Told you I'd have it up soon ;) Anyways I hope you all appreciate the fact that I'll probably fail high school due to my insane need to update on this story lately...be grateful!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...but I'm working on it...hehehe :)
Chapter Two
I wasn't sure when I fell asleep the night before, but I woke up to the sun on my face and Hermione telling me it was time to get dressed or we'd be late for our first day of classes. I groaned and rolled over, hoping to get a few minutes more of sleep, but it was no use. I was awake now. I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes slowly. The other girls in our grade were still sleeping. I tried to remember their names. I thought that the short girl with curly brown hair might be named Lavender, but I couldn't for the life of me remember the name of the dark skinned girl with raven-black hair. I knew that it was something exotic sounding and that she had a twin sister in Ravenclaw named Padma, but I still couldn't remember her name. I shrugged it off and threw a pillow at Lavender to wake her up before heading to the bathroom to get ready.
Looking in the mirror I was glad that I was a metamorphamagus. Being able to change your appearance at will has its advantages. I could pretend to be brushing my hair, but really after just a few subtle changes my hair was falling perfectly in loose curls and my skin was bright and clear. I knew I wouldn't ever need makeup or beauty potions because I could make myself as beautiful or as ugly as I wished. The one disadvantage was that if I did that then I was never just being me. I shrugged that thought away almost as soon as it entered my brain. I couldn't be myself anyway, so I might as well have some fun with my disguises. I checked my reflection in the mirror one more time before going to pull on my robes. When I was finished getting ready I grabbed my bag full of books and headed down to the Great Hall.
Harry and Ron were both waiting for me at the Gryffindor table, their eyes still clouded with sleep. I plopped myself next to Ron and greeted them both cheerfully while reaching for a muffin and pouring myself a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry and Ron both just groaned. I guessed that they wouldn't be awake for a few more minutes, but that instant the mail came. And that woke Harry up at least. I don't think he'd ever been told about the morning mail at Hogwarts, but I was prepared for it. Hundreds of owls poured into the Great Hall, swooping to find their owners in an elegant dance of feathers. I looked up, wondering if any of them had a message from my mother. One owl dropped the Daily Prophet into my lap and held out its leg for payment. I gave it the money it wanted and unfurled the newspaper, skimming the headline. What I saw made me uneasy. Gringotts had been broken into, and although nothing had been reported stolen, the culprit had gotten free. I didn't think anything like that had ever happened in the history of the bank. It was supposedly safer than Hogwarts. I lowered the paper and looked up to see a large, golden owl sitting in front of me, its bright blue gaze fixed steadily on me.
"Ella?" I breathed in shock.
"You know this bird?" asked Harry, curious. I nodded as Harry reached out to stroke her. The owl made a noise of affection and nipped lightly at Harry's fingers. Harry grinned.
"Who does she belong to?" asked Harry, curious.
"My mum," I lied. Ella didn't belong to my mum. Ella was my mother in her animagus form: her illegal animagus form. My mother held out her leg for me to grab the letter from her talons. I grabbed it quickly and opened it with trembling fingers. The writing was familiar. It was the same elegant script I had been reading my entire life. It was also in French. I was guessing that this was because my mother didn't want to risk the letter being read by the wrong person. Translated it read:
My Dearest ,
Meet me in the owlery after your last class of the day. I would love to hear all about your first day of school. I cannot change form then because there is too much risk that someone will see me, but at least you will be telling it to me face to face, or face to beak—whichever way you wish to look at it—I look forward to seeing you then. You can expect another letter from me soon; I have some news to tell you. I love you my sweet.
All My Love,
Maman
P.S. Remember to call me Ella.
I looked up to see Ron staring over my shoulder, trying to read what my letter said. I glared at him and folded my letter quickly, tucking it into my bag and feeding Ella my piece of bacon.
"You shouldn't read other people's mail," I said calmly, stroking Ella's feathers. She rubbed her head against my hand and nipped affectionately at my fingers. I smiled wide. It felt good to have contact with my mother, even if it was unconventional. I glanced up to see Ron's ears turning pink with embarrassment.
"It's not as if I could read anything," he mumbled under his breath, "It's all in French."
"To prevent nosy friends from reading it," I affirmed. Harry looked on amused.
"You speak French?" asked Harry, curious. I nodded.
"My mother's from France, remember?" I reminded him. Ella nipped at my hand a little harder and I yanked my hand back, staring at her in shock. I recognized that look of reproach on Ella's face. Even though my mother was currently disguised as an owl I could still hear her voice as clear as day in my mind.
"Don't give too much away ma petite." I rolled my eyes and glared at Ella. I could keep the secret. I took out my schedule and began scanning the classes we had today.
"We have Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws today," I read off, "And then Herbology with Hufflepuffs, and after that we have lunch and then a double session of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw. It looks as if we don't have any classes with Slytherin at all today, which is great." Ella was still there, and I was guessing that she was waiting to hear when I'd be coming up.
"Classes don't get out till 3:00 today," I told her, "I'll write back to Maman then." Ella nodded and then took off in a flurry of feathers, cuffing the back of my head as she went. It was my mother's way of reminding me that even though she was in owl form, she was still my mother. I guessed that she was annoyed at me for snapping. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my schedule. I could feel Harry and Ron looking at me. I looked up to meet their stares.
"What?" I snapped. Ron looked away, but Harry kept staring.
"You just snapped at an owl," Harry stated calmly, "Are you alright?" I laughed. I hadn't realized what talking to Ella would sound like.
"I'm fine," I told him, "I think I'm just nervous for today. And Maman must've told Ella to wait until I wrote back. She worries about me up here," I lied. Harry nodded. Just then Hermione showed up, buzzing with excitement. Ron rolled his eyes and went back to stuffing his face. I laughed; I could tell that Ron thought Hermione was annoying, but I liked her.
"Are you ready for class yet?" Hermione asked me, her leg bouncing up and down in her seat. I held up my spoonful of cereal in answer.
"Just give me a second to finish my cereal," I mumbled around a spoonful.
"Aren't you going to eat, Hermione?" asked Harry curiously. Hermione laughed breathlessly and shook her head.
"Goodness no," she answered cheerfully, "I'm far too excited to actually eat something," she explained. I finished my last spoonful with a satisfied sigh. Hermione noticed immediately.
"Come on then!" she urged me as she dragged me out of my seat, "I want to get a seat at the front!" I waved goodbye to Harry and Ron as Hermione literally dragged me away.
"First class is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall," Hermione gushed excitedly, "I hear she's really strict, but a brilliant teacher, and she's head of Gryffindor so maybe she'll go easy on us, but I doubt it. I wouldn't if I were in her place." I let Hermione ramble on, nodding when she paused and giving my opinion when asked. I was excited for Transfiguration as well, but mainly because it had always been one of my best subjects. I was a metamorphamagus; shifting came naturally to me, and so did forcing other objects to change their shape. I had always just understood the theory behind Transfiguration, and although I knew that we most likely wouldn't be learning anything new for me, I was still excited to practice, and maybe just a little bit glad for the chance to show off a bit. Sue me, I'm a little vain.
Hermione and I were the first two in the class; even Professor McGonagall seemed to be absent. There was, however, a small tabby cat sitting primly on top of Professor McGonagall's desk. The cat was gray in color, and there was something familiar about it. Then I realized what it was; the cat had markings around its eyes the exact shape of Professor McGonagall's spectacles. My eyes widened. It made sense for the Transfiguration teacher to be an animagus, after all that was the most difficult brand of transfiguration created. I suspected that even I would have trouble acquiring that skill, but even so my respect for Professor McGonagall went up in points.
"Good morning Professor," I greeted Professor McGonagall the cat cheerfully. In a blink there was our Professor where once there was a gray tabby.
"My dear girl, how on earth did you know it was me?" asked Professor McGonagall. I smiled.
"I recognized the markings around your eyes. They're the same as your spectacles," I admitted. Professor McGonagall gave me a half-smile.
"Very observant of you Ms…" she waited for me to provide a name.
"Devereux," I answered, "Lissa Devereux."
"Well Ms. Devereux, I must say I am impressed," Professor McGonagall admitted, "Few first year students have any idea what an animagus is, let alone on their first day." I beamed proudly.
"My mother's favorite class was Transfiguration," I told her, "She used to try and teach me some of the theories." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"And who was your mother my dear?" she asked, "Perhaps I know her from one of my classes?" I shook my head.
"I doubt it," I told her honestly, "She attended Beuxbatons." Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding.
I took my seat as Professor McGonagall transformed back into a cat. Hermione was staring at me wide-eyed. I grinned shyly at her.
"How did you know about animagi?" Hermione demanded furiously, "I didn't come across the term except while reading the more advanced Transfiguration books. It's a third-year term at least!" I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Like I said, my mother loved Transfiguration, she used to tell me everything she could remember about the classes to keep it fresh in her memory," I explained. It was only a partial lie. My mother had indeed loved Transfiguration when she attended school, and she was extraordinarily gifted in it as well, but she had taught me the theories as part of my training. And she hadn't just explained them to me, she had also made me practice them hands-on. I was probably at a fifth-year level of Transfiguration, and I no doubt could've taken the O.W.L.s Exam that morning and made a perfect O. I had always excelled at this subject.
The class gradually began filing in, but I noticed that Harry and Ron were still missing. I felt a nudge of worry in the back of my mind. What if something had happened to them? What if I had been right and there really was something dangerous at this school? My fears were eased when Harry and Ron came in last, out of breath, and clearly confused. I guessed that they had probably gotten lost. They looked around and, after seeing that the teacher wasn't present, seemed to breathe an audible sigh of relief. Little did they know; I felt bad for them.
"She's not here," Ron assured Harry, clapping him on the back, "We're good." Hermione and I exchanged a look, fighting back our giggles. They were in such trouble. It was then that Professor McGonagall decided to make her grand entrance. The entire class (with the exception of Hermione and I) gasped in shock. Hermione and I just grinned knowingly and continued getting our supplies out of our school bags. Harry and Ron looked terrified, and rightly so. Professor McGonagall, who had been smiling at me earlier, did not look even remotely happy with Harry and Ron.
Professor McGonagall strode forward briskly, her mouth in a tight line.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, perhaps it would be beneficial for me to turn one of you into a watch, or an alarm of some sort? One of you might actually arrive on time," she spoke curtly, and I could tell that this was her no-nonsense voice. I fought back a snort as both Harry and Ron turned redder than Ron's hair. It was impressive to say the least.
"We got lost," mumbled Harry apologetically. I noticed Professor McGonagall soften slightly. I frowned in confusion, she had been annoyed before, but now she looked almost…nostalgic?
"Yes well, perhaps I should turn you into a map then?" she asked briskly. She motioned for them to take her seats before turning back to the desk to begin the lecture. I began taking diligent notes. I already understood most of what she was teaching, but I knew that there was always a possibility that she would teach something my mother had failed to cover, and I wasn't about to miss it.
By the end of the class Professor McGonagall had us all working to turn matchsticks to needles. I had managed to do so on my first go, and Professor McGonagall, who had been thoroughly impressed, held it up for the class to see and awarded twenty points to Gryffindor for the accomplishment. I covered my smirk; there was no need to be cocky. If I hadn't already learned how to do basic magic at age seven then there was no telling where I would be in this class. I would probably be somewhere close to Hermione, who had managed to make her match go sharp and pointy. I felt bad; it was actually very impressive for her first day, but because of my success it got little notice from Professor McGonagall. Hermione looked as if she might cry. I decided to help her out a bit.
"The trick is to picture the actual process, and not just what you want the finished product to look like," I whispered, "Try and see the match morphing into the needle. Try it." Hermione frowned slightly, but she took a deep breath and muttered the spell, her brows furrowed in concentration. Immediately the match morphed into a perfect needle.
"Professor McGonagall!" I yelled, raising my hand, "Hermione's done it!" Professor McGonagall came over to our desk to have a look, and I swear she looked like she might clap with excitement.
"I've never had two students manage this spell perfectly on the first day," she told us, "Twenty more points to Gryffindor, and I must congratulate you girls. You seem to have a knack for Transfiguration." She smiled down at us and then turned back to the class. She dismissed us early, saying that with two students mastering the spell, she didn't think it necessary to force us in class much longer. Hermione was positively gleeful as we exited that class.
"Lissa that was positively brilliant advice," Hermione told me. I blushed.
"Really it was nothing," I told her, "You were the one who mastered the spell on your own." Hermione shook her head quickly.
"No, really Lissa," she insisted, "I never would've gotten that spell without your help." I shrugged. I had really just sped up the process a little; she would've gotten the spell by the end of the afternoon I was sure, but I didn't feel like contradicting her.
Our next class was Herbology, and I ended up at a table with Harry, Ron, and two Hufflepuff guys. Hermione was at a table with Lavender and Pavarti (I had finally managed to remember her name), and two more Hufflepuff girls. We weren't really doing anything today, which I was grateful for. I had never developed my mother's green thumb, and I was certain that Herbology would be my worst subject. But thankfully we got through the class without having to actually touch any of the plants in our greenhouse. I was sure that eventually I would have to work with these plants, but the longer I could put it off the happier I would be.
Hermione wouldn't stop talking about classes. We were eating lunch, and every word out of her mouth since exiting the Herbology Greenhouse had either been about how remarkable Transfiguration had been or the many different kinds of plants in the greenhouse. I loved school as much as the next girl, but this was getting ridiculous. Ron was even more annoyed than I was, and I could tell that he blamed me for her presence. If he had his way, Hermione would be sent away with her tail between her legs, but I wouldn't let him be mean to her. Not only was she my friend, she was also the girl I had to live with for the next seven years. So no matter how annoying the constant talk of classes was getting, I was sticking up for her. I could tell that even Harry was losing his patience.
"Hermione," I interrupted her tirade on Transfiguration theory, "Why don't you take a break from school and actually eat your lunch?" Hermione blushed slightly and apologized. I grinned; even Hermione was beginning to realize how annoying her rambling could get. This was why I was friends with her. We retired into silence as I finished my last spoonful of soup and told the others that I would meet them at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They all bid me farewell, and Hermione had already taken out her book to get started on Transfiguration homework. I rolled my eyes and walked off. I didn't trust the Professor for DADA. Professor Quirrel was the man in the purple turban from yesterday, and whether it was because of my natural instinct, or the fact that both mine and Harry's scar had burned the minute I looked at him, I knew that I didn't trust him at all.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was boring. I was surprised because I had always loved the subject, but Professor Quirrel seemed to only want to talk about the dangers of certain creatures rather than go over the different ways of defeating them. He spent the entire hour reiterating how perfectly dreadful vampires were and how one should always make a point to avoid them if one could. I though this was slightly misguided as most Vampires don't have a choice in there existence and a majority of them only take blood from willing donors. In fact, my mother had told me about one of her old friends who was a Vampire and how she absolutely despised the idea of forcing someone to give blood and the idea of killing was preposterous in her mind. In short, I decided early into the class that I did not like Professor Quirrel at all.
After Defense Against the Dark Arts class I went straight to the Owlery to tell my mother about my day. She was waiting for me patiently, perched on a window sill and ruffling her wings every now and then. She fixed me with a piercing stare as soon as I entered the owlery.
"Salut, Maman," I greeted her as I stepped off the stairs that led to the tower. She gave a soft hoot in return and flew over, landing gently on my shoulder. I stroked her feathers gently as she tugged on my hair and hooted in my ear. It was the only kind of affection she could give me in this form, and I was grateful to have even that. I sat down on a bench near the window and began to tell her about my day. I told her about my distrust of Professor Quirrel and my scar hurting the night before. She sat there quietly, a comforting weight on my shoulder, and every once in awhile she would give a soft hoot to reassure me that she was there. I stroked her as I spoke, wishing I could crawl into her arms and be like a normal eleven-year-old girl. I wanted to go back to the times when she was only my mother, and not my trainer. The days before magic and protectors were the ones I missed most, but for now I would be satisfied with the owl currently hanging onto my every word. Eventually I ran out of things to say, and we sat there, enjoying the silence until the sound of footsteps startled us out of our peaceful solitude. My mother nipped at my ear affectionately before taking off in flight. Her soft feathers brushed my cheek as she exited the owlery. To me it felt like a kiss goodbye. I fought back the tears of sadness and turned to see who had cut my time with my mother short. It was Harry. He studied me closely, as if he could tell that something was off. I smiled and walked away from the window, not bothering to try for a last glimpse of my mother; I knew that she was gone.
"Are you okay?" asked a concerned Harry. I nodded.
"I'm fine," I told him in a steady voice, and in that moment I knew that I was. I missed home, and I missed my mother desperately, but I had Hogwarts, and for the first time for as long as I could remember, I had friends.
"I was just sending my letter to mum, what about you?" I asked. Harry shrugged, and I thought I caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes as he sat down next to me at the window seat.
"I was just coming up here to check on Hedwig," he explained, "I don't really have too many people to write to." I felt a stab of guilt. I knew Harry must wish he had a family like what Ron and I had. My family might not be the greatest, but I still had someone who missed me when I was away; Harry didn't have that.
"Do you want to explore the castle with me after you're done here?" I asked him, trying to distract him. Harry's eyes lit up in excitement.
"Sure!" he agreed enthusiastically before standing up again. He looked around, searching for his snowy owl, but she was nowhere to be found.
"I guess she's out hunting," he shrugged in disappointment, "Where do you want to go?" I shrugged.
"Let's just see what we can find," I told him, and we both exited the owlery and I turned left down a random corridor. Harry and I joked most of the way as we opened the door to random classrooms and peeked our heads in. Eventually we ended up out on the grounds, walking around the Great Lake. I glanced at the water suspiciously, but since I wasn't actually in it, it managed to not bother me as much as usual. Harry noticed my nervous glance in its direction and decided to ask about it.
"Why are you so afraid of the water?" asked Harry, curious. I shrugged. I didn't want to get into the reasons behind my fears. In truth, I wasn't even sure why I was afraid to begin with. I had always feared the water, but I had never had a traumatic experience with it that I could remember. There were no near drownings in my past or lost loved ones that had died on the water. I was just terrified of it.
"I don't know," I told him, "I've always been afraid of it though." I looked up and met his eyes, narrowing them in mock warning, "Don't you dare tell anyone that I'm afraid of it," I warned him. He chuckled.
"I wouldn't dream of it Lissa," he laughed, "You're scary when you're angry." I smiled in gratitude. My fears were things I liked to keep close to the belt. Letting someone know your fears gave them too much power over you. They had a weapon that they could use against you, and you could never get it away from them after that. I hadn't intended for Harry to know my fear of water, but I had a feeling that I could trust him not to use it against me. At least, I hoped I could trust him.
When we got back to the common room, Ron was waiting for us with a bloody nose.
"Ron what happened?" I asked in alarm.
"Malfoy," explained Hermione darkly as she pressed a napkin to his nose, trying to sop up the blood. I felt a surge of anger at this. Malfoy had hurt my friend. I was not okay with this. I moved Hermione aside and pulled out my wand, pointing it at Ron's bleeding nose.
"Episkey," I murmured quietly. Almost immediately the bleeding stopped and Ron looked at me in amazement.
"How did you do that?" Ron asked in wonder. I shrugged, blushing furiously. I shouldn't have done that; I should have taken him to the hospital wing and let the nurse take care of it. Mum would kill me when she found out I had been that careless, but it was done.
"I've been reading about healing charms," I explained, "And I just mastered the theory behind that one. It saved you a trip to the hospital wing at any rate." I bit my lip and silently sent up a prayer that the others would buy my fib. Ron seemed dubious, but willing enough to accept my answer, Hermione and Harry however, were still looking at me curiously. Hermione, I knew, would have read all about healing charms, and she would have realized that the spell I had just preformed was closer to a sixth year's level of magic rather than our first year level. And Harry wasn't stupid; I was beginning to suspect that he was able to read me better than the others, because he always seemed to realize when I was lying.
I quickly excused myself after that, not even bothering to stay and hear Ron's story of why Malfoy had given him a bloody nose. I wanted to escape the staring and questions I saw in both Harry's and Hermione's eyes. Unfortunately, while I may be able to avoid Harry in the girl's dormitory, Hermione was a different story altogether. She showed up not long afterwards to question me.
"How do you know that level of magic?" Hermione demanded as soon as she entered the dormitory. I shrugged as I reached for a book from my shelf.
"I told you," I began, but Hermione cut me off.
"There's no way you were able to understand the theories behind that charm without extensive study and practice. You would've had to have practiced that particular charm dozens of times in order to have gotten it perfect the way you did." Hermione declared, "I can't even understand the theories behind that charm, and I've already mastered a few of the more basic spells we'll be learning this year. That was a N.E.W.T level charm." I rolled my eyes dramatically. Hermione's questions were getting on my nerves, but more importantly, I was annoyed with myself for giving her a reason to ask those questions.
"Maybe I'm just smarter than you Hermione," I snapped peevishly, "Did you ever think of that?" Immediately after the words had left my mouth I regretted saying them. Hermione looked as if she had been slapped. I could tell that I had hit on one of her insecurities. I nearly groaned out loud at my stupidity.
"Hermione," I started in apologetically, but she held up her hand to stop my apology. Her eyes were hard, and I knew that she was working on reigning in her temper.
"I get it if you don't want to tell me the truth," she told me coldly, "But I thought we were friends. Please don't insult my intelligence by giving me the same lie you gave Ron." And with that she turned to her bed and drew the curtains around her, effectively shutting me out. I collapsed on my pillow in defeat. I was an idiot. I had just alienated my only girl friend, and I was sure that Ron and Harry would eventually realize the lie I was telling and turn their backs on me as well. I was hopeless. My first friends and I wouldn't even be able to keep them for a day.
The next day was horrible. Hermione refused to speak to me, casting me cold glances every now and then; Ron didn't mind this at all because it meant that she was no longer going on about school, but I couldn't get rid of the constant guilt gnawing away at my insides. Harry kept shooting me odd glances throughout the day and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. To make matters worse, today was our first day of potions, and as if that weren't bad enough, it was with the Slytherins.
Malfoy clearly hadn't forgotten the fact that I had gotten him his first detention because as soon as I entered the classroom he shot an ugly glare in my direction. If I were anyone else the look might have frightened me, but I knew that when it came down to it, I was more than capable of beating him in a duel. But Malfoy was the least of my worries. My greatest concern was the professor.
I quickly came to the conclusion that Professor Snape was the meanest, most miserable piece of slime to walk the planet. The fact that he seemed to hate Harry did not put him in my good graces.
Harry, Ron, and I sat down at the same table just before Professor Snape came sweeping in, his sallow face and hooked nose giving me the impression of a vampire (yes I realize I'm going against my whole "Vampires are nice" speech from earlier). Professor Snape definitely did not look like a friendly vampire. However, something odd happened as soon as his eyes moved to our table.
Snape sneered a little when he caught sight of Harry, something that I didn't understand at all; how can you instantly dislike someone? But as soon as Snape's black eyes landed on me he went white. It looked like all of the blood had been drained out of his face. I shared a confused look with Ron and Harry, who had both noticed Snape's reaction to seeing me. Snape looked like he had seen a ghost, and I wasn't sure what I had done to cause such a reaction.
Snape quickly regained his composure and as soon as he did, he began to torment Harry. He started by taking role. He paused at my name briefly, and his face looked puzzled; for a brief moment I worried that he would somehow recognize my last name, but then he moved on, pausing only when he came to Harry's name.
"Ah, Harry Potter," he leered unpleasantly, "Our new celebrity." I gritted my teeth in annoyance as Harry blushed and looked away. I knew he hated any sort of reference to his fame, and honestly I didn't blame him. Who wanted to be reminded of the fact that they were famous for the murder of their family? Not me. Snape seemed to be enjoying Harry's discomfort however, because he moved closer to our table and looked down at Harry, a look of disdain on his face.
"Oh don't be so modest Mr. Potter; after all, I doubt you even have a need for this class. Am I right? A great wizard like you should have no trouble with something as basic as potions. Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?" Harry looked terrified at having been asked a question on the fist day. I felt bad for him, an even though I knew the answer, it was hardly something a first year would know. I glared up at Snape, wishing I could burn him with my look.
"Hmmm," Snape hummed in a sick sort of pleasure, "Clearly, fame isn't everything after all. Did you think you could come into my class without picking up a book all summer Potter? Or are you really just that stupid?" Harry shot Snape a look of pure hatred as Malfoy snickered with the other Slytherins.
"Leave him alone," I snapped indignantly, "I bet you could ask any of the students in this classroom and less than half of them could tell you where to find a bezoar." Snape raised an eyebrow as he studied me intensely. I refused to look away, even though his gaze was making me uncomfortable.
"Well Ms…Devereux was it?" he started, "clearly you have a problem with the way I teach, so by all means, voice your complaints." I lifted my chin in defiance.
"I don't know what your problem with Harry is Professor," I spat sarcastically, "But I think it's unfair to treat him poorly because you assume because he's famous he's automatically going to act a certain way. I guarantee you that Harry would rather be anonymous with parents than famous without them, and it's extremely unprofessional of you to pick on a student over some pathetic vendetta that you hold against those who are better known than you." Snape smiled sardonically, and I knew before he opened his mouth that I was in trouble.
"Detention, Ms. Devereux," he stated calmly, "Perhaps that will teach you to respect your elders." And with that he walked away to begin class; I rolled my eyes and began taking notes. Snape didn't scare me; I'd gone through much worse than a detention during training with my mother. I ignored the looks I got from Harry and Ron throughout class, but after we were released I was ambushed.
"What the bloody hell are you dong, going against Snape on the first day?" Ron demanded, "Are you mental?" I rolled my eyes.
"Yes Ronald," I replied, "We've already established that my sanity is not all it should be." Both boys snorted at my flippant tone.
"Well you shouldn't have gotten yourself in trouble over me," Harry insisted, "I can handle Snape." I smiled at Harry.
"I'm sure you can Harry, but that doesn't excuse the fact that his behavior was ridiculous and it pissed me off." Just then I was nearly bowled over by Malfoy and his cronies.
"Oi!" Harry shouted after them, "Apologize!" I shot Harry an warning glance, telling him to back off. Malfoy smirked before giving him a mocking bow.
"Yes your majesty," he sneered, "Anything you say your majesty"
"Shut up Malfoy," I growled, reaching for my wand. Malfoy just smirked.
"Looks like we'll be seeing each other in detention this week Devereux," he gloated, "I so look forward to it." And with that he left. Ron and Harry were bristling behind me at Malfoy's veiled threat, but I just shrugged it off.
Our next class was History of Magic, and it was by far the most boring class I had ever sat through in my entire life. Professor Binns was the only ghost to teach at Hogwarts, and no one was entirely sure how long he had been teaching there to begin with. One day he had simply died and when it came time for class he got up and started his lesson, not seeming to notice the fact that he no longer had a body. His voice grated like nails on a chalk board, and he spoke in a monotone about the most boring subjects. I had always found Magical History to be fascinating, but even I was having trouble finding interest in the seventh goblin war.
I woke somewhere strange. It was dark and cool, and I didn't recognize it at all. It looked as if it might be some hidden underground chamber at Hogwarts, but I couldn't be sure. My entire body ached from the torture I had endured, and tears were streaming down my face.
"Tell me where to find the stone!" commanded a cold, shrill voice. I shook my head in refusal, desperately wishing for relief from the pain.
"Crucio!" screamed the voice, and suddenly it was like a thousand knives stabbing into me at once, like my entire body on fire. It was the very worst pain imaginable, and it never ended. I screamed in agony, wishing for death. The world began to dim and I knew I was about to die. At least I would die without ever handing over the stone.
"Lissa?" came a voice from a distance.
"Lissa?" It was louder now, the pain was beginning to fade. Was I dead?
"Lissa!" yelled a voice right next to my ear. I jerked awake.
I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the History of Magic classroom. Harry and Ron were looking at me in concern, and even Hermione looked anxious. I was sweaty and cold with fear; my heart was pounding in my rib cage and I wished it would slow.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked gently. I nodded silently, unable to find my voice.
"Perhaps my dear, you would like to go to the hospital wing," suggested Professor Binns in his stuffy voice. I shook my head in denial.
"Dumbledore," I whispered, barely audible.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" asked Professor Binns.
"I need Dumbledore," I repeated in a slightly steadier tone; the others all looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Please," I added desperately, "It's important that I speak to Professor Dumbledore right away." Professor Binns looked hesitant for a moment before he consented.
"Very well," he agreed reluctantly, "The Headmaster's office is on the second floor corridor, behind the giant gargoyle; the password is licorice snaps." I sighed in relief and nodded before standing up and hurriedly moving to escape the class and the curious stares following me.
Normally a bad dream would not have fazed me, but this dream was different; it scared me. To add to my confusion, the scar on my hand was prickling, something that it never did. No, this dream was not normal, and I was going to figure it out if it killed me.
I reached the gargoyle guarding Professor Dumbledore's office with little trouble. The gargoyle leapt aside as soon as I murmured the password, revealing a stone staircase leading up to Dumbledore's study. I hurriedly stepped onto the staircase and began making my way up, wanting to get this over with.
I was half expecting Dumbledore's door to be locked, but it opened easily for me, revealing a large, circular room with walls covered from floor to ceiling with paintings of headmasters passed; all were sleeping soundly. Dumbledore himself sat behind a desk covered in delicate and foreign looking instruments that whirred and buzzed away, giving no hint to their actual purposes. Without looking up, Dumbledore greeted me.
"Most would consider it polite to knock, but from what I hear of you Ms. Black, you're not one for useless pleasantries." Dumbledore looked up, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily. I blushed at my lack of manners; I had been too preoccupied to consider knocking. Dumbledore winked in amusement, and I understood that he wouldn't hold it against me.
"It's Ms. Devereux, Professor," I corrected him, "And I needed to speak with you; it's quite urgent." Dumbledore motioned for me to take a seat at his desk, which I happily consented to do. I was still a little shaky from the dream, and sitting down came as a relief to my frayed nerves.
"Now Ms. Black, you and I both know that Devereux is not your real name so I would appreciate it if you would allow me to drop pretenses while behind the safety of my office doors," Professor Dumbledore said lightly, taking me by surprise. I, of course, knew that he was aware of my family history, but I had hoped that he would refuse to acknowledge it. Denial made it much easier for me to keep up my charade.
"Very well," I consented reluctantly. Dumbledore smiled benignly and folded his hands in front of him, fixing me with a steady gaze.
"Now that we have that settled, why don't you tell me what is on your mind," he said nonchalantly, as if we were merely discussing the weather.
I told him about my dream, about my scare prickling and about my concern for what it might mean. Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly as I continued. When I was finished he stood up and began pacing. I watched him patiently, waiting for his response.
"Has your scar ever bothered you before?" Dumbledore asked me gravely, continuing in his pacing.
"Only once before, sir," I told him, "During the Welcome Feast." Dumbledore frowned as if this were not welcome news.
"Have you ever before experienced prophetic dreams?" Dumbledore demanded after a moment more of his pacing. I shook my head in answer.
"Never," I affirmed.
"Now tell me, Ms. Black, what you know of the Sorcerer's Stone," Dumbledore commanded; his eyes were serious and lacking in their usual brightness. I furrowed my brow in confusion. The term he used sounded familiar, but I wasn't very clear on the particulars.
"Isn't it a tool used in alchemy?" I asked, curious. Dumbledore nodded before taking a seat once more.
"You are correct Ms. Black," he told me, "The Sorcerer's Stone is a tool used in alchemy, although it is exceedingly rare to find even in that field; currently, there is only one in existence." I nodded, understanding what he said, but not quite comprehending what it meant.
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think I quite understand the connection between a Sorcerer's Stone and my dream," I explained hesitantly. Dumbledore nodded, looking as if my confusion was perfectly natural. I suspected that it probably was.
"Tell me, aside from transforming any metal into pure gold, do you know what else a Sorcerer's Stone is capable of?" asked Dumbledore. I shook my head.
"A Sorcerer's Stone," Dumbledore began, "is the only proven source of the elixir of life. It renders the user of the Stone immortal."
"So you mean the owner could never die?" I asked. Dumbledore chuckled.
"That is the general idea, yes," he consented amicably.
"But, Professor, I still don't understand what that has to do with my dream," I admitted, "Are you saying that the stone mentioned in my dream is a Sorcerer's Stone?"
"That is exactly what I am alluding to," Dumbledore answered triumphantly, "You see, earlier this month, someone broke into Gringotts with the intention of stealing the only known stone in existence."
"Is that the break-in that was in the Daily Prophet yesterday?" I asked. Dumbledore nodded.
"You are more informed than I had originally thought," he told me, "I must say that I am quite impressed." I blushed at the compliment.
"But whoever it was, they didn't succeed did they?" I guessed, "The prophet said that nothing was taken. It said that the vault in question had been emptied earlier that very same day."
"Once again, you are correct," Dumbledore told me cheerfully, "And can you guess where the Stone might be hidden at this very moment?" I though about this question carefully. I remembered my mother telling me that there was no safer place to keep something than at Gringotts, except perhaps…
"It's here, isn't it?" I guessed, "That's why no one is allowed in the third floor corridor; that's where it's hidden!" Dumbledore laughed merrily and granted me a small round of applause.
"Oh bravo Ms. Black," he congratulated me, "I do believe that you are one of the brightest students I have ever met, and that my dear is saying something." I blushed once more.
"So that is what I saw in my dream?" I asked, "Someone is going to try to use me to steal the stone?" Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave once more.
"I'm afraid so," he answered.
"But who would be after the stone?" I wondered aloud.
"Can you think of no one?" Dumbledore pressed urgently, "No one who would be desperate to gain immortality?" I thought about this for a long time, but suddenly it hit me.
"Voldemort," I whispered in a horrified tone, "Voldemort wants to use me to get the stone." The answer seemed so clear to me now, that I wondered how I could possibly have missed it. Dumbledore remained silent. His silence only served to heighten my conviction that I was right.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him in a hushed tone, "I'm just a student, a first year."
"Because Ms. Black, I want you to be prepared for what is coming. You need to know so that you can be on your guard," Dumbledore answered, "And besides, I think you and I both know that you are far from being an ordinary first year." I nodded, still trying to absorb this information. Dumbledore smiled gently.
"I can see that I have given you a lot to puzzle through," he declared, "I believe you would do best to return to your dormitory and use the time allotted to think over things a bit more." I stood quietly, recognizing the dismissal, and headed for the door. Before leaving I turned to face Dumbledore again.
"Thank you, Professor," I told him earnestly, "For the warning." Dumbledore nodded affably and I turned to exit. The door close with a quiet thud behind me and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Fortuna Major," I said quietly. The portrait swung open to reveal the doorway to the Gryffindor common room, which was currently empty. I realized that everybody must currently still be in class. I decided to take Dumbledore's advice and use the quiet time to think about all that I had learned today. I climbed up to the girl's dormitory and collapsed on my bed, pulling the curtains closed around me and effectively shutting out the world.
I lay in my four poster bed quietly, thinking about what Dumbledore had told me. I was so used to the idea of protecting Harry, that I had never considered a situation where I might need to protect myself. The idea of me being in danger was hard to fathom. Why would Voldemort think that I could get past whatever spells and enchantments that were guarding the stone? It was true that I possessed a great deal more ability than the average eleven-year-old, but I was still only eleven. The idea that I could get past any spell cast by Professor Dumbledore or any of the other teachers at this school was preposterous…wasn't it?
How could I protect Harry if I was busy trying to keep myself from being captured?
"You can't," whispered the tiny voice inside me. I knew that it was right; I couldn't protect Harry to the best of my abilities and still be concerned with my safety. That was the first lesson my mother had ever taught me, albeit unknowingly. You have to be willing to die for the person you are protecting. I had learned that from her stories of Lily Potter, my godmother, who had given her life for Harry and me.
The answer was clear to me; Harry was my first priority, and I had to be concerned for his safety above my own. This meant that I would not waste my energies on protecting myself from whatever was coming. I would take everything as it came.
My heart beat rapidly in my chest, as if it knew that this decision could stop it all together. I didn't want to die, and I wasn't even sure if, when the time came, I'd be able to put Harry's life above my own, but I knew that I would have to.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled me out of my thoughts. Someone was coming. For a moment I tensed, prepared for a fight, but then I realized that it was just my fellow dorm mates.
"What do you think happened?" asked Lavender.
"Who knows?" answered Pavarti, "One minute she was sleeping like the rest of us and the next it was like she was having some sort of fit or something."
"Do you think she's….you know…alright up there?" I didn't need to see Lavender to know that she was pointing to her mind. I knew they were talking about me.
"Who knows," Pavarti answered, "She's definitely not normal. And what was up with her insisting on seeing Dumbledore?"
"Do you think she saw something?" asked Lavender.
"You mean like the future? I doubt it. I think she's just weird," declared Pavarti.
"Maybe we can ask her about it when she gets back?" suggested Lavender, "Anyway I'm hungry, want to head to dinner?"
"Sure," and with that I could hear their retreating footsteps on the stairs.
I was stung by the words of my dorm mates. I knew that I was by no means normal, but I had hoped that I could at least pass as an average eleven-year-old witch. Clearly I had not succeeded, and their words stung. It solidified my belief that if anyone ever found out the truth about my life I would be deserted. I was surprised to find a tear roll down my cheek. Hurriedly I wiped it away, sniffing.
The curtains flew open suddenly, revealing Hermione looking down at me with a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and sympathy. I stared up at her in surprise. I hadn't even realized that she had been in the room throughout the conversation between Lavender and Pavarti.
"You shouldn't pay attention to what they say," Hermione told me, "They don't mean anything by it."
"Seems to me they meant a lot by it," I muttered, refusing to meet Hermione's eyes. I felt the dip in the mattress as she sat down next to me.
"They're just silly girls," she told me. Don't let it bother you."
"I thought you weren't speaking to me?" I reminded her harshly.
"It doesn't mean I agree with what they said," Hermione answered, "I wish you'd tell me what is going on Lissa, but I can't hate you because you have secrets." I closed my eyes, willing myself not to break down. Hermione got up and began to move away.
"Wait!" I called, opening my eyes in surprise at my outcry. Hermione had turned back to me, a look of confusion on her face.
"If I tell you something, you can't tell anyone," I told her seriously. She nodded earnestly as she sat down once more on my bed.
"You can tell me," she assured me.
"You're right, I didn't learn that spell that healed Ron's nose from a book," I admitted.
"Then how did you learn it?" Hermione asked, confused.
"I lied when I said that my mom turned her back on magic," I explained, "She may have taken us away from the wizarding world, but she never stopped doing magic. She's the one who trained me."
"Trained you?" Hermione questioned, "How do you mean?"
"My mom's been training me in magic since I first showed signs of it," I told her, "I can do most beginner spells nonverbally and I know some spells that are fifth year and above."
"But why did your mother teach you all of this? And why is it so important that no one else knows?" implored Hermione. I sighed heavily, rubbing my temples to alleviate the headache I could feel coming on.
"Because she wanted me to protect Harry," I explained, "That's why she trained me herself, so that I could go to Hogwarts and protect him."
Hermione stared at me blankly for a moment. I looked away, wishing that I could take it back. I shouldn't have given her so much information; now it was only a matter of time before she told everyone.
"So let me get this straight," Hermione began after a long moment of silence, "Your mom has been training you since you were seven-years-old so that you can protect Harry?" I nodded.
"Why?" I looked up at Hermione, my face was closed off, and I knew she got the message. That question was off limits.
"Okay well at least I know why you're so much better in class than I am," Hermione murmured to herself. I laughed.
"That's what you think about?" I asked incredulously. Hermione shrugged.
"Now I know that you're not better than me so much as more experienced." I nodded.
"I won't argue there," I told her, "If it weren't for the past four years of training, I'd have a hard time keeping up with you." Hermione blushed, pleased at the compliment.
"So you won't tell the others then?" I asked. Hermione smiled
"No, I won't tell the others," she answered, "But you do realize you'll have to tell them someday, right?"
"Yes, I know," I responded irritably, "But I would like at least a few years without them all hating me." Hermione cast me a confused look.
"What makes you think that they will hate you?" she asked, curious.
"I'm lying to them, aren't I?" I answered as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You lied to me," Hermione pointed out logically, "And I don't hate you." I scoffed.
"I still don't get why you're still talking to me," I admitted. Hermione drew me into a hug.
"Just because you lied doesn't mean that you're a bad person," she explained, "Now come on, let's go get dinner. I think we've had enough serious talk for today." I tried to fight back my smile, but I'm pretty sure I failed. Hermione beamed at me in return. As we headed out I couldn't help but think that, annoying as she may get, Hermione was now the person who knew the most about me next to my own mother.
Hermione Granger had just become my best friend. Who would have thought?
Chapter three will be up as soon as I can manage it. I'm sorry if that takes a while. Review please! :)