The light was fading in the Ravenclaw common room. Its' slow departure had turned the silver hangings grey, and they mused in the silence of the almost deserted room.
A figure was curled in one of the armchairs before the fire. Dill added a comma, and scratched her nose with the tip of her quill. The crackling of the fire almost covered a door creak. The shuffling footsteps that followed, it swept under the rug without a thought- though, if fire spared a thought to many of its' deeds, perhaps even Prometheus would not have found it in his heart to be so liberal, Dill reflected. She pretended to be studying her parchment intensely or thinking of what to write next- she left the decision to her observer. He did not wait to consider the question very long.
"Hello, Wendyl."
"Hello, Septimus" she replied, not bothering to feign any surprise.
" Already busy in our second week? Word has it you 'parted the waters' of some gang to rescue 'Zeus the other day." A log slid and crackled in the fire as the shadow passed before it and crossed towards Dill's armchair. " The story's obviously gotten a bit distorted. I assume you didn't have to wave a holy staff around, did you?" Septimus asked, half smiling. Dill gave a hollow laugh. "Very funny" she replied. "Your religio-historical timing is a bit off, though, you know. Holy staffs aren't very in vogue nowadays."
Septimus watched the smile flutter away from his chin dark and moth-like, and allowed himself to frown, his brows relaxing downwards to meet his nose. It was not a very cordial reunion, yet one could see from the creases on his pale forehead that the memory of the last one had not yet faded, before his features were compelled to tread these wearily lined paths once more.
"Was he alright?" he asked slowly, his vertically lengthened stance relaxing a bit. "He doesn't tell me about these things right now…which shows that family can be irksome, or invaluable."
He smiled gratefully at her, and Dill realized that this was her thank-you.
They attempted to talk a bit more, but in the gloomy common room their sentences ended shorter and shorter, as though they were reading a half torn paragraph, and soon short stops were replaced by an endless silence, who only paused, briefly, to gather steam to go on, and on.
Dill brooded into the fire. She was at length startled when her companion jumped abruptly. "You won't get anywhere that way, you know" he told her. His gaze traveled from the fire to her letter, and then wandered towards the window. "It's none of my business, of course, but…if you over-think things- which, apparently, you tend to do-" here he flashed her a look reminiscent of McGonagall. "Then you make it harder for yourself to do anything." He laughed suddenly, and Dill looked at him strangely. "Isn't it funny," he continued, "that the house we're sorted into, while supposed to be our strength, is also our weakness?" Dill nodded tiredly. "Bet you're good with the knocker" she replied. His head swung up and down vaguely.
"Dill, we're both different" he continued. "From our family, I mean. But you're even more different than I am. You, you've taken everything that's happened to you, good and bad, and clenched it tightly in your fist. You're going to use it, I know. I can't compare to that in any way, but as someone who's standing in a different place, with a different perspective, I can give you this advice. Don't let go of what you're holding. The fact that it is a thorn in your palm makes it all the more useful. Even when it hurts, don't let go."
He stepped towards the window. "I've said all that, despite not having seen my little cousin since she wore pigtails." Although his back was turned, Dill could've sworn he was smiling. She grinned despite herself.
"And I hardly know what her family may think of me."
A strand of the quill floated gently to the floor.
"Dill" he said. "I would like to make an observation."
"Septimus," she replied with mocking politeness. "You may."
He turned back to her, and for the first time she saw his face clearly in the flickering firelight. His expression was unreadable. "It is the nature of our problems to cause us dismay."
The cloudy early September weather was giving way to colder, but clearer skies, and Dill soon bid the clouds good-bye. The days felt easier, and lighter somehow. She had grown accustomed to her classes. The castle felt like home- a second home, she reminded herself. Somewhere in London, a small Pimlico neighborhood was awaiting her patiently.
She didn't see Seizeus again, and spoke to Septimus only in passing; but his words still seemed to glow like a talisman under her skin. She hadn't, as of yet, deciphered their most intricate meanings. However, they struck a chord within her, and she somehow felt that Septimus had known exactly what to say, and had picked that moment in front of the fire, months before. She still didn't know what the coming months had in store, but she would somehow find her way through them- and, she reasoned, unconsciously using Septimus' logic; -why should she create more mind blocks and hurdles for herself, when there were enough already? Hurdles that she would clear in time, it was true (though, past her newfound confidence, she wasn't quite sure how, yet.) Dill knew now that there was more to resolution than a few hasty foolish words under a hat. The knowledge made her feel a bit older, and slower- although, maybe that was the same thing.
That evening, Dill got up from her vanishing treacle tart and moved towards the large doors along with the rest of the noisy, post-prandial crowd. Through the tangle of full forms, she could just make out Pam and a tawny owl who perched on her shoulder. Remembering suddenly, she hurried over to them. "Could I ask a favour?"
Dill watched through the narrow stone aperture as Pam's owl took wing into the dusk, her letter clamped in its' beak. Its' owner had been more than willing to lend any fully-feathered related services, and she now stood beside Dill on the dropping-strewn owlery floor, uncharacteristically silent. Dill tried to hide her enormous relief, but Pam was uncannily perceptive. "It was important, wasn't it?" she said knowingly when Dill thanked her. Before Dill could stumble upon a better explanation than, "er-" Pam grinned at her and said, "Well, you should come celebrate. It'll be your first Puff party, right?" Dill blinked, confused. "Puff Party?"
"Yeah, in our common room. It's fun. Doesn't get too rowdy, either" she added, with a somewhat reassuring wink. "As thanks for the favor, maybe?"
Dill opened her mouth and expected a lengthy excuse to trip out over the lip, so she was surprised to hear only one word. The warm feeling, that of sliding into a fresh bath, unloosed itself from the gushing monosyllable who, in turn, unloosened her limbs, who gently opened path for the answer. She grinned. "Sure."
The Hufflepuff common room, by dint of being close to the kitchens, was able to procure substantial amounts of food at a fairly short notice. Dill discovered this when she saw the table of Fizzing Whizbees, sandwiches and butterbeer along the wall of the cozily bright common room. Not too hungry, she grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and followed Pam over to a knot of 5th years who seemed to be in some sort of general charge. Pam made introductions as they went, in the way some chefs flip pancakes. Dill could barely remember half of the people she'd met since entering the room. Most of them had greeted her warmly, if not sometimes a little bemusedly. Her conductress stopped squarely in front of a tall 5th year boy to introduce Dill, a little less haphazardly this time. He nodded and said, "You two just missed the Communal Circle, but the rest of the evening's relaxed." Here he paused to look at Pam a little questioningly. "Can't help feeling that you were late on purpose, perhaps? Eh?" Pam heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't get me wrong, I'll give people advice any day; but I'm pretty good at encouraging myself, thanks- and they take forever. Can't sit still that long." As if to prove her point, she jogged a tight circle around them in a twinkling, leaving Dill blinking. The newly introduced Stephen coupled a sigh with a good-natured grin and said, "I covered for you this time, but you should try to take them more seriously. You'll see; when schoolwork gets harder, you'll appreciate these things more." Pam puffed her cheeks out but said nothing. "And make sure you tell your friend about the clean-up process" he added offhandedly. "The house elves have enough work as it is." "I know" Pam replied automatically.
Despite pronouncing herself 'stuffed', Pam accepted all kinds of food offers, even some Cockroach Cluster that Dill was too afraid to eat, and regaled everyone with her impression of Professor Binns- which, somehow, was lively. Dill wracked her brain over this oxymoronic anomaly in between butterbeers, and decided that it was part of her companions' nature, and not, on the whole, really worth muddling over.
She was complaining tiredly to a bored looking second year about the fact that the Ravenclaw common room was unnecessarily hard to get in to, in comparison to Hufflepuff's, when a flaxen, cherry mouthed apparition floated before her eyes. The second year gratefully fled as the girl engaged Dill in conversation.
"I'm Hannah! I was there, you know, in the hall when, er… I don't know if you remember me-" Dill frowned, then nodded warily. "Yeah…"
The girl smiled, looking relieved. "I wanted to apologize for Penelope-my friend- you two are in the same house, right? But she said she didn't talk to you, much… anyway, I know she was a bit rude-" Hannah colored slightly, and Dill could see the effort it took her to say a word against her friend. With a bit of newfound respect, she continued to listen, nodding once in a while in a way that had very little to do with attentiveness. "…but she's a good person, honest, and I think it was all a bit of a misunderstanding…um, so…" Hannah trailed off, gazing worriedly at Dill, who realized too late that she had been dozing off. She cleared her throat hurriedly. "No- you're, um, right, sorry-don't worry-" an unnaturally loud laugh interrupted her, and Pam appeared, throwing an arm around Dill's shoulder. "Hey, Dill, you're spluttering tired-out of it-oh, hey, H-hannah- hope she wasn't boring you, er-" she suddenly seemed to run out of steam and clanked to a halt, looking a bit awkward. Dill grinned, shrugging with difficulty at Hannah, who flashed a dazzling smile back and disappeared presently as a tall form passed before her in the crowd. Pam made a strange gurgling note in her throat, and finished the rest of Dill's butterbeer.
Dill was still staring at the empty bottle sadly when the Hufflepuffs made good on their threat to start a dog pile. At last excusing herself, she disposed of the bottle as Pam had told her to and left, creeping along the dark, silent corridors like a small shadow. The castle seemed even darker than necessary in comparison to the cozily lit, lively common room she had just left, and it took longer than usual for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. The walls, having donned dark blue cloaks, seemed even more secretive and silent than by day, when they wore their marbled peach ones. She paused a couple times, heart in throat, when she thought she heard footsteps or a lone voice, and once had to hide behind a suspiciously handy tapestry as Filch glided by muttering darkly. Finally she made it back to the top of the spiral staircase. The eagle clacked its' beak, and Dill yawned, letting herself in.
The next day Dill worked beside Pam in potions. Pam's face was tired and her dark circles loomed strangely through the fumes emanating from her cauldron. Dill hastily stopped her from adding a palmful of uncrushed beetle heads to the potion they were supposed to be making, and redirected the sleepy girls' hands to their mortar and pestle. "Tired, are you?" she said, grinning, as Pam began to mush them slowly, ruefully. The other girl frowned, grumpy. "Stayed up 'till 12…I dunno what Stephen was thinking, he's usually more responsible…guess everyone had one too many butterbeers" she whispered, grinning slyly at Dill, who quickly disguised her laugh as a cough.
Dill began to look forward more to their lessons with the Hufflepuffs, but unfortunately they only had one class together. However, that would soon change. One morning when she was coming down the spiral staircase, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and pausing to brush a knot from her bangs, she saw a crowd before the small notice board. Peeking around several tall people gave her the garbled gist of a plain sign which said, from what she could make out; '…year flying les…and Hufflepuffs…ay.' She puzzled over this phrase aloud. The long necked Penelope Clearwater, who was standing by her, appeared to at once grasp that Dill was not practicing Latin, but was trying to figure out the new notice, and told her that they were to start flying lessons with the Hufflepuffs. This curly girl had become more friendly towards her ever since (as Dill suspected) Hannah helpfully put a good word in. Dill thanked her and walked away, excitement bubbling up in her stomach. Finally, flying lessons- and with the Hufflepuffs!
At breakfast she was so happy that she smiled broadly at a surprised group of Slytherins who were trying to pass by to their table. Detaching himself from the group, Seizeus walked up to her. Dill's grin became uncertain and pocket sized, for familiarity's sake. "This isn't an apology" he began before she could greet him, "but I've got the world's most nagging brother, and he wanted me to say thanks."
Dill, unable to take the sight of him shifting his feet and wrestling with an almost penitent expression, quickly begged him to think nothing of it. He looked at her appraisingly. "You haven't become very stuck up, for a Ravenclaw." "And you're still pretty nice, for a Slytherin" she retorted, half smiling. He shook his head as he walked away to join his cronies at the table beyond hers. "You have my dear brother to thank for that, little cuz."
The sky was bright and sunny, tingeing the pale clouds blue as the Ravenclaw first years walked out across the grounds. Dill tilted her head up, letting the breeze play with her hair. She looked excitedly towards the space where the Hufflepuffs were already gathered in a neat row before the sharp faced Madam Hooch.
They formed their own line in front of the Hufflepuffs. Dill, who was suddenly and weirdly self-conscious, had the mad, flashing thought that to an outsider it would appear that they were about to duel. Madame Hooch's strict voice didn't help. A couple of Hufflepuffs down, Pam winked at her encouragingly. Dill tried to smile back. The hectoring voice drifted back towards them. "Now, say 'Up!'" "Up!"
The broom jerked, then jumped into Dill's hand. She gripped it tightly until a broom was by gotten, by hook or by crook, into every other persons' hands, and listened a bit distantly to the next set of instructions, twisting the broom from side to side. After a few false starts and nervous giggles, Madam Hooch counted down and lifted the silver whistle around her neck to her moistly pursed lips. Dill kicked the ground, hard, and rose into the air.
The air rushed past her on its' way down to take her space on the ground- but she was going up. A laugh bubbled out of her with uncontainable glee as she rose to the level of a tree's crown, light as a feather, and then, leaning over the broom handle, soared forward, loop-de-looping through the clear air and feeling the wind catch at her face and stomach. The thin but steady broom supported her from underneath, and the headwind pressed into her temples. Pulling up and out of it, she nudged her splintery steed with her knees, arcing in a graceful parabola, and watched from her perch as her classmates whirled about below her in the sun, with differing states of panic and proficiency.
She was flying! Suspended on nothing, toes dangling downwards towards the ground but not even thinking of touching it. Realizing it again, she shot forward and for a furtive instant of rebellious joy let go of the broom handle, throwing her arms out beside her in wings and tracing the air with her fingertips as she flew over the impossibly yellow-green grass, the wind rushing boisterously into her face. Finally feeling a bit embarrassed, she slowed and let the sudden lack of gust toss her bangs back into her face, her robes billowing slightly about her knees as she turned back. She zig-zaggingly drifted slowly down to earth, swishing from side to side like a fallen leaf, reluctantly heeding the silver whistle's call.
Her first foot touched the ground, taking something out of her, and when both were reunited with the soft loam Dill stood still over her broomstick, mouth dry and windswept. I finally flew. Not just in dreams or on a borrowed toy broomstick this time. She actually flew. Her heart beating wildly with pulsing wings, she slowly brought her attention back towards the group and tried to listen. She really did try. But all she could remember later was Madam Hooch's dry remark as she felt the ghost of the winds' sting on her cheek, about Quidditch tryouts being a waited-for type of thing, and Pam's face when they started walking back towards the castle, her voice saying, "You're a really great flyer, Dill!"