Aurore woke with a soft groan, hearing the faint sound of hushed voices as some of the first years whom she shared a dorm with spoke amongst themselves before leaving the room, ready for whatever the day had in store for them.
It took her a moment to rise and greet the day; the warm yellow and black patchwork quilts tangled around her body were much too comfortable.
Aurore sat up and rested her bare feet on the cold floor, gazing around the room with a shiver. She was the last one awake; the four poster beds that accompanied hers were bare, except for a male British Blue that lounged on Hannah Abbott's pillow – she was certain that he didn't belong to the said blonde, but was welcomed to roam nonetheless.
His orange eyes stared at her pensively as she sighed loudly.
Aurore strangely felt at home, as if the warm and welcoming ambiance of the room was easing her apprehension about waking up in a foreign place. She was certain last night when entering the common room she didn't feel as relaxed. Her things had been delivered to her room before she arrived; she was thankful for this, but her nerves were too jittery to unpack.
Maybe what I needed was to rest.
Or perhaps it was this particular house. The Sorting Hat was right to put her in Hufflepuff.
Waking up afresh, everything seemed better.
The dorm Aurore shared was small and round, but comfortable. Copper lamps cast a warm light over the beds. It came furnished with enchanted pictures, dressers, and a peculiar stand-up mirror that spouted compliments to anyone who stood in front of it. She almost didn't want to leave, but with breakfast starting soon, and then classes, she knew she had to.
Peering down at the end of her bed, she rested her tired eyes on Fleur and snorted. She looked comfortable, sprawled out on her side with her tail flicking back and forth.
"Don't wake up on my account," Aurore teased.
With a groan, she stretched her arms over her head and then stood, sauntering over to the oak writing desk across the room between the fourth and fifth beds. From what she knew, it was meant to be used by the entirety of the female first years as a means to write letters to their friends and families back home. Because it was the first day of classes – Thursday – a Prefect, whose name Aurore couldn't remember, promised to deliver the letters to the Owlery in the West tower for them, but under the pretense that the first years make time to do it themselves once the week was up.
It was a kind notion.
But what do I write?
Holding the quill above the ink pot a moment, Aurore considered not sending a letter home. It was only the first day; there wasn't much to say. She hummed a tune as she thought of what to write, then sighed and dipped the tip of the quill in ink. This was going to be brief.
Aurore wrote about the train ride and meeting Ezra, a kind Slytherin who in her opinion would have been suited better for another house. Then she wrote about the castle; the little bit she had seen walking to her common room and being sorted in Hufflepuff. Her parents were sure to appreciate the update and to know that she was behaving.
With her love, she sealed the letter and then wrote the address to her home in Westminster on the front. Leaving it in a pile with the others, Aurore quickly got dressed in a new set of robes with her house colors on them, having bathed the previous night in the private showers attached to the dorm. She then retrieved her curriculum sheet and sat on the bed next to Fleur, glancing over her classes for the day. She had Potions 1st period and then Defense Against the Dark Arts – abbreviated DADA – last.
"I have two classes today, and then I'm free," Aurore told Fleur as she stroked her fur. "I may wander the castle a bit afterward to familiarize myself with the halls for tomorrow, but then I'll be back."
She didn't have plans to explore much today, but soon she would. There was much to Hogwarts that Aurore wanted to know. What sort of history did it hold? What sort of secrets?
My curiosity will have to wait.
In the meantime, she needed to gather her supplies. It was a shame Potions class required so much; scales, cauldrons, and such. DADA; not so much.
Aurore made sure that Fleur had everything she needed before she left the room, having shoved as much of her equipment into her cauldron as she could. She stepped out onto the circular balcony overlooking the lower floor from the round wooden door that lead to her room and sauntered to the stairs.
The Fat Friar, a jolly ghost in 10th-century monk's robes who frequented the common room, greeted her as she descended. Aurore offered him a kind smile and used a plush chair embroidered in yellow and black to adjust her haul before she left the common room.
The strong scent of vinegar and maple permeated the air as Aurore entered the corridor where the kitchen was located. Several large barrels were stacked to her right; the key to unlocking the door to the common room was disguised as a large barrel. She was hard-pressed to remember the pattern in which they must be tapped on, hearing from Gabriel that whoever failed to do so was doused in vinegar and barred access.
I feel for the poor soul who has to carry that scent around on them.
Aurore couldn't decide if being doused in vinegar was a fate worse than being squirted in the face with whatever foul-smelling liquid Gobstones carried in them. Both seemed akin and terrible.
From the Grand Staircase at the end of the corridor, she hurried to the Great Hall on the main floor. There seemed to be over 100 students present, eating breakfast with their assigned houses; none of which paid Aurore much mind as she sauntered over to an empty seat. Setting her equipment on the floor beneath the table, she quickly filled her plate with scrambled eggs and bacon, then began to eat.
She hardly realized that she was sitting across from Hannah Abbott until the blonde cleared her throat.
"Morning."
Aurore hummed and gave her smile.
"Bonjour (good morning)."
"I see you have Potions class this morning too," Hannah mentioned. Her cauldron tinged beneath the table as she gently kicked her foot against it.
Aurore took a drink of orange juice, then shook her head.
"There's so much to tote around. And I've yet to find the class."
"You can walk with me if you like," Hannah mentioned. "Gabriel offered to escort us to our classes for at least the week."
There was a lot more to being a Prefect than Aurore had assumed. It must be tough work balancing classes and students. She admired Gabriel Truman for being so kind.
"That sounds lovely. Merci (thank you)."
For the remainder of breakfast, Aurore chatted with Hannah about topics revolving around the school, mostly their first-class Potions. She heard from a second-year, that the professor, Snape, was a bitter yet gifted wizard; Aurore was not eager to meet him, though she understood that if she followed the rules, then there was no reason for him to scold her. At least she hoped.
Gabriel stood at the double doors near the entrance to the Great Hall where the first-year Hufflepuffs could see him, calling those in need. Only a few gathered, including Hannah and Aurore, following him into the Central Hall.
"Pay attention because near the fountain over there is where I will meet you once the class is over," Gabriel stated as he pointed toward a beautiful ornate statue with denizens of the wizarding world on it. "If you happen to get lost, ghosts are roaming the halls you might ask, though I'd take everything Peeves says with a grain of salt."
"Who is Peeves?" Aurore asked in a whisper.
Hannah brought her shoulders up and hummed in uncertainty.
Whoever he was, Aurore was going to attempt to stay clear of him. She figured she'd know him when saw him.
Walking side by side with the blonde, she followed Gabriel down to the Dungeons where the Potions classroom was; the temperature was much colder than the rest of the castle. He left them at the door and sauntered away after a brief reminder to meet him at the fountain.
Aurore was shocked to see students from Ravenclaw around the room; a familiar redhead grinned upon meeting her eye.
"Our house shares classrooms with other houses?" Aurore asked.
"Seems that way," Hannah answered.
She walked over to an empty desk and sat next to Ernie Macmillan, a fellow Hufflepuff with blond hair.
How strange.
Not as strange, however, as the Potions classroom itself. The walls were lined with jars of pickled creatures. Aurore stared at them in both awe and disgust until a presence loomed over her. She turned her attention to a man with long dark hair wearing black flowing robes that dragged the floor. His eyes were narrowed on her and she immediately knew he was the bitter professor Hannah told her about.
"Find a seat miss–"
Snape paused to raise a brow.
Her face heated up in embarrassment.
"Greenwood, professor. Yes sir," Aurore uttered, quickly finding her seat.
Niall sat directly across from her.
She gave him a pointed stare and then turned her eyes to Snape as he wrote on the blackboard, then turned to the class.
"The Furnunculus Curse... Otherwise known as the Pimple Jinx," he uttered. "A nasty dark charm that causes a person to break out in boils or pimples. Tell me, Greenwood... What potion would you brew to cure this particular curse?"
Why was he asking her? Aurore felt her face heat up in embarrassment having been put on the spot. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't grasp it.
I should know this.
Niall raised his hand, to her relief, drawing Snape's judging stare.
"The Cure for Boils does the trick."
Snape turned and wrote the answer Niall gave on the board, followed by a list of ingredients that he read calmly and out loud. He then faced the class again.
"Prepare your stations."
Disappointed in herself, Aurore walked over to an empty station that paired 4 cauldrons to a table and placed her supplies on it; Niall, Hannah, and an unnamed Ravenclaw girl with brown hair joined her.
Instructing them on where to gather ingredients, Snape stood around and watched the students saunter over in small groups to the supply cupboard in the corner of the room.
It was nerve-wracking, in Aurore's opinion.
She found the instructions on the Cure for Boils in her 'Magical Drafts and Potions' textbook and began with the first step; adding 6 snake fangs to the mortar to be crushed.
One by one, Aurore followed the steps, uttering them under her breath as did. Her curious eyes lifted to Niall a moment to check on his progress seeing him heat the mixture of crushed fangs in the cauldron. He seemed confident with his work, something she wished she was.
Leaving her brew to sit for 33 to 45 minutes, Aurore took her seat and began to study quietly until whispered to her.
"Scary one he is, no?"
Aurore raised a curious brow. Was he referring to Snape? She peeked up from her book to make sure the said professor was out of earshot before she shook her head to agree.
"No worries there. Yer doing fine. I heard that Snape is no easy professor to please; has never even awarded points before, only taken them away," Niall mentioned.
This didn't make her feel any better. Aurore took an uneasy breath and shut her textbook.
"You seem to know what you're doing?"
"Only because unlike yerself I was reading potion textbooks from the moment I could read," Niall explained. "I'm not good at much else."
Aurore felt the same, but with Herbology. She couldn't wait for her moment to shine; the earliest being Wednesday.
"I have to admit, ya had me in stitches when ya stood up to that welp Malfoy yesterday," the redhead brought up.
"He was being a snob," Aurore stated. She couldn't stand bullies. "But regardless, I never should have spoken out to him."
Niall snorted.
"No harm done. People like Malfoy; those only concerned with blood status deserve to be taken down a peg, especially when they mock half-bloods and muggle-borns. Think they're better than the lot they do."
"I'm... Not familiar with those terms," Aurore admitted. "I've heard Muggles used to describe non-magic-using people, but I have no idea what pure-blood or a half-blood is."
Niall was floored. He thought every witch and wizard knew those terms. How sheltered was Aurore? Was she muggle-born?
"A family or individual who is considered pure-blood is without Muggle blood. And as ya guessed muggle-born means a witch or wizard who was born to two non-magical parents."
"So, half-blood is a term that means one parent has magical blood and the other doesn't," Aurore added.
She understood then what Ezra had meant on the train. It was a shame that students at Hogwarts felt this way. Status shouldn't matter.
"I'm half and half. My Dad is a wizard and my Ma is a Muggle," Niall mentioned.
Strange. Why did Aurore's parents never explain this to her? Was it because she was considered pure-blood with Veela ancestry?
"I feel like knowing these things is important," Aurore mentioned with a soft sigh. "But it doesn't matter either way to me."
Perhaps her parents wanted her to learn certain lessons on her own.
Niall snorted and stood from his desk.
"Yer right about that. Come on. Once our brews are done, I'll show ya how to ace this lesson and blow the robes right off ole Snape."
Aurore grinned. She'd never say no to the possibility of making a new friend.
I certainly wish it had been Felix Felicis we brewed in Potions class this morning. Perhaps then the remainder of this day wouldn't have to be so awkward.
Something about DADA turned Aurore off about the subject. Perhaps it was because the entire room stank of garlic, or perhaps it was because her house had to share the class with Slytherin.
To make matters worse, Draco had sat directly across the room from her. Unintentional or not, he was making her uncomfortable. The first thing he did when he sat down gave her a spiteful look, one that came off pompous and read, 'you shouldn't have spoken out to me.' It was childish in Aurore's opinion.
He didn't have to be a jerk to Ron, that was his fault.
Aurore tried to pay him no mind, glancing around the room as the professor sat up for the lesson, having his back to the class. It was opposite of Potions, warmer for one since Classroom 3C was located on the third floor and not in the dungeons.
An iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, as well as a dragon's skeleton that Aurore found intriguing. She rather liked the exotic ambiance, minus the odor.
"W-welcome first years," Quirrell, the professor uttered. "We're going to s-start by reviewing the Curse of the Bogies. This curse is p-particularly vicious because it can give the recipient a n-nasty cold and an extremely r-runny nose that could cause the victim to collapse if it is not treated."
Aurore wasn't sure what she felt about Quirrell. He was a timid man wearing a turban that seemed to be frightened of the students, so much so that when one asked him how he was fairing, he could hardly get through the sentence without stuttering.
"Are we going to learn how to cast Curse of the Bogies?" Draco asked suddenly. He gave a smirk that didn't go unnoticed by Aurore.
Was he up to no good?
She immediately raised her right hand, drawing the attention of the nervous professor.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to interrupt Professor, but I read that the Pepper-up potion could cure the effects of the Curse of the Bogies. Isn't there another, however?" Aurore asked.
She was well aware that the blond was staring her down; she could see him from the corner of her eye.
"That's r-right," Professor Quirrell uttered with a smile. "The Antidote to Common Poisons is r-reported to work... b-but we'll get to that momentarily. S-splendid knowledge."
He continued to explain the curse, but Aurore ignored him; she didn't even care that he didn't award her points for knowing the counter-curse. Averting her eyes to Draco, she grinned at the annoyed expression on his face.
Try me.
It was not the wisest thing to do to provoke him, but she couldn't help it. Draco was a rude brat and Aurore couldn't stand the fact he walked around with his nose in the air, treating everyone with disdain.
His silver-gray eyes turned back toward the professor, giving her the chance to relax. Aurore took an uneasy breath and leaned back in her seat.
How did it come to this? She didn't mean to make an enemy, but honestly given Draco's views, according to Niall, he was an enemy to most. It was inevitable.
I feel like a complete liar.
She had told her parents in her letter that she was behaving and doing the best she could. Aurore was trying, she was, but with her experiences with bullies in the past, she knew ignoring them didn't always solve everything. Neither did provoking them.
Perhaps she should do the right thing and try to make amends with him. Her parents wouldn't want her to continue poking the bear.
In the pit of her stomach, however, she knew things with him wouldn't get any better. Aurore had a target painted on her back and Draco was aiming for the bullseye.
She didn't know it yet, but her school year was about to get much more hectic.