Chapter Eight: London
I: Under their noses
Two hours before Tabitha James was recalled to the Ministry of Magic, trouble was already beginning to brew in London. Ashton Anderson, however, was completely oblivious.
The Andersons lived in South Kensington, an affluent neighbourhood in one of London's richest boroughs. Anyone looking in from the outside would be justified in believing that Ashton and Ella Anderson had been brought up in luxury, and perhaps they had. They lived in a beautiful, semi-detached house, with more space than they knew what to do with; they went to the best schools; they socialised in circles that were best described as elite. Ashton had always been told that the world was at his feet, and yet he still felt indescribably alien.
It was difficult, knowing that the world you truly wanted to be in was simultaneously so close you could taste it and out of reach. For no matter what Ashton Anderson did, he would never, ever, have the magic that his sister had.
His parents tried to help him forget about it. They rarely discussed magic in the house, or mentioned Hogwarts by name. Even Ella tried to avoid mentioning magic in her regular letters to him, taking care to write them using paper and pen rather than parchment and quill. Ashton appreciated the effort, but he felt like it did nothing more than remind him of who he would never be.
It was this that he was dwelling on that night. He was sitting at his desk, a splendid piece of carpentry made out of solid wood. It was positioned by the large window that faced the front of the house; the curtains were tightly drawn, to prevent anyone passing by from looking in. The Andersons' were nothing if not private, although Ashton didn't think that there was anything really to see, for he was just working on a history essay that was due the next day. It was all so dull, he thought. What did he care about Greek gods for? It wasn't as if he believed in them, or if they were even relevant in today's world. He was good at schoolwork, and yet he disliked it terribly. He would have given anything at that moment to be told that Hogwarts had made a mistake, that he really belonged there. He would ditch his schoolbooks in an instant, giving up history and English and maths for Charms, Potions and Transfiguration.
But there was no chance. There was never going to be any chance.
Sighing, he returned to his books. Just one more paragraph, he told himself. All he had to do was write one more paragraph and hand it in. He knew he'd get high marks anyway. His teachers always said that he was a good student, if not a little lazy. If only he contributed more in class, if only he did a bit of extra reading, if only he showed more motivation. What was the use in any of this, when he knew there was more out there, more than this dull, dreary, muggle existence?
Crash.
What was that?
Ashton pushed his chair back with his feet, and got up. He knew he hadn't imagined it; there was most definitely a sound, and it seemed to be coming from outside. Tentatively, his fingers ran across the crinkled velvet of his curtains, and he pulled them back ever-so-slightly. Peeking out over the darkness below, he saw the edge of his mother's favourite turquoise pot. His brow crinkled in confusion; there was no wind, and he couldn't see anything that could have overturned it. It couldn't have possibly been a stray cat, for the pot was simply too heavy.
His curiosity not satiated, he moved towards his door, and opened it quietly, careful not to wake his parents, who were sleeping in a room down the corridor. He tip-toed across the carpet to one of the guest rooms, and entered it, making straight for the windows, where he pulled the curtains aside. It had a much better view of the front garden than his own room, and he was able to see the overturned pot in its' entirety. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure slip down the driveway and out of the gates, left slightly ajar. Ashton's mouth fell open in a mixture of shock and fear. Who could this mysterious intruder be? And, perhaps more importantly, what did he or she want?
It was then that he noticed the front door. Though unable to see it, he noticed an odd glow emanating from the vicinity; a pale green light had filtered through the nearby air, faintly illuminating the front yard in the same way that the carved pumpkins Ashton loved did during Hallowe'en. He felt his stomach turn anxiously and he was on the verge of opening the balcony door to investigate further when he felt a pair of strong hands grip his shoulders and pull him firmly back.
He almost screamed, but caught sight of the person behind him and let out a sigh of relief when he recognised the features. "You scared me, Rajiv bhaiya."
Rajiv Kumar, the Anderson's butler (of sorts), let go of Ashton's shoulder. He was a tall man, with heavy eyebrows and dark eyes. Many years older than both Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, he had been with the matriarch's family for long before Ashton was born. Age showed through the folds on his face, and yet he still possessed a youthfulness about his demeanour. Ashton loved him: he was a constant companion, a trusted figure and friend who had always been there when his parents had been working late at the office. Yet there was something about the severity of Rajiv's expression that filled Ashton with a great deal of trepidation.
"What are you doing out of bed, chotu?" Rajiv asked. He had called Ashton chotu, or small boy, ever since he was a baby, and though Ashton protested that he was grown up now, the older man maintained that he would always be a baby to him.
Ashton shuffled. "I heard a crash."
"Mm," Rajiv said, "so did I."
"There was someone out there! I saw them moving around."
Rajiv nodded, as if this was not new information. "The protection charms were breached."
"Then why aren't you out there catching whoever broke in? You have the ability to." He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice, but some escaped nevertheless.
"Because the protection charms around your room were breached when you decided to investigate." He paused before adding: "My greatest priority is your safety."
Ashton immediately felt guilt, heavy and caustic, settle in his stomach. To think that the intruder had gotten away because of him! "Sorry."
"At least you're not hurt."
"No. But," he pointed to the window, "there's something weird outside. There's an odd… glow."
"Glow?" Rajiv's heavy eyebrows furrowed, so that it seemed almost as if they were touching his eyes.
"Glow."
"Stay here."
Ashton watched as Rajiv stepped forward, and pulled a wand out of his robes. He'd seen the elegant oak stick so many times, and yet it never failed to make his breath catch in his throat, to make his entire body yearn with desire for the magic that he would never have. Pushing the golden curtains aside, the elder man unlocked the door to the balcony and opened it. The crisp London air rushed inside, tickling Ashton's nose, before the curtains fell in front of the door, blocking it off.
It was several moments before Rajiv re-entered, and when he did, Ashton received the fright of his life. In all his thirteen years, he had seen Rajiv angry, stern, happy, surprised, reprimanding...but never before had he seen him panicked.
"Go wake your parents, chotu," he said. "Tell them that they need to call the Ministry of Magic immediately."
.oOo.
II: Morning shocks
Knock, knock, knock.
The clock on her bedside table read 5:47 AM.
What even?
Knock, knock, knock.
"For Merlin's sake, Becca," Ella Anderson grumbled, turning over so that she was facing away from the door to her dormitory, and pulling her pillow over her ears, "if that's one of your boyfriends -"
"I don't have any boyfriends," came an angry, muffled shout from across the room. "I broke up with all of them."
"All of them?" If her voice was anything to go by, Madhuri Lodi's interest was piqued. Rochelle Williams, who slept in the bed next to Ella's, sat up out of curiosity, as if waiting expectantly for Becca Dillion to divulge vulgar details.
"All of them." Nothing further.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Then who's at the door?"
"Beats me."
"Can someone just open it already?" Ella whined. She had been having a particularly nice dream involving her, Leonardo Torricelli, a bookstore, and a plate of chocolates. The knocking had come at a rather inopportune moment when she had just been about to sample a particularly inviting hazelnut praline. Needless to say, all she wanted was to go back to sleep. "Madhuri?"
"Becca?"
"Ella's closest to the door," Becca pointed out.
Ella groaned. "Rochelle, you're sitting up, you go."
Rochelle, a pudgy dirty blonde with striking blue eyes that were (sadly) hidden behind thick purple glasses, pouted at Ella. "You're just lazy."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Go," Ella moaned, pulling the covers over her head. If this incessant sound didn't end, she'd never get back to sleep, and she'd never get to sample that hazelnut praline.
Rochelle groaned, but she threw her duvet back and got out of bed, trudging barefoot across the dorm until she reached the door. She pulled it backwards, heaving slightly, for the door was large and Rochelle was not a strong girl, and gasped when she saw who was on the other side. "Professor Flitwick! What are you doing here? Are we in trouble?"
This was enough to make Ella creep out from beneath her covers. Though he may be the head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick had never popped into the Ravenclaw dormitory this early in the morning. In fact, he never made casual visits to their dormitory at all. Something was wrong; she knew something was wrong the moment she saw Professor Flitwick's face. The small man was known for being jovial; his twinkling eyes and whiskered smile were perhaps his most loved attributes, and yet today he looked different. His eyebrows were furrowed, his forehead was crinkled, and the shine had gone out of his eyes.
A million things began to run through Ella's head: Leslie Stiles had been found dead; someone related to one of her roommates had been kidnapped; something had happened to Ashton or her parents.
Please, she thought desperately, anything but that.
Her stomach dropped, however, when after reassuring Rochelle that they were not in trouble, Professor Flitwick turned to face her. They made eye contact for a few nerve-wracking seconds before the Charms teacher spoke. "Miss Anderson," he said softly, "I'm going to need you to come with me."
Ella was acutely aware of Rochelle, Madhuri and Becca staring at her. Suddenly feeling very cold, she climbed out of bed and put on her furry bedroom slippers. "I'm not dressed," she said.
"It doesn't matter, Ella," Flitwick said, and Ella felt her heart turn to ice. She'd known Filius Flitwick for five years. He'd seen her grow from an anxious, quiet eleven-year-old into who she was today; he'd guided her to getting one hundred and thirteen percent in her fourth-year Charms final; he'd met with her at the beginning and end of each term, as he did with all Ravenclaws, and yet never before had he called her by her first name.
Something was wrong.
"Do any of us need to come, too?" Becca asked tentatively.
Flitwick shook his head. "No, Miss Dillion, you may all go back to sleep."
"Fat chance of that," she mumbled. If Flitwick heard her, he pretended not to.
"Miss Anderson," he said, turning back to Ella, who hadn't moved an inch, "we need to go."
"Yes," she said absent-mindedly, barely able to think over the pounding of her heart, "yes of course. I'll… follow you out."
Flitwick directed Ella to the common room and told her to wait there until he came down. As she walked down the stairs, she cast a glance over her shoulder. He was heading towards the sixth-year girls' dormitory.
She was not the only one in the common room; a collection of students, all in their pajamas, were huddled by the fireplace. Confusion settled over Ella, for there was no instantly discernible connection between the others. Both boys and girls were present, and they were from a number of year groups. A first-year girl sat in a corner, tightly clutching a worn-looking teddy bear, while a couple of seventh-years clustered together, whispering. She noticed Walter Hopkins, a muggleborn boy in her year, sitting slightly away from the group, and walked over to join him.
He smiled at her by way of greeting. "You don't know why we're here, do you?"
Ella shook her head. "Flitwick didn't say. You don't -"
"No. Same thing, he didn't say. Bit mean of him, really, dragging us out of bed at this hour and not telling us what for." He grinned, and Ella forced herself to grin back despite not feeling like it at all. Her stomach was flip-flopping in a most unpleasant manner, quite unlike the way it did when she was with Leonardo. She kept dreaming up horrible things that might have occurred to warrant such an awakening, and though she tried her best to suppress them, grotesque images of her parents and Ashton, injured grievously, kept popping into her mind.
The problems of an overactive imagination.
It wasn't long before Flitwick returned with three other girls senior to Ella. He motioned for everyone to follow him, and the group obliged, leaving the common room. They walked silently through the empty Hogwarts corridors, ignoring the stares and whispers of the portraits. Ella thought they must look rather odd; a ragtag group of Ravenclaws in their nightclothes with unbrushed hair and flushed faces.
When they reached the second floor, Ella realised with a start where they were going. She hadn't been this way often - only a few times, really, when she had been accompanying Teddy after he'd gone and gotten himself into trouble. Despite everything, a flash of anger ran through her. Although it had been a little more than a week, and everything in terms of her relationship with Leonardo had worked out fine, she still hadn't forgiven Teddy for his rash behaviour during the Hogsmeade trip. Alfie had tried to convince her to give in, but she had refused. Ella Anderson was many things, and though she would not admit it publicly, stubborn was most certainly one of them.
But she didn't want to think about Teddy, not now. People began to whisper anxiously as Flitwick stopped in front of the large gargoyle that led to the Headmistress' office and Ella felt her hands begin to sweat nervously. Nothing good could come of this; a trip to McGonagall's office this early in the morning could only mean bad news.
Flitwick clearly stated the password, and the gargoyle began to move. Many of the younger students gasped in awe. Ella had seen it before, and took the opportunity to survey the group around her again. She had the feeling that she was missing a simple, obvious connection, and as she climbed the stairs, she began to note the people around her. What did she know about them? She knew that Walter Hopkins was a muggleborn, and especially good at Transfiguration. She knew that Millie Duncan, a girl in the year below her, was on the Quidditch team and was also exceptionally good at Transfiguration, but she sincerely doubted that McGonagall wanted to see them at six AM to discuss Transfiguration. Plus, Oliver Kitt, a sixth-year who was also present, had failed his Transfiguration O.W.L. She didn't know much else about him, except that he was a Prefect, and that he lived near her in London.
Wait. That was it.
Millie Duncan lived in Camden - she remembered seeing and talking to her on a day trip to Camden Market. Walter Hopkins was always going on about how Croyden was in London, despite Ella's insistence that south London was really only on the margins of things and should be designated a suburb, if anything. They all lived in London.
But so did Becca Dillion, and she wasn't here. But Becca was a half-blood, and Millie, Walter and Oliver were all…
Muggleborns.
It hit her with the force of a bludger. Everyone around her was a muggleborn.
But she, Ella Anderson, was not.
The waiting room outside McGonagall's office had students scattered around it, all in their pajamas and all looking very lost. Professors Longbottom, Macmillan and Klossy stood near the middle, their worry clearly visible on their faces. Ella assumed that they had all brought the appropriate members of their houses to the Headmistress' office, but had told them nothing.
As Flitwick joined the other Heads, the door to McGonagall's office opened. The room quietened down instantly, and each and every gaze focused on the elderly Headmistress who, despite the hour, was impeccably dressed and showed no signs of tiredness. It was time for some answers.
"Thank you all for coming," McGonagall said, her voice quiet yet stern. "I'm sorry to have to wake you so early, but I'm afraid that a situation has developed. There is no need to panic; no one has been hurt, but it is important that you all listen very closely to what I have to say."
Ella let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in, and leaned back against one of McGonagall's cream-coloured sofas. Her parents were fine, Ashton was fine. No one was hurt. But evidently, everything was not okay.
"Earlier this morning," McGonagall continued, "the Ministry of Magic received reports from several of your houses, and upon further investigation, discovered that an incident had taken place at all of your households. Once again, I must stress that your families are fine, and we do not know what this all means yet." She paused briefly, before saying, "The dark mark has been magically imposed on each of your doors."
There was an audible gasp, and many of the children began to whisper amongst themselves. Ella could hear the panic, the fear in their voices; she herself was taken aback and had to steady herself by placing her hand on the top of the sofa. The dark mark at her house? It was all her nightmares, her mother's nightmares coming true. The dark mark was a symbol of all they dreaded, the forces that believed that Ella's mother and brother were disgraceful, that Ella herself was likely a freak of nature who should not have been allowed into Hogwarts. The dark mark was a threat.
"I must urge you not to panic," McGonagall said firmly. "The Ministry is investigating. Auror James and Auror Munroe have been recalled to London; the entire Auror force is working on this case. Protective units have been assigned to your families, and they will ensure that no harm will come to them."
"Why us?" a Gryffindor second-year called out in a small voice. "Why only us?"
McGonagall sighed. "Truthfully, we do not know, but two connections are apparent. You are all muggleborns, and you all live in London. That appears to be why, but once again, we do not know. I, and your Heads of House will endeavour to keep you informed as soon as we learn of new information."
There was a heavy silence, before she continued, "And now, I must ask you to all go back to your rooms. Write to your families, take the time that you need to process what has happened. But do not panic, and do not fear. That is what they want."
Many of the students hesitated, as if they were unwilling to leave, but the Heads of Houses guided them out. Ella hovered for a few seconds, and when Professor Flitwick came to tell her that she needed to leave, she begged to stay for a little longer. "I need to ask Professor McGonagall something," she said. "It's… important."
Flitwick nodded, and left her. When the office was empty, Ella approached Professor McGonagall tentatively.
"What can I do for you, Miss Anderson?" the Headmistress asked, glancing at Ella over her glasses.
All of a sudden, Ella felt as if she was eleven years old again, being called into the Headmistress' office with no idea why. She quickly regained her nerve, and said, "I just wanted to ask, Professor… you said that we were targeted because we were muggleborns, but -"
"Ah," said McGonagall. "But you -"
"Aren't," Ella finished. "So why my family?"
"Miss Anderson, I'm afraid I am unable to provide an answer that is more than mere speculation."
"Speculation will do," Ella said quickly. "Please."
"Very well," agreed the Headmistress, "but it is not to be repeated."
"Understood."
"We are unaware of how the perpetrators got hold of their information. Currently, it seems as if there was a leak in Hogwarts or Ministry intelligence regarding wizards registered at each address. Those that had a single wizard under seventeen residing at that location appear to have been targeted. Would I be correct in assuming that you are the only magical being at your residence?"
"No!" Ella exclaimed. "My mother, she'd be on the register, wouldn't she? I don't know about my brother, but my mum should be." Rajiv was there as well, but she knew that he was registered as residing at the small house next to theirs, for that was where his official home was.
"No, Miss Anderson," McGonagall said softly. "Squibs are not registered as magical beings. Neither are their children, unless, like you, they show magical ability. And I believe I am correct when I say that your brother does not show magical prowess?"
"Yes, you are correct," Ella replied in a small voice. "So what you're saying is that to whoever's behind this, I appear to be a muggleborn."
"I'm afraid so." McGonagall clasped her hands in front of her.
"And if they knew I was the daughter of a … a …" She couldn't bring herself to say it, for it was a word that they did not use, that they consciously avoided.
"I cannot say whether you would be more or less of a target. We know very little about whoever is orchestrating these attacks, Miss Anderson. We don't even know whether the people behind the events of this morning are those who have Miss Stiles and Miss Cooper."
Ella nodded silently, unsure of how to respond. She'd never thought herself safe, but she'd never been forced to confront the idea of herself as a target before. It was terrifying.
She left Professor McGonagall's office a few minutes later feeling shaken to her core. The Headmistress had tried to reassure her that she was fine, that she was safe, that no harm would come to her or her family, but Ella wondered how she could be so sure in a time of such uncertainty. Nothing was guaranteed, anything could happen, and it scared her.
She found herself in the middle of the corridor, unsure of where to go. Her mind was a complete mess; she didn't want to go back to her common room, where her roommates would immediately pounce on her, wanting desperately to know what was going on. She wanted to talk to someone who would understand, who would be able to help her sort things out in her head and come to terms with what was going on. She thought of Leonardo, but dismissed the idea quickly. He was lovely, he really was, but he just wouldn't get it - the Torricelli's were purebloods.
That left Alfie and Teddy. Alfie was a muggleborn, he'd understand it. Teddy was the son of a werewolf, and had lost his parents to the war. He'd empathise too. Whenever she had any kind of problem, she had always gone to Alfie and Teddy to help her solve it. They were, after all, her best friends.
But of course she had had to go and have that stupid argument with Teddy.
It all seemed so idiotic now. She'd yelled at him for embarrassing her, she'd alienated him, and now, when she needed him the most, she had nowhere to turn.
In that split second, she suddenly felt utterly and completely alone.
The argument had gone on too long, she thought to herself. It was time that it ended, that she ended it. Whatever was going on out there in the world was much more important than some stupid grudge she was stubbornly clinging to. She needed to stop being so stubborn.
And so, at seven thirty, when Alfie and Teddy left the Hufflepuff common room for breakfast, they were surprised to see Ella Anderson waiting outside.
.oOo.
III: Reparations
"I need to speak with you."
Teddy stared at Ella, somewhat unbelievingly. It had been days since she'd spoken to him, days since she'd even been this close to him. He had half a mind to walk straight past her, but there was something odd about the way she looked at him. Ella Anderson was the kind of girl who did not usually wear her emotions on her face, and yet she stood in front of him now, her eyes red, her face flushed and her hands shaking ever-so-slightly.
There was something going on.
"I'm listening," he said, folding his arms. Alfie glanced at both of them nervously.
"I…" Ella faltered. "I'm sorry."
"Why now?"
"Because something's happened."
"Of course." He felt bitter; she was only apologising because she realised that she needed him.
"No, Teddy, you don't understand," she pressed on. "I'm not only apologising because something's happened. I'm really sorry. It was completely unfair of me to lash out at you for attacking Terence. I mean, you shouldn't have attacked Terence, that was completely stupid and you clearly didn't think but -"
"Ella," Alfie warned.
"Sorry," she said. "What I meant to say was, you had your reasons, and I shouldn't have stayed mad at you like this for so long. I'm sorry."
Teddy bit his lip. "Why now?"
"Something's happened, something bad." She took a deep breath, and slowly began to tell them about everything she had learned and experienced, from the moment that Flitwick had knocked on her door, to her last words in Professor McGonagall's office. Alfie and Teddy were the only two people at Hogwarts, with the exception of the teachers, who knew her blood-status and odd family history; others simply assumed that she was a half-blood.
Teddy listened, hardly able to believe his ears. He had been worried that there might be some sort of retaliation to the Ministry's refusal to give in to the demands of the kidnappers, but this? It seemed crazy to think that the belligerents had so much detailed information that they could target every single muggleborn in London, right under the Ministry's nose. And poor, poor Ella. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have your family targeted like that.
"I just didn't know where to go," Ella concluded, her voice thick as if she was trying to hold back tears. "I wanted to talk to both of you so badly, but then I remembered that we were fighting, Teddy, and I just felt so awful." She broke off as the tears she'd been trying to restrain began to flow. "I'm so sorry. Please...forgive me."
Teddy and Alfie both stepped forward to comfort the brunette, wrapping their arms around her. "Of course I forgive you," Teddy whispered into Ella's hair. "Of course I do."
"We're both always here for you," said Alfie.
She sobbed silently into their robes.
.oOo.
IV: Wildfire
It took Ella a while to recover. She got permission from Professor Flitwick to skip classes that day, and Teddy and Alfie covered for her with the other students, saying that she was feeling unwell. It wasn't long, however, before everyone knew about the incident in London. Tabitha James and Angus Munroe were missing during meals, and rumours began to circulate that they'd been recalled to London. Many of the muggleborns who had been called to McGonagall's office had told their friends about what had happened, who had then told their friends, and so forth.
It was all over the school within twenty-four hours.
Teddy noticed when Ella returned that she was a little more subdued than normal for a few days. No one really spoke to her about what had happened, for few outside of Teddy, Alfie and Leonardo Torricelli knew that she'd been targeted. After all, Ella was not a muggleborn, and most people thought she was a half-blood, well out of harm's way. When it surfaced that one or two half-bloods had been targeted, people began to ask questions, but Ella quietly avoided the subject. Teddy understood that she did not want people to get suspicious, and he and Alfie took it upon themselves to be with her at all times and deflect any questions.
Slowly, over the next week, the shock died down and things returned to normal - or rather, as normal as they could be. People were still on edge, and certain topics were discussed more frequently than usual, but Ella was back to her usual smiling self, and that was really all that mattered to Teddy. She'd spoken to her parents and her brother, and was satisfied that they really were fine.
She was animatedly telling them about how her brother had gotten into trouble for drawing a rather rude symbol on a whiteboard in school when his teacher was outside during Potions. Teddy and Alfie listened intently, laughing at Ashton's silliness.
"He'd be a Gryffindor, for sure," Teddy suggested. "Only Gryffindor's can do things like that."
Ella grinned. "He certainly wouldn't be a Ravenclaw, what with the interest he shows in his work. He's good at it though."
"Just like you then," Alfie beamed.
"Yeah, but I show interest in my work. I love Potions."
"That's good to hear," came a voice from behind the trio. Teddy jumped, but managed not to spill the chopped rat's tails in his hands into his potion. Alfie, however, was not so lucky.
"Mr. Hayes, you must resolve your clumsiness if you wish to do well in your final exams," Smith said, taking his wand out and swiftly correct Alfie's mistakes.
Alfie blushed. "Sorry, Professor."
"Don't be sorry, Mr. Hayes. We'll just have to find a solution."
Ella glanced inside her Potions bag. "Drat. I'm out of serpent horns. I'll have to go to the storeroom - Teddy, can you watch my potion?"
"Don't worry, Miss Anderson," the professor said. "I'm about to go to the storeroom in any case; I can get some for you."
"Oh, Professor, I wouldn't want to be burdensome."
"Nonsense. What with the week you've had, it's the least I can do."
"How nice of him," Teddy said, as Smith left the dungeon.
Ella nodded. "He's a nice guy. Good teacher."
"He's not just a good teacher," exclaimed Daisy Shipkins from a nearby bench. "He's dreamy."
"Here we go again," Teddy whispered.
"If he wasn't a teacher, I'd snap that up immediately," the redhead said.
"I don't see why him being a teacher should stop you," Becca Dillion, who was sitting at the bench next to Daisy's, said cheekily. "After all, it didn't stop Bella Watson and Professor Macmillan, did it?"
At this, Alfie gasped. "What?"
"Oh, come off it, Hayes, you have to have heard!" said Becca. "Bella Watson and Professor Macmillan. They're going out."
"And probably doing more than just that," Daisy whispered, though it was loud enough for everyone at the surrounding tables to hear.
Teddy was about to say that it was just a silly rumour, but was stopped by Professor Smith's re-entrance. Everyone quickly returned to their potions, pretending to be hard at work. The professor dropped Ella's serpent horns off, and then resumed surveying the class, helping out where required. Alfie turned to Teddy and Ella and said worriedly, "People don't believe what the Shipkins sisters are saying about Bella and Professor Macmillan, do they? It's just something stupid that Laura Shipkins made up because she's jealous."
Ella bit her lip, as if debating whether to say anything. When Alfie and Teddy gave her an expectant look, she said, "Well… I've heard things circulating."
"You can't possibly -"
"I never said I believed the rumours, I just said that I've heard them going around, that's all."
"You're clever," Teddy said. "You wouldn't believe them."
"No, but a lot of people are believing them. Laura Shipkins might be a jealous you-know-what, but she also has a lot of friends. And she's known for knowing a lot about Hogwarts and what goes on in it. People believe her."
"Then they're idiots."
Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Professor Smith decided that they had all been talking far too much, and needed to focus on their work. It was another half an hour before Potions ended, and they could chat freely again. They left the dungeon with Becca, Madhuri Lodi and Rochelle Williams, who were chatting animatedly about Bella and Macmillan.
"They're just so cute," Becca sighed. "Both so blonde and gorgeous."
"Can you imagine what their children would look like?" Rochelle said, a wicked grin on her face.
"Come on guys," Alfie said desperately. "You can't possibly believe that Bella Watson, our wonderful, beautiful, fabulous -"
"We get it."
"- Head Girl would date a professor?"
"Well, Macmillan's not that much older than us," Madhuri pointed out.
"And he's gorgeous," Becca said, batting her eyelashes. "If you ignore the slightly large ears, that is."
"I think it's unlikely," Teddy added. "It's just a stupid rumour. Laura Shipkins made it up because she's jealous of Bella."
"Oh, we know Laura's jealous of Bella," Rochelle said. "But I heard this from someone else."
"Who?"
"Alfred Cattermole."
"What?" Ella, Alfie and Teddy exclaimed in unison. "The Head Boy?"
"Well, he didn't say they were going out or sleeping together, or anything in that many words. But you know that he and Bella were seeing each other at the beginning of the year?"
"No, actually," Alfie said stiffly. Teddy suppressed a giggle; Alfie never liked the people who Bella dated.
"Oh? Well, they were, everyone knew that."
"I knew that," Ella supplied helpfully.
"Alfred's really good friends with my brother, and apparently he told him that he and Bella had broken up weeks ago because - and you're not going to believe this - he thought Bella was cheating on him! She denied it, of course, but he thought it was really obvious. And he said that she spent so much time with Macmillan."
"Yeah, but he didn't say that she was cheating with Macmillan," Alfie pointed out.
Rochelle glared at him. "Logic, Hayes, logic."
"What does she mean?" he asked Ella.
"She means that the most logical conclusion is that Bella cheated on Cattermole with Macmillan."
"That's flawed logic!"
"No, it's not," Madhuri Lodi said.
"There's a reason you're not in Ravenclaw, Alfie," said Becca haughtily.
Alfie turned very red and mumbled something under his breath. Teddy glared at Becca. "You don't need to be rude."
Becca shrugged. "I'm just saying, he can't see it because he's got a crush on Bella."
"No, I don't!" Alfie said indignantly.
"Come off it, Hayes, it's obvious."
"It is," Ella whispered, and Alfie glared at her.
"You're not helping right now," he said.
"Bella spends all her time with Macmillan. I'm not even in her house and I can see that. Look," she pointed, "there they are now."
Sure enough, the tall, blonde Head Girl was standing outside the door to Professor Macmillan's office. She was holding a stack of large Defense Against the Dark Arts books, and was leaning on the wall while chatting to the professor, who stood in the doorframe. The Ravenclaw girls, much to Teddy's embarrassment, began to giggle and shush each other loudly, not removing their gaze from Bella and Macmillan. A gaggle of Gryffindors nearby were staring at the proposed couple, whispering.
Teddy glanced at Alfie and Ella. "This can't be good."
.oOo.
V. Standing up
"Teddy," Matilda Goshawk asked, approaching him in the common room one evening before dinner, "you wouldn't happen to have the updated fifth-year patrol schedule, would you?"
Teddy glanced up from his Astronomy homework, grateful for the distraction. He and Alfie had been working on it for the better part of an hour, unable to make heads or tails of it. If only they had Ella - but the Ravenclaw was having tea with Leonardo Torricelli, and had given them strict instructions that she was not to be interrupted under any circumstances.
"Even if Teddy attacks Terence?" Alfie had said, laughing at his own joke. He'd sobered immediately when Teddy and Ella had glared at him and muttered, "Not funny," in unison.
"Sorry," Teddy replied to Matilda, shaking his head. "Bella and Cattermole haven't confirmed mine and Ella's yet, so I didn't get a new one."
"Drat," Matilda sighed, collapsing on a sofa near the boys. "I got mine yesterday, but I can't find it for the life of me. The worst part is that I know that I've got patrol either today or tomorrow, but I don't know which one, and I don't know where. I'm always losing things."
"Where's your badge?" Alfie asked rather bluntly. Teddy, who hadn't noticed that Matilda wasn't wearing her Prefect badge, glanced quickly at the point just above the chest pocket of her robes, where Matilda usually wore the little golden pin. Surely enough, it was missing.
Matilda flushed very red. "Like I said, I'm always losing things," she muttered, but Teddy noticed that she didn't quite meet his or Alfie's eyes.
"Mat," he said gently, "Daisy took it again, didn't she?"
"What? Why would you think that?" Matilda feigned wide-eyed surprise.
"You're not a very good liar," he pointed out.
She bit her lip nervously. "Fair."
"So she took it?" Alfie confirmed.
"I can't be certain -"
"She took it."
"Who else could it have been? I knew I kept it on my bedside table with the patrol schedule, but when I came back after lunch, it was gone."
"Why did you take it off in the first place?"
"The pin at the back got bent, I needed to get it fixed before I lost it. I was worried about it falling off, so I didn't even think about where I was putting it. I should have put it in a drawer or something, I should have known Daisy would pull a stunt like this. I'm just so-"
"Hey," Teddy interjected quickly. "This isn't your fault. Daisy's just jealous that you're a prefect and she's not. It's not fair on you at all. Honestly," he paused for a second before continuing, deciding that it was about time that Matilda heard what they'd all been thinking for a very long time, "I don't know why you're still friends with her."
"Because she's Daisy," Matilda sighed. She stressed the name in a way very different from, say, how Alfie spoke about Bella. There was no trickle of admiration or affection - just fatigue and a twinge of trepidation. "Have you tried going up against her?"
Teddy hesitated. "No," he admitted.
"But Ella has," Alfie added, "and she's just fine. Well, she's still got that barmy obsession with books, but you know what I mean."
"True." The brunette fiddled with a loose thread on her robes. "I wish I was more assertive. That I stood up for myself more."
"But you can be," Teddy said comfortingly, thinking he was quite one to talk, considering his history of standing up for himself in front of Terence Gates. "You don't need to be rude, or mean, or get into a fight, or anything like that. You just need to be firm and strong and say that you're not going to take any of Daisy's nonsense anymore."
"Right," Matilda said, sounding rather shaky. "I need to be firm."
"Exactly."
"And strong." Still more hesitant than confident.
"Exactly!" Alfie exclaimed, a massive grin spreading across his face. "That's it!"
She smiled nervously. "A-and tell her I'm not going to take her nonsense anymore."
"Precisely," Teddy said, giving her a thumbs up.
"Oh, and look," Alfie said, glancing towards the entrance to the common room, "you can start right now!"
"What?" Matilda looked up, terrified.
Surely enough, Daisy Shipkins had pranced into the common room with Giovanna Downing and Morna Clemmons, as though she was a queen entering her throne room, her ladies-in-waiting behind her. She looked completely and utterly ridiculous to Teddy; unfortunately for him, few others seemed to share his view. Daisy was greeted by a number of third and fourth year girls, all of whom seemed to look up to her as the epitome of social standing.
"Not now," Matilda turned to the boys, horror evident in her eyes. "I can't just go up to her now."
"Then when?" Teddy asked
"Not now." She lowered her voice as the girls approached them and sat down on the collection of armchairs nearby. Teddy noticed Daisy use her foot to shift the angle of one slightly, so that when she sat on it, she was not facing inwards, but rather slightly outwards. He wasn't quite sure what the utility of such a movement could be until she began to speak.
"I feel so invigorated," she said loudly, her voice traveling outside her little circle to reach Teddy, Alfie and Matilda's ears. "Like I could stay up much longer than curfew. If only I was a Prefect, I'd be able to."
"Really?" Morna Clemmons asked blankly.
"Yes, Morna, they go patrolling around."
"That's allowed?"
"Well, they can only go on specific nights and there's a schedule." She glanced at Matilda.
"Go on," Teddy whispered to a shivering Matilda. "What further evidence do you need that she's got it? Go ask for it back!"
"If you don't have the schedule," Daisy continued, "my, my, you'd probably get into all sorts of trouble. Neglecting your duties, getting caught by Knobbles - and we all know that Knobbles doesn't like students out of bed. What did he do to you last year, Morna, sentence you to -"
"Cleaning out the trophy room twice a week for a whole month," Morna said, shuddering. "it wasn't all bad, but he kept pitting me against whoever was in there with me, saying that whoever cleaned the most trophies would have their punishment lifted."
"And you?"
"Always lost. I had to do six weeks instead of a month because he thought I hadn't learned anything."
"My, that sounds awful," Daisy said, placing a hand over her heart in faux-sympathy. "I would hate to be in that kind of position if I got the day of my patrol wrong! I suppose it's a good thing I'm not a Prefect."
She paused, and Teddy had a sinking feeling that she was building up to something bad.
He wasn't disappointed.
"It's just, well, the badge looks so good on me, doesn't it?" Slowly and dramatically, she lifted her long ginger locks and flipped them over her shoulder. The small badge on her chest pocket caught the light, sending golden glows across the room.
Teddy and Alfie gasped in unison. Of all the nerve - only Daisy Shipkins could be so brazen, could so obviously taunt poor Matilda. And Matilda Goshawk was the kind of girl who would take it, Teddy thought, as he glanced at the mousy brunette. She wasn't one for confrontation; she was too desperate to remain in Daisy's good books. He felt his heart go out to her, because he knew that no matter what, she wouldn't stand up for himself.
Teddy Lupin thought himself a good judge of character and he was most of the time. But today, he had severely underestimated Matilda Goshawk.
Perhaps it was the conversation they had just had. Perhaps Daisy had taken it a step too far. Perhaps she was just sick of staying silent and complacent. But Matilda Goshawk got up from her seat and marched over to Daisy Shipkins, her mouth taut. She thrust her hand out and said, "Give it back, Daisy." Her voice was commanding, almost demanding - Teddy was taken aback, for it was a tone that he had never heard from Matilda. Michael, yes, for the Slytherin often felt entitled to things and was determined to get them no matter what, but Matilda was always so quiet, so accepting of whatever life threw her way. It was the first time that he had seen a shadow of her brother in her.
Morna Clemmons and Giovanna Downing stared at Matilda, shocked. Daisy seemed to express similar sentiments, but recovered quickly. "Give what back?"
"My badge."
"How do you know it's your badge?" Daisy asked innocently.
"I'm sick of this, Daisy!" Matilda exclaimed, the pitch of her voice lilting upwards. "Give it back!"
"It's not yours!"
"Yes, it is," Matilda replied. She hesitated for a moment, and then added, "I'm not going to take any more of your nonsense."
"My nonsense?"
"You're… you're jealous!"
Morna Clemmons gasped.
"I am not jealous," Daisy exclaimed, though her face was starting to colour. "Why would I be jealous of you?"
"Because I'm a Prefect and you're not. You know something, I worked really, really hard for four years. I got good marks in every class, and maybe I'm not as popular as you are, but I like to think that I'm a nice person. I have good friends," she glanced at Teddy and Alfie, and Teddy felt his heart warm slightly, "and I don't resort to silly pranks. Maybe if you'd done the same, you'd have gotten Prefect."
Alfie let out a low whistle. "Go, Mat. I didn't realise she had it in her."
"Neither did I," Teddy whispered, watching his fellow Prefect incredulously. Was this the same Matilda Goshawk who'd been so afraid of Daisy Shipkins when she'd walked into the room? Or had some sort of spirit taken over her body?
"I'm so done with you, Matilda!" Daisy shrieked, getting to her feet. Teddy thought he saw Matilda shake slightly, but she held her ground.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You… you…" The ginger was absolutely furious. "You can't accuse me of all those things!"
"Daise -" Giovanna interrupted, but Daisy held up a hand to shush her.
"You think you're so brave just because you're a Goshawk. Well, let me tell you something. There's a reason you're not a Gryffindor. You're a coward. In five years, you've never stood up to me. Five years. Why? Because you don't have the guts. You're the kind of little girl who doesn't stand up to anyone because you're too scared of alienating them."
"No, Daisy, it's because we were friends."
"Friends? We were never friends."
"Really? What do you call all the things I did for you?"
"You did nothing for me!" Daisy Shipkins screamed; it was almost as if she wasn't aware that she was lying. "You've done nothing for anyone but yourself. You pretend to be such an innocent little student, so perfect, so wonderful. You pretend like you've never done anything wrong, but you're no better than that slag Bella Watson - manipulating everyone so that they see things your way, and making sure that you pull me down."
"That's not true!"
"Daisy -" Giovanna tried again. No luck.
"Really?" Daisy said, her eyes narrowing maliciously. "Then why is it that Michael, your own twin, can't even stand to be in the same room as you?"
Matilda stiffened, but didn't say anything.
"Hit a nerve, have I?"
"You know nothing about Michael."
"Daisy, that's enough!" Teddy and Giovanna Downing exclaimed in unison, both jumping up at the same time. Teddy glanced at Giovanna, surprised; he'd never seen her stand up to Daisy before. In fact, she'd always been the quiet one in the trio. And yet now she looked incredibly angry, her dark eyes burning with fire, and her hands clenched into fists.
"Stop," she said. "Leave Matilda alone."
"You can't possibly be standing up for her," Daisy rounded on Giovanna.
"I am."
"You know what this means."
"I do."
"Do you though?"
"I do," Giovanna repeated through gritted teeth.
Daisy walked over to Giovanna, coming very, very close to her. "You don't want to do this, Gi."
"As far as I'm concerned, you're wrong about Matilda, and she's right about you. She's done nothing to you, except become Prefect. And guess what - she deserved it."
"You're out." Daisy's voice was cold, almost expressionless.
"Glad to hear it," Giovanna said icily. "I don't want to be friends with the likes of you anyway." She turned to Matilda, who was watching the scene with incredulity, and said kindly, "Let's go, Mat."
Matilda nodded silently, linked arms with Giovanna and left the room. Before they reached the door, however, she turned around and glanced back at Teddy and Alfie. Their eyes met, and she mouthed, "Thank you."
"I'm going to my room!" Daisy Shipkins announced angrily, before storming off. Morna Clemmons followed her, and soon, Teddy and Alfie were the only two fifth-years remaining in the Common Room.
"Well…" Alfie said slowly. "I know I'm not good at Divination, but boy did I not see that coming."
Teddy nodded in reply, though he said nothing. He'd never seen Matilda show such strength of character before - come to think of it, he'd never seen Giovanna Downing show any kind of strength of character either. They'd both surprised him pleasantly - he was glad that Matilda had finally learned to stand up for herself, and he was pleased that Giovanna had gone against Daisy to stand up for Matilda. He could only hope that she would continue to be a good friend to her.
After all, he thought, what with everything going on, friends were more important than ever.
.oOo.
VI. Love?
Alfie Hayes was exhausted.
He'd been in the library since dinner time, which felt like hours ago, working steadfastly on his Herbology project. It was due in two days time, and Alfie was determined to do well on it. Professor Longbottom was one of the only teachers who ever showed a general interest in Alfie; many of the others passed him over, for he was not as intelligent as Ella or Teddy, but he was not dull either. He was merely … average.
And no one ever looked twice at average.
Alfie Hayes was a hard worker, but no matter what he did, he never seemed to be able to get the grades that his friends did. Still, he wasn't about to give up. He was determined to one day be as good a student as he was a Quidditch player, though he knew it wouldn't come easily. He had to start small, and work steadily. It would fall into place some day.
He left the library when it closed, shoving his books into his bag and leaving the suffocating, silent space with the few other students who had been working well into the night. If only the library would stay open just a little bit longer, he would have been able to finish the chapter he'd been reading on the proposed healing effects of Class I magical plants.
A familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. "Alfie?"
Bella Watson was walking towards him, her pink lips curved upwards in a delicate, angelic smile. Her golden hair was almost iridescent in the dimmed corridors. To him, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of the portraits on the wall, a masterpiece come to life.
It took him a few moments, before he managed to say, "Hi, Bella." Without thinking, he added, "What are you doing here?". He immediately regretted it. Did he sound too accusatory? He didn't mean to imply that she shouldn't be there - after all, she had as much right to roam the corridors between the Hufflepuff common room and the library as he did. It wasn't even as if it was past curfew. Oh goodness, she didn't hate him now, did she?
His fears were put to rest when Bella, instead of being furious, simply smiled and shrugged. "Same as you, I suppose. Library?"
"Oh," he said, letting out a relieved laugh. "Yeah."
"I have a massive Potions project due tomorrow," she explained, "and I wanted to make sure that it was perfect. Smith's really ... well, he's very strict, and I want to do well in my N.E.W.T.s so I figured better safe than sorry and -" she continued on, practically ranting about her Potions project and the distant final exams. Alfie tried his best to hide his surprise, though he was afraid that he wasn't all that successful. Bella Watson was always so well-spoken; she chose each word with care, and created sentences that, to Alfie, sounded as if they might have come from novels or poems composed by the kind of authors studied at Oxford. It was odd to hear her ramble in such an uncharacteristic manner.
"Sorry," said Bella, noticing that Alfie's eyes had glazed over slightly. "I was going on, wasn't I?"
"N-no," Alfie stuttered, "of course not! You -" he broke off when she gave him a meaningful look, and sighed. "Alright, just a little bit."
"Sorry," she repeated. "I've been doing a lot of that lately."
"Is everything alright?" Alfie asked, attempting to sound compassionate and trustworthy.
Bella bit her lip. "Not really." She glanced over her shoulder and, once satisfied that no one else was around, said, "Alfie, can I ask you something?"
"Of course!' Alfie exclaimed, rather loudly. "Anything."
"And you won't repeat it to anyone?"
"Of course not," he replied staunchly, feeling a bit of a rush go up his spine. Though he considered Bella a friend, they'd never had the kind of relationship where she confided in him, where she came to him for advice (if this was what this was - he was fully aware that she might want to ask something trite, like when the next Quidditch practice was). He was thrilled that she felt like she could trust him.
"It's just," she hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, "well, there have been some...things that I've been hearing lately, and I just wanted to know whether I was imagining them. I mean, obviously, I wasn't imagining them, but you know when you hear something and then suddenly you start hearing it everywhere even though it's really not that big of a deal?" Alfie nodded, and she continued, "I just wanted to know whether I was blowing stuff out of proportion."
"Anything you need, Bella," Alfie said. He did not need to try to make his tone earnest; he would do anything for Bella Watson.
She paused for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying, very quickly, "Are people talking about me and Professor Macmillan?"
Of all the things she could have asked him, this was the one that Alfie had not been expecting. He would have been less surprised if she'd asked him about Professor Smith's past as a tango dancer. Not that Professor Smith had a past as a tango dancer. "What do you mean?"
"Me and Professor Macmillan," she repeated. "In a relationship. Are people talking? About that? It's just, well, I've heard rumors, and - " she trailed off uncertainly.
Alfie's mouth opened and closed like a fish but no sound came out. His silence spoke volumes.
"Alfie -"
"Are you and Macmillan...you know, are you?" Alfie said at last, not sure whether he really wanted to know the answer.
"Oh, Merlin, no!" Bella looked shocked, and Alfie felt a wave of relief rush over him. "I would never...he would never, goodness gracious, absolutely not! But I've heard things, and I just wanted to see whether it was just my year talking about it, or whether you've heard things too."
Alfie hesitated.
"Don't lie to me, please," she said softly, her voice pleading. "I came to you because I thought you'd tell me the truth."
"Yes," Alfie said quietly. "People have been talking."
"A lot of people?"
"A lot of people."
He watched closely as her face fell ever so slightly. She maintained a great deal of control over her facial displays of emotion, but there was something about the way the light went out of her eyes, the way her mouth curved down at the edges, that made him feel awful for doing this (albeit, indirectly) to her. He hated being the bearer of bad news, of being the one to confirm her fears. Yet how could he lie to Bella Watson?
"That Laura Shipkins," she said through gritted teeth, "has gone too far this time."
"She has," Alfie agreed.
"This could be really damaging, not just for me, but for Macmillan." Her face suddenly turned white. "Oh, Merlin, what if he already knows about the rumors? What if he thinks I'm the one spreading them? Oh, Merlin!"
She looked as if she was about to collapse. Alfie rushes to her side, ready to steady her if she needed it, though he was acutely aware that she was a few inches taller than he was.
"Hey," he said softly, "hey, it's alright. People are talking, yeah, but I don't think they believe what they're saying, not really. They know you and they know that you'd never break the rules like that."
She nodded uncertainly. "Do you really think so, Alfie?"
"Of course," Alfie replied, smiling at her. "You're wonderful, Bella, and everyone knows it."
Colour returned to her face. "You're too sweet, Alfie."
He blushed. "It's the least I can do."
They stood in silence for a few moments, each contemplating their own, unique situations. It was Alfie who spoke eventually: "Do you want to go back to the common room now?"
She shook her head. "I need a little more time before I have to face Laura Shipkins."
"Okay." He stood, waiting.
"Alone," she said, not rudely or abruptly, but pointedly all the same.
"Oh!" He flushed. "Right, well, I'll just...go. You know."
He began to walk in the direction of the common room when she called out to him. "Alfie?"
"Yes, Bella?"
"Thank you."
It was a cold night, not unusual for Scotland at that time of the year, and yet he felt a deep-seated warmth fill his body, radiating from his core to his peripheries. His mouth curved upwards in a small smile that was almost invisible in the low light. "Anytime."
Alfie Hayes had never been in love, but at that very moment, he thought he was.
In truth, though his love for Bella Watson was undeniably present, it was similar to the love that Ella had for her favourite authors, that Teddy had for his favourite singers. He did not realize it, but to him, Bella Watson wasn't as much an actual flesh-and-blood person with flaws and weaknesses as she was an ideal.
Alfie Hayes thought he was in love, but really, he wasn't.
(But try telling him that).
.oOo.
VII. Confessional
Ella Anderson sat alone in her dormitory, reading a letter from home.
It had arrived earlier that morning, but she had saved it, waiting anxiously for the moment when she was able to slip away from dinner early and hide away in her dormitory. She didn't like reading her mail in front of people, for she always felt self-conscious. Humans were, after all, naturally curious beings. When with others, she felt as if had no privacy because they were watching her, trying to figure out what was going on with her, what she was all about. And she hated it. Some things needed to remain private.
The letter was from her brother. In many ways, it was like every letter that he wrote. He went on about his friends, his schoolwork and their parents in a nonchalant, somewhat uncaring way, but Ella could read between the lines. She could see the effort that he had put into carefully modulating his tone, she could tell that he'd chosen each word with care.
She could tell that Ashton had been more shaken by the dark mark on their front door than he would admit to her. And she hated it. She hated that she couldn't be there to comfort him, because she was everything he wasn't. She hated that she was the one with magic, while he, who wanted it so badly, was confined to the muggle world.
Ella loved magic with all her heart, and yet she would have given it all up in a split second if it meant that she could keep her brother safe and happy.
Tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. Biting her lip, she folded the letter up, and held it in her hands. There was still over a month before she would see her brother and her parents again, and she missed them terribly. Ella had always been an independent sort of person, but in the face of imminent danger, homesickness overwhelmed her.
She, too, had been more affected by the incident with the dark mark than she let on. It was the twenty-eighth of October, two weeks after she had been called into McGonagall's office, and yet she still hadn't recovered. Ella Anderson rarely let people see her emotions (after all, some things needed to remain private), and even when she did, she always attempted to downplay them. Emotions were, in some ways, weaknesses; they were weapons that could be used against you.
Her family was a weapon that could be used against her.
Her family was a target.
She bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood, but was unable to stop the tears. They flowed freely her cheeks as she wept in silent anguish.
"Ella?"
She looked up and was horrified to see Leonardo Torricelli standing by the door. Quickly, she wiped her face with the backs of her hands and forced herself to smile at him.
He wasn't falling for it. "Ella, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she lied quickly. "I'm fine. Just...not feeling well."
"You left early from dinner," he said awkwardly, coming to sit next to her on her bed. "I was worried, so Becca gave me this." He held up a tiny silver key that Ella recognised instantly. It was an object unique to Ravenclaws- each and every one of them had one that they could give to someone to allow them temporary access to their dormitory, regardless of gender. "It's a good thing I did."
"I'm fine, Leo, really, I am."
"No you're not," he said softly. Ella didn't make eye contact. "Ella, it's fine to be upset. You've been through a hell of a time lately, what with what happened in London. It's so horrible, your family being targeted like that, especially since you're not even muggleborn. I mean, it's so random."
He broke off, for Ella had burst into tears again.
"Ella," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to his chest. "Ella, what did I say? Whatever it was, I'm sorry."
She mumbled something inaudible.
"Ella?"
"I said it's not random," she choked between sobs. "It wasn't random at all."
Leonardo looked at her, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, love, but I'm confused."
"It wasn't random," she repeated.
"But you're not-"
"No, but I might as well be!" She took a deep breath, and then said, "My mum's a squib, Leo. So's my brother. And … and … he shouldn't be. I should be. I'd be happy in the muggle world, but he isn't. All he wanted - all he wants - is magic, and here I am with it and it's putting them all in danger!"
Leonardo was silent for a moment, before he said, "Does anyone else know?"
Ella nodded. "Teddy and Alfie. No one else."
He hesitated, and Ella felt a shot of fear run through her. Would he think less of her now that he knew the truth?
"I don't know what to say," he admitted at last. "It wasn't your fault, Ella. None of this is your fault."
"But I have magic and he doesn't!" Ella said, disregarding the fact that she was not being logical at all.
"Yes," Leonardo said calmly, "but… listen. My mum says that everything happens for a reason. Everything. From births to deaths to every little moment in between. If your brother isn't magical, it might be because he's destined to do great things in the muggle world. If you're magical, it might be because you're destined to do great things in our world. What those things are, I don't know, but I do know that you're one of the most amazing, intelligent, beautiful and kind witches that I've ever met, and that without you, the wizarding world would not be the same."
Ella stared at him, dumbfounded. She knew (though she did not want to admit it) that he was exaggerating - she most certainly was not as beautiful as people like Becca Dillion or Bella Watson, she wasn't as naturally intelligent as Teddy, nor was she as kind as Matilda Goshawk. She most certainly was not the kind of person that the wizarding world could not do without, for she had contributed nothing of significance to it. But at times like this, it was nice to hear that someone had faith in her.
"I love you," she said, without thinking.
Leonardo smiled at her and pulled her closer. "It's all going to be okay," he said. "I promise."
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's definitely one of my favourites so far. Apologies for the lack of Riley and Victoire - there was a Riley scene that was supposed to go into this chapter, but had to be shifted into the next because of length, so do not fret!
I'd love to know what your favourite scene in this is (I have a soft spot for the first scene with Ashton and the scene with Matilda)!
As usual, there'll be an update in two weeks (Wednesday 7th September), so see you then!