Before we begin this story, let me make one thing clear: I do not endorse J.K. Rowling's views on transgender people. In fact, I did not buy Hogwarts Legacy, and will not do so, simply because I can't do that to my friends in that community. Fanfiction, however, is something I think we can take back from Rowling, since it doesn't require us to give her any money.

Anyway, enjoy this semi-SI tale I came up with the other day. Also, please tell me what you think.

The commotion in the Great Hall of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was absolutely palpable. Try as I might, even if I covered my ears, I could not drown it out. It had built into a crescendo of voices reading the paper, giggling about some cheesy inside joke, or even just praising (or complaining about) the food served.

I was one of those students who merely focused on shoveling food into my mouth. Quite frankly, social skills had never been my strong suit, and they were even less important now.

Maybe I can squeeze in five minutes of studying between classes. Gotta get ready for those exams.

That was what being a Thunderbird entailed, after all. It meant emphasizing the mind over the other parts of one's being - what those at a certain other Wizarding school across the pond might call a Ravenclaw.

Anyway, seated next to me at the Thunderbird table was one of my few friends. Amidst the general chaos and commotion of the Great Hall, I noticed him giving me a stone-faced expression.

"What are you mad about, Noah?" I asked quickly. "Did I do something wrong?"

Noah didn't seem to notice me. He kept his eyes firmly glued to his copy of the International Daily Prophet, not looking up for anything. A hydrogen bomb could probably have detonated near his face, and he still wouldn't have torn his eyes away from whatever was in the paper.

"What are you reading about, Noah?"

My friend shook his head, and I suddenly realized that something had to be off. Normally, Noah was one of the few people at Ilvermorny who would put up with my odd quirks - there were many of them. But the fact that he wouldn't engage with me at all didn't exactly bode well.

"Maybe I should read the room," I muttered, so quietly that I didn't think Noah would be able to hear me. But if that's what I'd been expecting, I was certainly naïve.

"It's not that" Noah replied. "Sorry that I didn't warn you about this."

"What are you talking about? Why would you need to warn me?"

In response, Noah glanced up at me with an expression that suggested utmost pity. It looked like he wanted nothing more than to say: I am so, so sorry. If I could make your day better in any way, I would.

But I still didn't get it. "I want to know the truth, Noah," I insisted.

My friend sighed again, then turned back in my direction. My sensitive ears could still make out the sigh even with the considerable noise surrounding us in the dining room.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes" I all but snapped. At the time, I didn't think much of it. Wasn't it better to know an inconvenient truth, rather than a reassuring lie?

Well, I would soon learn to be careful what I wished for.

Needless to say, Noah did not look pleased as he handed over the newspaper. He didn't seem mad at me, either, which made me wonder exactly what he'd been hiding from me.

The instant I saw the headline on the International Daily Prophet, my breath caught in my throat. I nearly choked on the last thing I'd eaten - which, given how horrified I felt by what I was reading, I couldn't even remember.

Suburban Couple Found Dead In Home: Terror Rocks Long Island.

I gulped, trying to remind myself that not all needed to be as it appeared. Maybe it was a different suburban couple the paper was talking about - why would it be my parents?

Still, there are times when you know the truth without even needing to be told. There are times when, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that something didn't happen, you just know, deep down, that the worst is true.

Mr. and Mrs. Labrador were found dead in their Long Island home early Thursday morning.

"That was yesterday," I muttered, though my teeth were chattering as though I were hypothermic. "My parents were found there yesterday."

In response, Noah handed me his napkin. This was probably so that I could use it as a tissue, but I wasn't going to cry yet. I think I was more shocked than anything else.

Against my better judgment, I kept reading. (Okay, who am I kidding? Even if I didn't read the rest of the article, my parents wouldn't be any less dead. They'd still be gone, and I'd still have to deal with the implications of their loss.)

The home contained signs of a struggle. Several lamps had shattered; whether they had been smashed against the ground or destroyed with a Stunning spell has not been ascertained at this time.

The body of Mrs. Corinne Labrador, better known as Connie, did not show any signs of obvious harm. This is evidence that her life was ended via a Killing Curse, the incantation of which shall not be written here. Given that the use of one of the three Unforgivable Curses on a fellow human being is punishable by life imprisonment, this is a significant development.

"Significant, huh?" I snorted without humor. My lungs felt like they were folding in on each other like flowers at dusk. I couldn't accept this; I just couldn't.

Mr. Frank Labrador, Connie's husband, was not nearly as lucky. Splotches of blood coated his body, and there were scars on his wrists. The Sectumsempra curse, for which the late Severus Snape is widely credited with inventing, may have been applied.

They tortured him. Whoever "they" are.

My hands balled up into fists, and I felt very thankful that I wasn't holding my wand at that moment; it would surely have snapped into several pieces if I had been. And that was important, because…

Whoever did this to my parents is going to suffer. I'm going to make them suffer for it.

My eyes clouded over with tears, and the general noise pervading the Great Hall grew far more intense. I could not make out individual words or speakers, because the voices all merged into one, much like someone speaking in tongues. It was far too much to take in.

"I shouldn't have - "Noah interrupted. "I'm so sorry - I could have kept it from you."

"Don't even think about it, Noah," I snapped testily. "You hiding their deaths from me won't bring them back to life. Especially not now."

"If you say so," my friend responded sheepishly before taking another swig of pumpkin juice. (Though he surely didn't mean it this way, the swig felt like he was rubbing it in. My parents, after all, would never get to sip pumpkin juice, or indulge in any of life's other simple pleasures, ever again.)

By now, the atmosphere in the room had changed markedly. This occurred slowly at first, as the other pupils at the Thunderbird table gazed over in our direction in order to find out what was the matter. A few of them glanced at Noah, then noticed that I must have appeared as distraught, or even more distraught, than my best friend. And then, invariably, their faces would fall as well as they understood.

Bit by bit, the general look of anguish spread across the dining hall like the "wave" does at a Quidditch game. And slowly but surely, I became the center of attention.

And I shivered, my hands becoming fists yet again as the reality sank in. Not only had I just lost my parents, thereby experiencing my worst nightmare, but my second-worst nightmare was also coming true: The. Whole. Hall. Was. Staring. At. Me.

My face blushed considerably, and I instinctively put my palm up to my forehead to check for a fever. (Supposedly, that technique wasn't very effective on yourself, but what did I know?)

If I just leave now, I'll go up to the Eagle Room and send an eagle with a letter. I'll tell my professors that I'll be grieving today. I just can't go to classes like I normally do, because I'm too beside myself. Yeah, that works.

I stood up from my seat, hoping against hope that this didn't get me much attention, and backed away from the table. Although I hadn't eaten even half of what I normally consumed at breakfast, I didn't think any more food would be anything but a hard, rocky lump in my stomach.

As I strode through the aisle, keeping my head low, my heart kept thumping in my chest. It was as though it were trying to get in a lifetime's worth of beats, as though whatever force had killed my parents was going to get me next. Once I had left the Great Hall, I broke into a run.

The halls of the castle were mostly deserted, but that was about to change once breakfast ended. It was a good thing that not many other students were wandering the corridors, because I didn't want to trample over anyone, nor did I want any students to wonder why Lucas Labrador was sprinting through the narrow hallways, seemingly without a care in the world.

I have to get to the Eagle Room, I thought. Before the caretaker catches me.

The Eagle Room was at the top of one of the castle's numerous towers, which would give me a pleasant view of the New England landscape. Of course, when your world had just been shattered as much as mine, "pleasant" is hard to come by.

Once inside the tower, and up the spiral staircase contained within it, I fell to my knees.

My heart's pace had quickened to the point that I was probably close to a heart attack. I put my hand over my chest, and I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I was about to die. Maybe I was about to join my parents in whatever came after this life.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. I wouldn't have to live without them for so long…

No, Lucas. Bad brain. Just get the job done. You can take a few days off for bereavement or whatever it's called, but then you have to live your life.

I entered the Eagle Room, a circular chamber that reeked of eagle droppings, cobwebs, and dust. No part of Ilvermorny Castle was well-maintained, but this tower was particularly nasty. In fact, the head nurse in the hospital wing often advised students with asthma to avoid this room, and to delegate the job of sending letters to others.

"Okay," I said aloud. "Where's my eagle?"

Falco wasn't hard to find, resting on one of the higher perches with his wing tucked in. Good thing I was tall enough not to need the ladder.

I found a sheet of parchment in the communal pile, as well as a quill right next to it. It wasn't my own quill, but it would have to do. Surely people would cut me some slack, considering the circumstances.

Dire Poofesure…

"Oh, shit" I muttered. "It's a Spell-Check Quill!"

That type of pen was infamous at Ilvermorny. They could be incredibly helpful while the charms that sustained them remained in place, but as soon as said charm wore off, they would spell words incorrectly, no matter how you wrote them. And the charm didn't last long, proving that their inventor had probably wanted to troll us all.

I shook my head. These quills were banned in academic settings, particularly for exams. That included my Ordinary Wizarding Levels scheduled for next month.

I can't take any time off. Not now. That'll only put me in a hole in terms of studying for those exams. And I can't afford any setbacks, not when my future is riding on them.

Seconds later, I checked my watch. To my dismay, I only had fifteen minutes until my first class. And not only was I on the wrong side of the castle, but I had to return to the Thunderbird dormitory to get my textbooks for Herbology, Charms, and Potions.

I had to hurry.