familiar tingle of magic radiating from a small rectangular box. He opened the lid slowly and dipped his hand in. He felt something sleek and thin inside and pulled a few pieces out. He had a suspicion of what it was, or maybe rather, he knew what it was but hoped that he was wrong.

He brought his palm to light and stared at the pieces with crushing disbelief. As he feared, they were fairy wings. The box had to have at least a hundred of them, each carrying a unique signature of the fairy they were pulled from. He swallowed, and it tasted like bile.

'They really do this,' he thought, looking at the rainbow of colors reflected in the dim light. 'They pull their wings as if they were fruit trees, as if they weren't beings with feelings and lives.'

He carefully put the wings back in the box and quietly closed it, feeling as if he was covering a mass grave. His skin still tingled from the wing dust that rubbed off on it. The tingle seeped into his skin and spread through his body, but unlike that time when he held Reed in the greenhouse, this time, it didn't feel warm. It suffocated him.

He considered stealing the box so the wings couldn't be used, but what would that solve? They would just attack more fairies to replace it. He imagined a store where they sold stacks of boxes like this one, a farm where little fairies were bred like geese, trapped and fed only as long as they kept regrowing their beautiful wings. What an awful existence that must be.

And he couldn't do anything to stop them.

His eyes fell on a jar that contained what looked like an animal fetus floating in a yellowish liquid. A few other jars like that were aligned in a neat row behind it—lives that never had a chance.

'I need to get out of here,' he thought.

This time his eyes found a bundle of dried bird feet.

'Don't look at that.'

Now, he saw a jar with hundreds of small eyes pickled in a clear juice.

Every time he came into this room before, he made an effort to avoid looking at these objects because they made him uncomfortable, but this time, they were demanding attention, shaming him for trying to ignore what he knew was wrong.

He turned around to get away from the jars and accidentally knocked one to the ground. The glass noisily shattered and the liquid splashed on his shoes. Small eyes rolled around him, and once stopped, they were watching him, judging.

"Did you get lost, Nix?" Snape's drawl reached him from the classroom. "Should we send in a search party?"

Jack's vision swam and he braced himself against the storage rack. His stomach felt like it turned itself inside out. He was going to be sick.

Muffled sounds of laughter reached him but soon drowned in a piercing sound like someone was ringing a bell next to his ears. His blurry vision told him there was a dark shape before him.

Snape made an annoyed 'tsk' sound and asked, "What did you do?"

Jack took a couple of long breaths and focused on trying to not throw up on his professor's feet.

"I need to get outside," was all he could mumble.

Where was air? Why was air suddenly gone?

Snape grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the storage room. "Ealdor, take him to Madam Pomfrey before he befouls my classroom."

Someone took Jack by the arm and pulled him away. Gloomy stone walls of the dungeon reminded him that he was underground, bringing on an onslaught of memories against his wish. It all came back, all the years trapped between rock and earth, never seeing the light of day, stale air, no wind.

'Not now,' he begged his mind to drop the subject. Where was the air?

The stone walls were growing in size and closing in on him. He picked up the pace, running up the stairs to get out of the underground, to get outside and find air.

When they reached the ground floor, Jack gained hope that he could hold the queasiness back. In just a moment, he would feel the Earth under his feet and the wind tousling his hair, but a hard grip on his arm steered him to the main staircase. Jack realized they were going the wrong way and pulled on his arm trying to wrench it away.

"We're going this way, Jack," Merlin ordered, not letting go.

"No," he used his other hand to pry away fingers holding him. "Outside. I need to be outside."

Merlin pulled him hard. "You need to see Madam Pomfrey. You look sick."

Another wave of nausea hit him, he felt short of breath and shivered on the inside. His legs gave out under him and he fell on his knees hard. He supported himself with his hands and closed his eyes, trying to regain his strength.

"Breathe, Jack. Just breathe," Merlin said, tapping his shoulder. "What? Are you doing that?"

Jack took a few ragged breaths and opened his eyes. He groaned, seeing that frost started building on the floor under his hands. He was losing control. If he couldn't contain his magic, Merlin would see just how other he was. The flash of panic restored enough strength in him to run for the door. He heard Merlin's footsteps behind him and ran as fast as his legs could carry before his friend tried to stop him again. He wrenched the large door open and jumped over the stairs. He ran until he reached the grass where he kicked off his shoes.

Jack dug his toes into the dirt and raised his face to the cloudy sky. He focused on his feet touching the raw Earth, tried to feel deep into the ground, to feel the power of eternal Earth magic he stood on. It heard his calling and answered by lending its power to him. It seeped into him, grounding him, settling his stomach and nerves. He stood there for a while taking full advantage of the power he received until he felt like himself again. He could breathe again.

Jack opened his eyes and looked at his palms. The smudges of wing dust on his fingers and the tingle of the fairy magic were blaring evidence of the horror he'd uncovered. His heart ached, remembering how many wings were in that box. He was a part of this world now, the world of wizards who reduced body parts of magical creatures to potion ingredients. Why? Because they could. Wizards felt superior to all other magical creatures. Creatures like him.

He crouched on the ground and tried to rub off wing dust on the grass, but it would not come off. Its magic screamed at him that he was now as guilty as the wizards he fraternized with.

"What happened?" Merlin asked, and Jack worried what his friend thought about the frost he witnessed earlier. He put a hand on Jack's forehead. "You're freezing. You need to see Madam Pomfrey."

Jack took a long breath and shook his head. "No, I'm not sick. It was just… I'm not sure what it was. I'm better."

Merlin held his wrist with a thumb and forefinger.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm checking your pulse. You're too cold. We need to get inside."

Jack didn't know how to explain this without drawing attention to how inhuman he was. "It's normal. I'm always cold. I'm okay, really. I'd like to stay out here a bit longer."

Merlin did not look convinced. Jack couldn't stand the idea of being indoors right now. He yearned to sit on this grass for hours and do nothing, just enjoy the peacefulness of this spot.

"Please, Merlin. I just need a moment."

Merlin was unhappy about it but did not fight him anymore. Instead, he fussed over him, checked his pulse again, touched his forehead, inspected his eyes, and it all felt a little strange. Jack would have expected behavior like this from someone like McGonagall, not from a fellow student.

"If you won't talk to Madam Pomfrey, talk to me. What symptoms did you feel?"

Jack did not want to relive it all but caved in to get him to shut up. "Dizzy, nauseous, it was like there was no air, like I would suffocate. I had to get out of there."

"Was it Snape? Did he say something? Did he do something?"

"What? What about Snape?"

"Jack, it sounds like you had an anxiety attack. It's when stress and anxiety get so bad that you can feel it physically. Your body overreacts. What stressed you out if it wasn't Snape?"

Jack laid down on the grass and stared at the cloudy sky, wishing the sun would come out. He wasn't entirely sure if it was stress. When the fairy dust touched him, it felt like the weight of the castle collapsed on top of him. Rather than stress, he felt anger but wasn't sure how to talk about it. Based on how natural Merlin was among all of the strangeness of Hogwarts, he would have a typical wizard's opinion about potion ingredients. He wouldn't understand.

"Yeah, it was Snape. He stresses me out," Jack lied and continued looking at the sky.

Actually, he didn't mind Snape. The unpleasant wizard was full of himself, but really, Jack had met much worse people. He had lived with much worse people. It was easier to think of Snape as a vampire wanna-be. He looked comical from that point of view, maybe even a little sad. It had to be exhausting to be in a bad mood all the time. That man could use some fun in his life.

Right now, Jack would've loved to try his version of fun, to get on a broom and feel the wind on his skin. As if hearing his thoughts, a slight breeze ruffled his hair, and he breathed in the smells of the damp foliage it brought. He loved being outside.

'I'm not forgetting you,' he directed his thoughts to fairies, whose magic he still felt on his skin. 'You matter.'

He wished he could affect a change and save fairies from their inhumane fate at wizards' hands. A resolve was starting to form inside him, clearing the last of his nausea. He was not going to participate in the cruel wizard customs. His practice of magic would not involve exploitation of magical creatures. It was time someone said 'no.'