Chapter 1
"Genevieve Moreau Kai!"
Genevieve's eyes brightened up as she recognised the familiar voice. Oh how much she's missed him over the 3 long months of summer. She turned around with a smile on her face. She searched for the source of the voice in the swarm of different coloured heads. She soon spotted a long arm waving at her above his signature platinum blond hair. He was closer to where she had come from, by the brick wall that led to the muggle platforms of King's Cross. Against the tide of underclass students hurrying to board the train, she manoeuvred her way back to Abraxas Malfoy.
"How was the Alps? I hope you took pict-..." Genevieve trailed off as she slowed down. She was about to reach to hug him when she noticed, her eyes narrowing incredulously. "Have you-," she looked up and down at the slender boy in his silk navy suit. "Have you grown taller?" Genevieve knew that was an understatement. He was definitely not the boy she remembered from a few months ago. Abraxas Malfoy, at least in her memory, was and has always been shorter than her. He always wore a dimple on his right cheek and smiled bashfully up at her. There was a hint of innocent boyhood as he often sported suspenders with shorts. This Abraxas that stood in front of her, however, has grown more than a few inches above her. It seemed like he lost a bit of weight as well seeing his pronounced jawline.
"Yeah I did," Abraxas smiled down, yes, down, at her. But there was still that bashful smile, Genevieve noticed with fondness.
"Here," Abraxas, always being the gentleman that he was, took on her single leather suitcase.
"Thanks," Genevieve beamed up at him. She still had to get used to that height difference. "So, how was the Alps?"
"Oh loads of fun." Abraxas widened his eyes. It must have been really fun then. "You should join us next summer." Genevieve absentmindedly nodded, pondering whether a ski set, nay, a single useless snow blade was something that she would be able to afford. She mused whether she would be able to ski down a hill on her right leg like a speeding flamingo.
"And I did take pictures. I'll show you guys in the tram." Abraxas casually held out his hand for her as she climbed onto the train. He shook his head when she thanked him.
"How's your family?" Genevieve peered into compartments to look for the other Slytherins as she made her way down the hall, briefly standing to the side to let the giggling excited second years pass in the narrow corridor.
"Ah, the same old. Quite pleased about a new house they bought in New York City." Abraxas nodded at the empty compartment on his left. "Let's take this one. They're always late anyway."
Genevieve and Abraxas shuffled in. As always, the compartment looked too large for how thin the locomotive looked from the outside. She always suspected they were enlarged with magic.
'I wonder if they've visited anywhere near where "Saboteur" was shot,' Genevieve thought back to the film that featured the city that never sleeps, which she saw a few years back in the cinema. She realised she didn't know much about the foreign land of New York City except what was featured in the Hollywood glamour. Genevieve settled down by the window and flattened her skirt as she watched Abraxas store away her luggage easily above her head. She mumbled her thanks.
"You know Genevieve," Abraxas shook his head, and even from below she was able to see the exasperated look he fashioned on his raised brows. Abraxas sat himself across from her. "You don't have to thank me every time. I'm simply doing what every man should be doing for a graceful mademoiselle like you." Genevieve hoped she hid her faint surprise as she blinked a few times. She was definitely not used to this after spending three months at the orphanage. Had it been a stranger, they would have interpreted Abraxas' comment as a snarky Slytherin sarcasm. But she knew that Abraxas meant every word, as always. It was just Abraxas being Abraxas: extremely polite. Maybe it was the French in him.
"A drama queen, as always," she mumbled, stealing a glance at Abraxas almost as if to check if she's offended him.
"Ah, now there's the Genevieve we all know and love," Abraxas beamed and chuckled. But, soon the chuckle faded from his playful lips, tilting his head. "It always made me curious how you seem a lot more quiet when we come back from summer. You're like a completely different person."
Well, how could she answer that question? Oh you know, it's just a side effect of living in a cramped orphanage where you are always hungry and cold. No, Abraxas, an aristocrat, would never understand.
She was just about to joke 'it's the London air' when Canopus Lestrange and Alphard Black bursted in through the sliding doors.
"There you two are!" Canopus huffed in frustration as he shuffled in, struggling and quite frankly, failing to fit his large suitcase through the door without banging it everywhere. "You just had to sit at the very end of the train, huh," he growled.
"Late as always, Lestrange?" Genevieve smirked. She thought she did a rather good job of switching from a sombre topic. She saw Abraxas lean out of the way of Lestrange throwing his expensive yet tattered suitcase above him.
Genevieve did not miss Abraxas mumble darkly, "Wouldn't have expected anything better in our last year."
"Fashionably late, Kai," Canopus imitated Genevieve and winked down at her. Abraxas turned away to roll his eyes. "There's a difference."
"I rather think that's very Slytherin of us," Alphard joined in with a smug look.
"Gotta stay on brand even for our last year."
For the rest of the trip to Hogwarts, they chatted and laughed. Abraxas showed them several of his moving photos on their trip across the European Alps. His perfect white teeth shone brightly as he and other wizards, presumably his cousins, smiled at the camera and waved their ski poles in the air. Behind them, the steep snowy mountains reflected the sun.
When they had gotten up to get off at Hogsmeade, all holding their respective jackets and suitcases, Genevieve was certain she heard Canopus mumble, "hang on, did you grow?"
Abraxas was now definitely an inch taller than Canopus. When Abraxas nodded silently, not making a fuss about it, Canopus exaggeratedly narrowed his eyes, looking up and down at him.
"How dare you," he hissed.
"I say," Genevieve raised her head at Canopus. Canoups was eyeing at the mess in her hands. With their belly full of butterbeer and pudding, they lay in front of the fireplace back in the Slytherin common room, waiting until their stomachs were done digesting.
"I say we're a bad influence on you, Gev." Genevieve looked down at the sweater assignment she was attempting on her lap. The knitting needles, for some reason, 5 of them, were jabbed into the sweater. The sweater had missed stitches all over that resulted in holes, taking a resemblance of mouldy swiss cheese. The needles were twitching and trembling pathetically like it lost its will to live on.
Genevieve was absolutely disheartened, nay, disgusted to learn that Housekeeping was a mandatory class for 7th year girls. Even more disgusted, when she found out that she had to complete a sweater and a scarf over the summer. "It's just a flick of the wand," Professor Poltish said. "It'll only take a few hours," she said. If only she knew about Genevieve's abysmal excuse for housekeeping skills.
She was so disgusted that, in fact, she continued to complain about it throughout last semester whenever she found a chance or a person willing to listen to her. "They don't expect anything better from us other than to get married, have kids, and to become a housekeeping servant," she always concluded bitterly. "But they're all important and useful skills to have as an adult," just once, Alphard timidly braved the terrifying glare Genevieve was shooting at the back of the Professor Poltish's head who happened to be walking a few metres in front of them. He flinched when the glare was redirected to him as she responded coolly, "I don't see you taking the class." Alphard's response was a sturgeon expression with a nod of 'point taken'.
And here she was. Technically the last night of summer break before the classes began, with only a mouldy swiss cheese and a cat hairball called an attempt at a scarf to show for it. Genevieve raised her brows, shrugging, "Better than my last one."
"This, is better?" Canopus swerved his hands as if to point out, 'whatever this is.'
Genevieve scowled. If Canopus wasn't so irritatingly loveable, she fancied the idea of shoving the sweater down his throat. "I'd like to see you try." She huffed, picturing Canopus coughing up the sweater. "You wouldn't be able to cough up anything better had I turned you into a cat," she added.
Al hollered, and dug into his sketchbook after fiercely dipping his quill in the ink pot. Canopus' ears turned pink and crossed his arms in a huff. "Well good thing I won't be needing a husband."
Genevieve rolled her eyes at Canopus. "I'll be finding my own way of making a living, thank you very much."
Canopus' jaw dropped, perhaps more so than when he found out he had somehow passed the OWL last year. "You're joking."
Genevieve paused and stared at Canopus incredulously. At this point, Canopus had known her for 4 long years. Surely he didn't perceive her to be a housewife material. "No Canopus, you have to be joking."
"Honestly Les, did you expect her to be the marrying type?" Abraxas chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. Genevieve agreed.
"But-... Sure, I mean, but-," Canopus seemed to be struggling with the plausibility of the idea. Canopus shot her a pitying look that screamed 'you do realise how difficult your life will be.' But in the end, he wisely chose not to comment on her decision and instead said, "Well… don't forget to come to me if you need anything." Genevieve understood that by 'anything,' Canopus really meant any political or financial support that any unmarried woman would struggle with, rather than, say emotional support. Genevieve had to admit empathy was not the strongest suit of the eldest Lestrange.
"Thanks," Genevieve smiled. "I'd like to think I'm an excellent juggler, enough to support myself." Al's laughter echoed through the common room. Genevieve also had to keep herself from bursting into laughter at an image of herself as a street performer. There goes seven years of top notch education at Hogwarts down the drain… Genevieve absentmindedly waved back at Druella Rosier who just walked by and smiled at her. But perhaps, she was more interested in the casual wink Canopus had thrown her way. She giggled and walked away.
"Yeah good luck with that," the said sybarite rolled his eyes and threw her a snake embroidered couch cushion that he was toying with. Before she had enough time to prepare for the attack, still curious whether there might be new developments between the girl and Canopus, Genevieve was hit in the back with the cushion.
"There!" Al's hands zoomed into her view as the cushion dropped on her lap. He was holding out his sketchbook that she had given him as his birthday present last year, showing a sketch of a cat coughing up her poor excuse of a sweater. The cat comically resembled Canopus with his curly black hair and teasing set of eyes, but came with a set of whiskers and a tail. Alphard looked extremely proud showing his sketch.
Genevieve cackled, "Yes! Yes, this is exactly what I was picturing!"
"I can make that even better," from the corner of her eyes she spotted Abraxas pull out his wand from the inner pocket of his Slytherin blazer. He swished the wand at the page, his eyes twinkling. The sketched cat came to life, complete with the sound effect that resembled a house elf wheezing. Genevieve glanced at Canopus, who was trying his absolute best to keep on a scorn, but failed as his lips quirked upwards.
"Last year, huh…" Abraxas breathed out.
Genevieve raised her head from her upcoming Potions' textbook to crane her neck up at Abraxas who was surveying the high ceilings of the Slytherin common room with a fond expression. It was past midnight and the excited conversations of students had long died down. Canopus and Alphard had gone off to the kitchen to smuggle some late night snacks a while ago and without them, the common room was left to polite late night murmurs and whispers of few students who were still awake. Genevieve had slid down onto the floor from her initial position on the couch. The embroidered cushion Canopus had thrown at her earlier was placed between her back and the foot of the couch. The green fire in front of them flickered and shadow danced side to side on Abraxas' face. With the lighting, the Slytherin common room had the effect of making nearly everyone look like a ghost.
"You sure you aren't gonna cry?" Genevieve smirked. She was, of course, referring to the very reason they became friends in their first year when she found Abraxas Malfoy, a small blond rich boy, crying alone in the corner of the Slytherin common room on their first night at Hogwarts. It was after everyone had gone to sleep and after the excitement of the great feast, typically when realisation of being away from home set in with the silence.
She still remembered it like it was yesterday. She was about to ignore the boy and continue with her first midnight exploration around the castle, when the quiet sob stopped in her tracks. She was curious enough to U-turn and slowly sit next to him. Abraxas told her about how this never happened and that he was 'just a tad bit homesick'. Genevieve, having grown up in an orphanage, couldn't understand how he could miss home, but she did understand that he was embarrassed about crying in front of a girl. Genevieve explained to him how she's never felt this full, this warm and comfortable, and this excited. Sure, it was a new place, but it was now up to her to make Hogwarts into whatever she wanted it to be. Abraxas sobbed even more when she talked about how happy she was to be at Hogwarts. Sensing she's done it all wrong, she instead asked him what he missed from his home. He talked about his pet, a white ferret named Draco and how he loved him even if the deviant ferret destroyed and left a bite mark on every one of his possessions. And once he got started, he couldn't stop talking. He talked about his silk bed sheets, cookies and warm milk that the servant brought to him every night, and zooming across the rivers, apple orchards, and sheep farms that they owned on his favourite broomstick. Genevieve shook her head in disbelief; she's never met such a spoiled boy. She's heard about rich kids in movies, but she didn't expect their lives to be this elegant.
"You're gonna have something better than all of those combined," Genevieve remembered those words verbatim. Abraxas raised his tear-stained, puffy eyes at her questioningly. "Friends like me," Genevieve said. She didn't even smile back then. Genevieve cringed at how cold hearted she seemed. But then again, she was an awkward kid never good at first impressions, so this was probably the best she could have done back then.
"Now, are you coming with me to explore this castle?" Abraxas wiped his tears away on his beautifully embroidered handkerchief that was stored inside his inner pocket, and blinked a few times staring at Genevieve's outstretched hand.
He nodded, and took her hand, involuntarily sealing the future of their friendship, along with the other Slytherins like Canopus Lestrange and Alphard Avery.
"You are never going to let me forget, are you?" Abraxas narrowed his eyes at her teasing remark.
"As long as the fact remains that that's how we became friends, no." His eyes softened as soon as she replied with a grin.
But, as soon as the soft smile appeared on his lips, it disappeared. A cloud of worry seemed to cast a shadow over his face and his eyes carefully observed her features.
His brows furrowed and asked in a hushed voice. "Are you doing okay?" Of course, he was talking about the attacks against the muggleborns that were becoming more frequent as Grindelwald's war continued.
"Of course," her voice came out more hoarse and high-pitched than she'd have liked. But she smiled nonetheless. "The channel separates us from the continent," she stated the obvious. Thank God, she was born on an island, or else, the war would have spread further and sooner. But deep in her heart, she knew that it wasn't really Grindelwald and his continental men that she was worried about. She thought she sensed something different when she walked into the Great Hall that night. Perhaps there was no such thing as geographical borders when it came to a war of philosophies. No, not even the English channel could protect them from elitist ideologies. Last year's attacks were a cruel evidence to that fact when the half-giant kid went on a killing spree of muggleborns. Last year, it seemed like he was the only pureblood suprematist, crazy enough to resolve to violence. But, only after three short months, the air had taken on even more tension between the students, the professors, everyone; as if the ideological sickness never left with Rubeus Hagrid, but even spread and took a deeper root within the school. She had a feeling that Hogwarts was not quite going to be the same home she's always found it to be: not for the next school year, hell, maybe even for decades to come.
Afraid that Abraxas could easily read her concern, she pretended that she was suddenly interested in the giant squid that passed by the high ceiling window and turned her head away. Abraxas didn't question her anymore. In truth, he probably knew exactly what was going on in her mind since the worry never left his eyes. But, he simply nodded.
She thought for a second that maybe he was about to place his large but soft hand on her shoulder. It seemed like his right hand stirred towards her, but perhaps she was imagining it. Instead, his hand reached in the opposite direction and reached for the now salvaged sweater that had been knitting itself on the couch opposite to him.
"I think this is done," Abraxas quietly mumbled and handed her the sweater.
"Wow," Genevieve delicately took the sweater in her two hands. "This looks like it was made by a professional, Abraxas." Thank God she found that her best friend was unexpectedly, not only talented with, but enjoyed housework. "You're truly a lifesaver!"
Abraxas only sheepishly smiled.
Genevieve plopped down on the seat next to Abraxas and dropped her bag on the floor. "Thank Christ, finally some action," she breathed out.
Abraxas raised his eyebrows sympathetically, "You really didn't like the class?"
"Oh please, even Binns is better than that class." She thought of the infamous professor that always lulled her to sleep like a broken record.
The first Homemaking class was catastrophic, if she dared to put it kindly. The first class always took some time for the introduction of the class, the syllabus of the year, perhaps a review of previous materials. But Genevieve stifled a groan when her eyes skimmed through the contents of the class: sewing, baking, cooking, cleaning, pregnancy, parenting…
It was needless to say that Professor Poltish was slightly disappointed in what she had to produce by the end of that class. To her, it was a mystery how it was that Genevieve brought in a perfectly knitted sweater for her summer homework, but during class, she managed to set the pair of her baby socks on fire.
Of course, Genevieve insisted that the fire was an accident.
Compared to Homemaking, a class that not only allowed, but encouraged the usage of Incendio, was a significant relief for Genevieve. The Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts class, more commonly known as Part, was strictly limited to boys until a few years ago. Typically in their 7th year, the girls were put in Theoretical DADA, Tart, only to learn the mechanisms of the defensive spells and the tactical theories of a duel. At most, the spell they casted was Petrificus Totalus. Part, well, that was where all the excitement happened. With the intention of teaching young boys to protect their wives and kids, they were taught how to defend not only themselves but others against the forbidden curses, and how to play dirty if it meant ensuring survival.
With the coming of war against Grindelwald, there was finally a movement to allow willing girls to learn how to duel. But, with the lack of tension around the war in the UK, and the stigma towards women who dare challenge the norm, it was no surprise that barely any girls signed up for Part every year.
Which was why Genevieve was surprised to find another girl in the practical class. Naturally, she gravitated towards her in the classroom filled with rowdy boys. She weaved her way across to her. The girl had a tightly woven braid that went down to just below her shoulder, so tight that it seemed like her hazelnut eyes were pulled up.
"McGonagall, right?" she smiled and held out her hand. Perhaps though, like any Slytherin, what she thought to be a smile always came across as a smirk. As if to corroborate her suspicion, McGonagall narrowed her eyes at her outstretched hand warily.
She seemed vaguely surprised that Genevieve approached her. After a moment of consideration, "Minerva McGonagall," she nodded and reciprocated the gesture. Her handshake was firm, in a strict and two-beat up then down. She was observing Genevieve, "I thought I'd be the only girl." Genevieve noticed that McGonagall always had pursed lips. She wasn't sure if she was always wary of strangers, or if this was simply her natural response to a Slytherin uniform approaching her.
Genevieve nodded, "Me too, to be honest." Eyeing Professor Merrythought walking to the middle of the classroom, which seemed a lot bigger now that the desks were cleared out, Genevieve took a few steps back to make space.
"Now, let's put that theory to the test, shall we?" Professor Merrythought rolled up her sleeves and put her fists on her hips. Her voice was a lot louder than she expected a woman her age to be.
As the professor started to show them the wand movement, Genevieve leaned over to McGonagall and muttered. "But us girls, we've got to stick together, don't we?" She winked with a smirk that she thought uncannily resembled Lestrange, and out of the corner of her eyes, she thought she saw McGonagall's eyes soften a bit. She decided she liked Minerva McGonagall after all, as well as Professor Merrythought.
With weight on her right feet, Professor Merrythought's feet were spread apart languidly. She noticed that in a society that told girls to take up as little space as possible, Professor Merrythought was not afraid to claim her space. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Professor Merrythought's raised voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Get to spell casting!" The bewildered students scattered evenly across the classroom, each pairing off.
At McGonagall's unspoken question as she cocked her head, Genevieve nodded.
"Wanna go first?" Genevieve backed a few steps away from her, brandishing her wand from her skirt pocket.
"Why not," McGonagall mirrored her.
She pondered for a moment to go through the list of charms and curses in her memory.
"Oculis Distortis!" she shouted and twirled her wand in the shape of an infinity sign. It was a rather simple spell, but an effective one. The spell caused a pressure on the cornea to distort it, creating an effect similar to extreme astigmatism. It was harmless in itself, but disorienting in settings such as a duel. It was an easy spell that anyone could cast, if they had the chance of finding it in "Mechanism of the Body and Mind, The."
As the spell shot towards McGonagall, she quickly twitched her hand to draw a diamond in the air, muttering 'protego'. A green luminescent but translucent wall appeared in front of her, undulating and glowing in sync with her pulse. Genevieve's spell bounced off of the wall with a zap, hitting the blackboard instead.
"What was that?" McGonagall looked back at her in fascination. McGonagall pondered, her eyes clouding as if she was flipping through an invisible book in the air. "Distorted… eyes?" Genevieve was impressed by the translation from Latin that came to her easily.
"Yeah," she nodded and shouted loud enough for her to hear among the ambience of laughter, the sound of spells, and rustling of the chairs and desks as students bumped into them. "I found it in 'Mechanism of the Body and Mind, The'!"
Genevieve's lips quirked up smugly as she spotted a hint of impressed amusement in McGonagall's eyes. She steadied her feet to prepare for whatever interesting spell McGonagall was probably going to shoot her way.
Genevieve's eyes shot up when McGonagall made a sudden movement; the spell travelled faster than any other spell she's seen. Before she had the time to cast any defensive spells, the spell hit her square in the chest. Suddenly, her head bloated up to the size five times her original size like a balloon. Genevieve stumbled, struggling to balance her head that was suddenly so heavy. In the end, she tripped on her feet, and fell flat on her bottom. When her brain processed what had just happened, she chuckled, shaking her head. She certainly underestimated McGonagall.
"That was good," Genevieve looked up at McGonagall who was approaching her with pursed lips, but obviously trying to contain herself from bursting into laughter.
"Found it in 'Bogey Hexes to Ward Off Men, The'" McGonagall smirked and mimicked her. Genevieve chuckled. She knew that whatever this title McGonagall came up with was definitely not in Hogwarts library. But, she appreciated her sense of humour nonetheless. McGonagall reached her hand down to pull her up, seeing Genevieve's head shrinking every second in intrigue. With a smile, Genevieve took the hand and hoisted herself up. After a class only concerned with making the tastiest dessert for husbands, this, the class and Minerva McGonagall, was turning out to be a nice change.
"Wanna try that again?"
"Yeah," Genevieve brushed the dust off of her skirt and readied herself again. "Shoot me with the same spell," she twirled her wand, her gaze focusing on the tip of McGonagall's wand.
McGonagall stretched her neck in both directions, "if you say so." She quickly twirled her wand and shot the spell. Her incantation was barely audible, and Genevieve took note to whisper any spells during a duel in the future.
Genevieve was caught off again by how fast the spell travelled towards her. But she was ready this time. She whispered a quick 'protego' to herself. She smiled to herself as her reliable wand produced the green wall in front of her, radiating energy like it was alive. It was truly empowering, knowing that this quietly powerful green wall was going to protect her from whatever came her way in the future, and she was the one who created it with her own mind. She noticed with intrigue as McGonagall's spell evaporated upon contact with her spell with a small zap, as if it was consumed by the wall.
McGonagall and Genevieve continued to take turns, a smile growing by each spell on both of them as the excitement of the duel grew. The smile faded from her face, however, when the Professor's clap of hands echoed across the room, twice.
"Now that you got to practise a few times, let's see if we can use that in an actual duel." The students gathered around her again. Genevieve gladly shook the hand that McGonagall offered to her, now complete with a smile, as their duel came to an end. "Obviously, in an actual duel, your opponent would never be willing to wait for you. Duels are quick. You always have to be on your feet. You need to read your opponent so that you can choose wisely between defence and offence."
Professor Merrythought seemed to notice the handshake that Genevieve and McGonagall exchanged. "Ms. McGonagall!"
McGonagall gasped and dropped Genevieve's hand, facing the professor. Timidly, she looked up at the authoritative professor like a small girl who was just about to get scolded.
"How about you pair up with Mr. Prewett over here," Professor Merrythought gestured to the open space in the middle of the class, "and show us what you two have practised?"
Genevieve patted on McGonagall's shoulder as she hesitantly stepped forward. McGonagall was like a completely different person when she stood in front of the whole class. Any trace of confidence left her shoulders as she physically looked smaller. It was like she was still unsure if she deserved to be in this class. The professor was beaming at McGonagall as she positioned herself across Prewett a few feet away from him.
The duel started quite suddenly when Prewett shot his first spell at her, a simple Experlliarmus. The green shield appeared in front of McGonagall, barely putting it up in time as she was caught off guard. Prewett seemed to take that advantage, and smirked as he shot a Stupefy at
her. Genevieve noticed a change in McGonagall's expression as her nostrils flared up and pursed her lips even thinner. She picked up the pace and took the moment of Prewett lowering his wand from the spell to shoot one, two, three spells at him. Prewett staggered backwards, visibly shocked by a fiery confidence that caught aflame in her. McGonagall was shooting her spells nonstop with every step she took forward. Prewett was getting cornered, too busy to deflect the spell.
Genevieve spotted Professor Merrythought proudly staring at McGonagall, quite impressed with her skills. It was a good duel. A very good one.
In one last desperate attempt, Prewett twirled his hand and muttered. Genevieve gasped as she read his lips. She recognised the wand movement. It seemed that McGonagall also read his lips muttering 'levicorpus.' She looked at Mcgonagall and herself, the only two that were wearing skirts in the class that sported pants. The others were oblivious to what was about to happen, too busy intently studying the duel. Of course. Of course this would be one of the spells shot at her.
Professor Merrythought also detected Prewett's intent, and took her wand out of her hair bun. But McGonagall reacted quickly enough, and produced the protego wall again. With the spell successfully deflected, she threw one last Stupefy at Prewett. He went flying off and landed on the floor unconscious with a thud. McGonagall twirled her wand away and huffed the strand of hair that had fallen into her face. She was magnificent.
The classroom erupted in applause, and Genevieve joined in, smiling at her and attempting to clap as loud as she could.
"You were brilliant out there," Genevieve patted her back when McGonagall came jogging back next to her.
"Thanks," McGonagall beamed at her. She was still huffing as adrenaline coursed through her veins, sweat beading on her forehead.
"We're coming to this class in pants next time," Genevieve whispered, which warranted her friend a surprised, yet convinced nod as she turned to look at her.
She will never forget the look of confused surprise on Prewett when he was woken up by the professor, taking in his defeat. Genevieve smirked when a look of shame soon replaced the surprise as he looked at the tapping foot and the angry frown of Professor Merrythought, and understood how much trouble he was in.
"Woah, Gev," it was Dorea Black that spun on her heels to get out of her way, nearly dropping her books. Her docile, mellow character moved out of the way barely in time. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"So sorry, Dorea!" Genevieve looked back at her. "I'm late to meet Dippet." She hopped out of the way of fifth years filing into the common room, and slipped out of the dungeon door.
Genevieve's Kerrybrooke flats pitter pattered against the cool stone floor as she ran up the stairs. She heaved a sigh, relieved that she switched from her worn-out Mary Jane heels, which was impossible to run in against the uneven stone floorings of Hogwarts corridors.
What on earth did Dippet want with her anyway? It was an owl that she received during lunch that day, a dark blue owl swooping down to her to drop a message from Dippet. As opposed to the owls that usually arrived as a herd during breakfast, the lonesome owl flying off was a bizarre sight. It was not even a letter. It was a simple card with minimal information asking her to come to his office at 9pm that day 'due to an urgent matter,' it said. Thinking back to it, she mused that the overgrown feathers around the owl's beak resembled Dippet's long beard. You know what they say, pets come to resemble their humans, or the other way around.
She had to admit, the idea of the headmaster's office did not particularly excite her, she thought as a queasy feeling started to take place in her stomach. It was like her stomach was dropping lower as she went up the stone gryphon elevator up to the headmaster's office. The very few times she was there had always been due to some boys that Genevieve had punched, kicked, or bit. The last time she had visited was back in her third year, she recalled.
She hesitated, and knocked twice. "Enter," it was a grandiose enunciation, as if it was a waste of his energy to utter another single word. Quietly, Genevieve opened the door.
Her brows couldn't help but shoot up when she spotted Tom Riddle standing next to her open seat, across the table from Dippet. He was facing the front but had craned his neck to spot her, frozen at the doorway. Dippet and Riddle's combined stares created a certain atmosphere that was impossible to intrude on. She checked her watch. 21:00 and 38 seconds. She was technically on time, but Riddle's stare made her feel like she was an hour late.
"Please, come in," Dippet motioned for her, irritation seeping into his voice by her hesitation.
Quietly, she walked across the room, and stood next to Riddle. The office hadn't changed much since she was last there. The office was bare bones with only the bare necessities: shelves, a desk, a quill and an ink pot, and the bearded owl sleeping quietly in the corner. But, this time, she couldn't help but notice the stacks upon stacks of papers everywhere. There were incoming piles named 'Parents' and 'Board of Governors' but barely any in the 'Outgoing' folder. She had a suspicion that Dippet has been bombarded with letters of complaints since the muggleborn attacks last year.
"Now that Ms. Moreau's here, please, do sit down," Dippet gestured to the open seats in a grandiose manner.
Riddle was quick to take up on that offer. Without making a single sound, he pulled the chair and sat down, expectantly looking at Dippet to finally start the meeting. But, Dippet did not think so. Instead, he was looking over his spectacles at Riddle, waiting.
Riddle sighed heavily, quickly disguising the roll of his eyes as a lazy gliding of his eyes across Dippet's office. He languidly stood up and pulled a chair out for Genevieve. Genevieve took a hesitant step to sit in the chair, but Genevieve soon looked up behind her to find Riddle glaring at Dippet. The deep voice did not even try to hide the annoyance behind the polite words, "May we move on with the meeting, sir?"
"Very well then," Dippet folded his hands in front of him as he settled down at his desk, "I appreciate you two coming at the last minute."
"As you may have noticed about Flume, she had to leave Hogwarts for the foreseeable future." Dippet cleared his throat as Genevieve narrowed her eyes. She supposed she hadn't seen the Ravenclaw Head Girl in a few days, but she was from a different house in a rather big school. She hadn't thought anything of it.
"And as you may notice, we cannot do with an open position for the Head Girl. The task is simply too big for one person," Dippet glanced at Riddle, "even if that person may be Mr. Riddle." Genevieve joined the glance. His expression remained blank; it caught her off guard that he wasn't like Abraxas who would have at least tried to look humbled.
"With what's going on in our society," Dippet continued, vaguely waving his hand that seemed to demonstrate the letters scattered about the room complaining about the safety of students, "we need strong leadership from the professors, myself, and the students as well." Genevieve got a sense that Dippet was truly fed up with everything- the letters, the rumours, the war.
"Since you have demonstrated strong competencies in academics, actually 2nd in place after Mr. Riddle, we are choosing you as the interim Head Girl," Dippet concluded. Genevieve noted that it wasn't a question. Genevieve risked a glance at Riddle again. He remained completely expressionless. Was he already told about this?
"But, Dip-" Genevieve mentally kicked herself in the shin, and she was certain that she caught Riddle rolling his eyes at her. "But, Headmaster Dippet. Surely, there are people more fit for this position?" Really, she meant there must be other students who had better past reputations with the school rules more than she did. After all, wasn't that what the Head Girl's work was about? Maintaining the order?
"Yes. Actually, your academic competency surpasses that of Ms. Ariana Flume somehow," Dippet seemed to emphasise the last word to himself. "We merely hesitated due to your… erm, unruly behaviour in your first few years." Genevieve thought back to the victorious moment when she, aged 12, was straddling Cygnus Black and relentlessly punching him in the face. Her roar then would have made any lion proud to welcome her into Gryffindor house. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of black eye she had given to Black.
"So, with Ms. Flume gone," Dippet interrupted her thought, his eyes widened cautiously, clearly alarmed by her smirk at his mention of her fights. "We have no choice," he emphasised 'no choice', "but to select you as the next Head Girl."
"Headmaster," it was Riddle's cool and collected voice. "What exactly happened to Ms. Flume?"
Dippet visibly shifted in his chair. It was obviously information he was uncomfortable sharing with students. "Her family was brutally murdered a few days ago. They were a known wizarding family for helping muggleborns flee from Europe and the UK to Americas," Dippet whispered. "Ms. Flume received the news by letter, and she had to return to her residence in Aberdeen."
Genevieve's jaw dropped. Aberdeen? But that was not too far from here! She knew this was bound to happen at some point, but there has always been a sense of false security, like these were all horrible things happening in the distant land far across the ocean to nameless people done by faceless people. But, here they were. The real tragedy that fell upon her real classmate, falling out of Dippet's mouth like heavy stones.
Genevieve's voice slightly shook, "My condolences to Ms. Flume and her family."
"I'm sure that you can update her on the job description, Mr. Riddle. And I'd like to maintain this personal matter between you two," Dippet gravely added. "Just try not to scare the prefects when you explain the changes." He weakly added, "I am certain you and Mr. Riddle will be able to come up with something."
On the far back end of the headmaster's office, the grandfather clock gonged to signal an hour had passed, as if to mourn the loss of another student affected by the war.
"You're what?!" It was Canopus that exclaimed simultaneously with Abraxas' "I'm sorry?" Canopus was leaning against one of the poles of Dorea's four-poster bed with his arms and legs crossed.
"Yeah," Genevieve shrugged, flicking her wand. Her sweaters danced out of her drawers and folded themselves into her trunk. They were standing surrounding Genevieve's bed as she packed away her things. "Apparently I'm starting tomorrow."
"So that's why I haven't been seeing her these days," Alphard mumbled, who was standing by the window, observing the seaweed dancing in the last sunshine of the day from above.
"...You've noticed?" Genevieve raised her brows at him. It was rare, but when Al impressed her, he really was ingenious.
"Yeah," he turned around to face her, a serious look on his usual playful face, "since last Thursday." Genevieve hummed. It seemed like she had to add impeccable memory to his list of skills. "Did Dippet tell you what happened?"
Genevieve shook her head, "I'm not allowed to say." She waved at the books, both muggle and wizard authors, on the shelves. It seemed like she had just finished unpacking after her long bout of procrastination, but there they went, flying back into her trunk that she pulled out from underneath the bed.
Canopus did not miss Abraxas shifting his weight on her bed and suddenly taking an interest in his fingernails, a subconscious habit that Abraxas always resulted in when he was unsure of saying something. Canopus raised an eyebrow, "What, you know something?"
"Well," Abraxas noticed everyone's attention on him, and dropped his hands. "I know that they were part of an underground project to help with muggleborns' refuge to America. You connect the dots from there." Genevieve wondered how or where on earth he came across information like that. Perhaps his parents were more politically involved than she expected.
"Gev…" Abraxas' voice was barely audible. His concerned eyes were carefully searching for any trace of emotions in her expression. "Are you doing okay?"
"Yeah," Canopus chimed in, misunderstanding what Abraxas was referring to. "You aren't really the type."
Genevieve beamed at Abraxas. Of course, Abraxas was more concerned about her reaction to the triggering news than her new 'promotion.' Genevieve slowly said, as if testing out each word on her tongue. "Yeah, I think so. I'm sure no harm will come to any of us, not students, even if they seem close." Abraxas nodded with a weak smile.
Genevieve turned to Canopus to answer his question. "And I still don't see myself as a Head Girl, but I might as well use this authority to do what I like," Genevieve's mind wandered to the other muggleborn students probably living in anxiety.
"Wicked," Canopus' devilish smirk grew and his eyes sparkled.
Genevieve raised her brows at him, and blinked a few times, tilting her head. "Canopus, I don't know what you were picturing when I said that, and I frankly don't want to know, but I am NOT using my position to assist in whatever pranks-..."
Genevieve was cut short when the door burst open, and Walburga Black strode in. "NO, BOYS, ALLOWED!" She screeched and pointed out the door, "I want to sleep. Go talk outside!"
Genevieve glanced at her watch. 22:43. Damn. She had a point. She's only been Head Girl for 43 minutes and she had already broken a school rule. Old habits die hard, she supposed. With one final wave of the wand, she packed the last of her things.
"Sorry," she mumbled to Walburga Black, and on her way out, glanced around her dorm room one last time. Even if it meant sleeping with Walburga, she had to admit, she was going to miss the Slytherin dorm that she called her home for 6 years.
Genevieve was followed by an apologetic Abraxas Malfoy, growling and glaring Canopus Lestrange, and Alphard Black politely bidding her a good night on his way out.
"Merlin's snatched wig," Canopus ruffled his head, glancing back at the room as they walked up the stairs into the common room. "I swear to god, every year, she starts to feel more like her grandmother."
Genevieve chuckled, "That's one thing I'm thankful for: a better roommate." Tom Riddle was… Tom Riddle, but at least he wasn't constantly preaching her pureblood supremacy in his waking and sleeping hours.
Abraxas nodded. "Tom's a good man. You'll be in safe hands," Abraxas placed a hand on her shoulder. The hand almost felt like a protective gesture.
"Well," Genevieve turned back to her friends at the common room exit. "It's been good. Maybe I'll see you guys again someday," she pouted in exaggeration.
Canopus rolled his eyes and punched her arm. "Oh shut up, Gev," he turned around and waved at her, not even looking back at her as he headed towards the boy's dormitory. "I'm going to sleep."
Abraxas threw an apologetic glance at Genevieve's offended gasp, and after quickly mumbling a small 'good night' and patting her shoulder, chased after Canopus.
She turned her head to look at Al, but her amused smile faltered seeing his eyes dead serious. Twice in the night; Genevieve was not used to seeing him so serious.
"Can I walk you to the Heads' dormitory?" Al asked after a moment, seemingly making up his mind.
Genevieve, bewildered, still nodded and watched silently as she let Alphard take her trunk.
She was struck by the sudden silence and darkness when the common room door closed behind them. They were completely separated from the firelight, the students' friendly chatter, and the scribbling of the quills. Instead, the green torch light illuminated the dim corridor. It was a sudden slap of a realisation of what she was leaving behind.
Alphard was extremely quiet on their walk up to the Head's dormitory. Al simply kept his gaze cast downwards as he strode forward. He was walking so briskly, she had to trot along to keep up with him. Genevieve observed him closely, even trying to make eye contact by lowering her head to peer into his eyes.
She was beginning to wonder if she had somehow made him mad. "Thanks for carrying my trunk," Genevieve added, trying to lighten up the mood. But still, nothing. In fact, it seemed like Al was completely unaware that she was next to him as they climbed the long and arduous Grand Staircase.
It was when she was beginning to worry that Alphard became possessed, when he finally opened his mouth. "I came with you to tell you that…" Alphard trailed off, searching for the right words. "I came to tell you that you should be careful around Riddle."
Genevieve narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure if she heard that correctly. Sure, Tom Riddle can be a bit of a stick-up-his-arse tense, but… "Why?" It was a simple, dumbfounded question that she ended on out of so many questions swirling in her head. She noticed that his footsteps were slowing down, seemingly as they got closer to the Head dorm.
Her question stumped him again. In frustration, he ran a hand back through his messy black hair, "I can't quite explain what it is. But, but-." Genevieve noticed Alphard was trying to sound as diplomatic and logical as possible. Understandably so. Anyone claiming the popular and cordial Tom Riddle to be a fake would be deemed insane by the Hogwarts crowd. Blasphemous even.
"I just have this feeling that," Alphard continued, "He's really good at hiding."
"Hiding?" her voice has involuntarily turned into a whisper. "Hide what?"
"I-, I'm not sure." Alphard ran a hand through his hair again, this time ruffling them. He was now whispering as well, "maybe dark thoughts, emotions, or memories. I don't know. But he scares me, Gev."
"But Abraxas-," Alphard cut her off.
Al stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face her, "Abe doesn't see him like I do. The miniscule movement of his brows. The twitch of the hand. The flared nostrils. Just please," Alphard was especially careful about whispering now, a few feet away from the door to the Head dorm. He placed his hands on her arms. "Just please trust me on this one."
Genevieve stared into his eyes. His eyes were wide open, dead serious as they glinted in the moonlight. Again, it scared her to see him like this. But, was that… a teary desperate plea in his eyes?
Genevieve learned over the years to learn to trust the instinct, sixth sense, or whatever it was that Alphard Black had. She thought back to the few memorable moments of Alphard's brilliancy. It was only on their second day of Hogwarts when Alphard, upon hearing Abraxas talk about the gift he received from his mother, pointed out to Abraxas that he had a controlling mother, which was followed by a persistent denial on the part of Abraxas and a prolonged fight between the two. It was the following day when Alphard pointed out this time to Canopus that he was someday going to develop an anger issue. Perhaps it was truly just his acute observation, the twitch of the hand, as he called it.
But then, there was also that moment, when Alphard merely glanced at the cheery face of Professor Binns. One look at him was all it took for Alphard to whisper to Genevieve that his mother had just passed away, a fact even the professor himself was unaware of at the moment. And there was also that moment when Alphard predicted that the Hufflepuff would win a close match against Ravenclaw with 10 points difference after seeing his dinner plate. Perhaps he had a vision. Perhaps he saw something in the positions and sizes of the peas and carrots of his breakfast. But either way, he won that 10 galleons against Canopus that day.
"Alright." Genevieve finally murmured. She nodded, as if nodding to herself was going to help her remember the warning verbatim. "Alright, Al. I'll watch my back."
Al seemed to have visibly calmed down by her words. "Good…" he swallowed hard and nodded to himself. "Sorry if I scared you."
Genevieve shook her head. "No, honestly. I was just worried about you." She was still bewildered at what kind of Riddle's behaviour could have caused such distress in her friend. But nonetheless, she added, "thanks for telling me."
Al nodded, and placed the handle of the trunk into her hand. The weight fell into her hand as if something, something indescribably heavy, was just passed onto her. Something she wasn't sure she was ready to accept.
She watched the retreating back of Alphard Avery into the darkness, and turned around to face the portrait. She was suddenly caught by how lonely the dark and quiet corridor felt when Al left.
It was now just her against the Head dorm and whatever it contained within its walls.
She shook her head, and turned around to face the portrait. There was only going forward from here. "Una in varietas," she mumbled.
As the door creaked open, she stepped into the blinding light that streamed out of the doorway into what was a pitch-dark corridor.
A/N: This was my first fanfic written in middle school, published under the same name by PumpkinPie1926 on . But, based on how cringe-worthy the writing/characterisation/the plot was, I decided to give it a massive re-do. The characters and the main plot arc remain the same, but I can finally say that I genuinely like both Genevieve and Tom, now that they are more aligned with my values/moral code. As always, thanks for reading!
Much thought went into Genevieve's last name. The lack of representation is horrid in the original Harry Potter, and it's so upsetting when you can't really picture yourself in the Harry Potter universe unless you're white/British (even if it's getting better with Fantastic Beasts). In my mind, Genevieve is half Japanese and half European (Brit/French), just out of respect for my original character who was white as a paper. But, I chose the name Kai (甲斐) for the most ethnically ambiguous last name I could find in Japanese. My hope is that you can insert whatever appearance/ethnicity you'd like to picture in her