chapter 6: icarus
The conversation from Friday evening had spurred just enough courage for Eleanor to finally ask Daphne Greengreass how to find the owlery.
Though the quick interaction wasn't exactly enough to encourage Daphne into a sudden warming to Eleanor or into declaring her as her newest best friend, it did seem to give Daphne a certain amount of pleasure to explain exactly how Eleanor could find the building. Eleanor had realized that Daphne enjoyed showing off, and explaining how to navigate the many passageways of the castle was an excellent opportunity for her to provide clear testament to her unfailing knowledge of everything one could possibly know about the wizarding world. Eleanor suffered through several stories about Mrs. Greengrass, who had apparently been a prefect, and a favorite of the potion master's, and had told Daphne that she absolutely must write a letter as soon as she could, because she wanted to hear all about Daphne's start at Hogwarts. So, Daphne had been given quite detailed instructions on finding the Owlery.
Unfortunately for Eleanor, though, Daphne had her own owl, so she wasn't sure which owls were available for Eleanor to use, but she guessed it was probably one of the brown ones. She assured Eleanor that she would know she had chosen correctly, if she managed not to be violently pecked.
Eleanor had also asked Daphne how owls know where to go, though she wasn't explicit in the reasoning behind her inquiry. Luckily, this was also one of Daphne's gems in her wealth of knowledge, it seemed, because Daphne explained that owls have their own kind of magic that allows them to find their intended target. Owls could be intercepted, of course, but it would only mean that the contents of the letter were revealed, because it was impossible for wizards to extract the locating knowledge of the birds. Daphne had learned all of this from one of Mrs. Greengrass's many socialite friends who had spent summers in France researching the exquisite magic of aviculture.
Eleanor was quite grateful that Daphne so enjoyed being a source of information, because she didn't seem to question once why Eleanor was asking. And if Eleanor had to play the part of the poor charity case who was raised in the brutalities of the muggle world to fit into the narrative that Daphne seemed to craft, then she felt relatively alright with that. At least it gave her answers.
The first owl that Eleanor chose did not attempt to savage her finger, so she figured she had chosen well enough. With what some might call an unnecessary amount of gentleness, Eleanor tied the letter around the bird's ankle, and sent it off with the instructions of William Capulet, London.
When Monday rolled around, Eleanor was met with a flurry of excited chatter in the common room from her fellow first years. She walked to the center of their attention, the notice board.
"That's ridiculous," Draco said, his pale finger pointing at the new notice. "Using the school brooms? As if we can't afford our own!"
Eleanor read the notice for the flying lessons they'd be taking, and felt the excitement begin to infect her as well. Finally. Something she would be good at. It was with the Gryffindors, as well, which meant, if anything, it was unlikely to be boring.
"Though," Draco said, his eyes once again fixed on Eleanor, "I suppose not all of us can afford our own brooms."
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him.
"Do you have a hand-me-down broom, too, Capulet? To go with your hand-me-down robes?" said Draco. "Sometimes I swear you're just as bad as the Weasleys."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "And what exactly does a broom have to do with flying?"
Eleanor was surprised by the incredulous look that spread across Draco's pointed face.
"I dunno, everything?" he said. "What are you on about? Planning on running out to the pitch and flapping your arms?"
Eleanor's eyebrows shot up… there was something fundamental here that she was not grasping. She turned quickly on her heel, aiming for the library, so she could come to a conclusion without Draco as audience.
But to her immense displeasure, she found Draco Malfoy quick on her heels and surprisingly alone for once.
"Haven't you heard of quidditch?" he asked, and he almost sounded sincere.
"A bit," she lied, hoping to shake him. She knew it was a sport, which was technically something.
"I'd expect since it's only the most popular sport in the wizarding world," he said, voice laced with condescension.
"Right. Where's your entourage, Malfoy? You sure you're safe all alone?"
"I'd almost consider that a threat if I didn't know how useless you were in classes."
"I don't need magic to know how to throw a punch."
"Has anyone actually told you that you're intimidating? Because I think I'm more afraid of Longbottom's toad."
"You're insufferable."
"Where are you running off to?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I was asking you about quidditch."
"I'm aware."
"You do know it's played on brooms, correct?"
"Obviously," Eleanor lied.
"Because that's how wizards travel. By broom," Draco continued, his voice nagging, like he was trying to chip away Eleanor's secrets. "So that's what flying class is for."
"I'm aware." She wasn't.
"Spend a lot of time flying then?"
"No," she lied. "I've a muggle dad, remember?"
"You're hiding something," Draco said, digging like a dog that had smelled a bone.
"Is that so?"
"Tell me."
"No."
"Is it to do with your mum?"
"You have quite a fascination with my mother, Malfoy."
"It's because I actually have a grasp of wizarding history, unlike the rest of the dunces in this school."
"And here I thought it was an Oedipal thing."
"What's that?"
"Nothing of your concern," Eleanor said, as they reached the potions classroom and Eleanor was struck with sudden inspiration.
"You're going to see Professor Snape?" he asked, his eyes suspicious.
"Mind your business, Malfoy."
The potions room was thick with some sort of blue haze. Professor Snape was perusing the shelves for ingredients, when he looked up at the sudden disturbance of Eleanor and Draco.
"Can I help you?" he droned, eyes flicking between the two.
"I'd like to request a meeting with you, Professor," Eleanor said. "Alone."
The effect was only to make Draco look more determined.
"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape asked.
"Oh… I was just walking with Eleanor, sir. Helping her not get lost, you see," Draco lied.
Eleanor glared at his feet, so their professor couldn't see.
"I see," Professor Snape said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "Then if you'll excuse us, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco scowled at Eleanor while Professor Snape led them into the small room behind the door toward the front of the classroom.
Its walls were lined with meticulously organized shelves, holding ingredients ranging from bat kidneys to something called Kneazle whiskers. Vials of all shapes and sizes were arranged in order, some as small as the nail on Eleanor's pinky, some as wide as the entire length of her arm.
"Usually, I ask my students to request their meetings ahead of time, Miss Capulet, but you're lucky to have caught me at a moment where the potion I'm brewing requires an undisturbed simmer."
"Oh… I'm sorry, sir."
"Have a seat, Miss Capulet," Professor Snape said, as he motioned to the chair across from his desk. Eleanor sat, watching the man as he swept his long robes about him, and sat with unnatural elegance at the tall backed chair across from her.
Eleanor felt her nerves dwindle in the cold office as Snape stared at her, quietly examining. She felt like he could see inside her, knew every secret just by each minute movement of a facial muscle.
"I… I noticed that we're to begin flying lessons this week, Professor," she started.
"Yes. That is a required class for all Hogwarts students in their first year," Professor Snape responded, his eyes raking across her face. Distantly, she wondered if he had ever met her mother.
"Well… I…"
"Surely, you aren't afraid?" he asked. "From what I've seen, most students are simply beside themselves to get their hands on a broomstick."
"No!" Eleanor gasped, before quieting. She wasn't afraid - she had that at least going for her. "No… I'm not afraid. But - that's the thing, Professor. You mentioned broomsticks… and… and I don't understand what broomsticks have to do with flying." She knew she was avoiding the true question at hand, but something in her made it quite difficult to ask what she really wanted.
In a way, it was all Draco Malfoy's fault. If he hadn't chased her out of the common room, she might have been able to find the answer herself inside of a book, instead of in the presence of one of her scariest professors.
But, for a moment, the unfriendly set to Snape's face dropped, and he looked just as perplexed as Malfoy had been. Before Eleanor could even truly take it in, though, something else flashed across his face, and his eyebrows rose to his greasy hair.
"I believe I'm beginning to understand these riddles you're giving me, Miss Capulet. Are you attempting to tell me that you might be an Icari?" he asked, announcing the word with a flourish.
"A what?" Eleanor asked, sure she had misheard him.
"You'll do well to remember to address me as 'sir', Miss Capulet."
"Oh! I'm sorry, sir. I don't believe I've heard that word before, though, sir."
Snape sighed heavily. "Icari. It is the term for a witch or wizard who is capable of unsupported flight. Are you attempting to tell me that you, Miss Capulet, are capable of such a feat?"
"Oh! Um, yes, uh, sir. I am an… Icari… I apologize, I wasn't aware that it wasn't something all wizards could do. Or… that there was a term for it. Sir." For a moment, Eleanor felt something of elation. She could do something that other wizards couldn't? Did it mean there was a part of her that wasn't truly useless?
"No," Snape continued. "It is, in fact, an exceedingly uncommon talent. It is one that is usually associated… with the dark arts."
And just as quickly, any excitement that had built in Eleanor was snuffed out of existence. Of course the one thing that made her momentarily feel special was something she had to fear. Everything there was to her seemed destined for evil.
"I… I wasn't aware, sir," Eleanor said, trying to hold back the disappointment from her voice.
Snape hummed, regarding her, and Eleanor was reminded of the feeling she had earlier of Professor Snape seeming to stare into her very soul. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing that she was: that it was no surprise that the daughter of Ottilie Hemlock was proving herself again and again to be following the destiny of darkness that had been so clearly laid out ahead of her. She wondered how Snape felt, if it bothered him to offer counsel to a student with nothing but awful ahead of her.
"Well… if you weren't aware that the ability to fly unsupported was unique amongst wizards, I'm guessing that you might not know very much, if anything at all about the ability. Is that correct, Miss Capulet?"
Eleanor's face burned. "Yes, sir."
"Well… a witch or wizard interested in unsupported flight can study many spells and charms to find the complicated combination that allows them to achieve it. It is not something that most wizards do attempt, however, due to the many dangers and risks that come with the attempt. There are some wizards, Icaris, who, however, are born with the ability. They share similarities with parselmouths, wizards who can speak with snakes, or metamorphmagi, wizards who can change their appearance at will."
"I didn't know about those, sir. Are they also associated with dark magic?"
"Parselmouths have a specific history that many would call dark, though metamorphmagi are often simply considered… lucky."
"Oh."
"Hmm. Well, I recommend further reading on the topic, as you might have expected. You'll find that there are several books written on the subject that may be of quite some interest to you. Details on history of Icaris of the past, limitations of the condition, dangers unique to those afflicted. All of these can be found in the Hogwarts library, of course. However…" Snape paused, his eyes scanning, "am I to assume that you are inclined to keep this ability of yours… discreet?"
Eleanor nodded.
"I understand. I will have the books located and sent to your bed, away from prying eyes, for you to read at your own convenience. And Miss Capulet, I do hope you realize that this is not a common policy of mine, and I normally expect students in my house to have the responsibility and common sense to look up books on their own. However, given the circumstances of your condition, I am willing to provide you with this one exception."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. Miss Capulet, there is quite a lot that you can learn about your talent. I hope you take the opportunity to do so, despite its particular… stigma. I would be quite disappointed to learn that you have let it fester."
"Yes… yes, sir."
"And then there is the matter of your upcoming flying lessons. As you will learn in your books, and as you likely have already guessed, learning to fly a broom for an Icari is quite unnecessary and generally ill-advised. I've heard it compared to attempting to boil fire. A dangerous pursuit with potentially disastrous outcomes.
"And on that note, you'll find that Icaris have been banned from any sort of official Quidditch match participation. So, I'm sorry to say, if you had any hopes of attempting to try out for the Slytherin team next year, then I recommend moving past those expeditiously. This has been Ministry law since immediately prior to the 1600s."
Another blow. Barely knew about the sport and already banned. Great.
"In addition to your incompatibility with broomstick-assisted flight, you will learn soon that the other modes of wizarding travel will also prove to be quite difficult for you. You'll likely find both portkeys and the floo network to be particularly unpleasant. You will have the most difficulty, however, with apparition. Most recorded Icaris, as you will come to find, have never been able to master the ability, and those that do, appear to run an extreme risk of splinching."
Eleanor felt absolutely defeated. A useless, useless dark wizard.
"Is there anything good about it then, sir?" she asked.
Professor Snape almost looked surprised. "Miss Capulet, you can fly."
Eleanor fell quiet.
"Now, two final matters. Before Thursday, I would like you to demonstrate your ability in the presence of the Headmaster. I will retrieve you when it is time, so you may await my word."
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" Eleanor felt queasy at the thought.
"Obviously. Although I would find it so stupidly ill-advised to attempt to lie to me about your ability, it would not be the first time that it has happened. Hogwarts has seen many students who think they can outsmart the school staff in an attempt to avoid their necessary lessons. Apparently a fear of heights is rampant among many witches and wizards."
Eleanor almost felt a small laugh.
"And for the final note… though it is up to you to decide how you conduct yourself amongst your classmates, as I explained earlier the Icari trait is one long associated with a form of dark magic. As I will be going out of my way to provide the learning materials on the trait to you through discreet delivery, I hope that you might choose to practice discretion in to whom you reveal this ability. Unless of course you desire adding another revelation to your name or you seek a level of fame to rival that of our local celebrity's. In which case, I would be quite disappointed."
Eleanor looked up. "I… wasn't planning to, sir."
"Well, if that's all then. Please await my word for your demonstration. In the meantime, I shall inform your Professors, so they are aware should there be any… questions."
Professor Snape stood up, and Eleanor followed him, as they reentered the now-empty classroom.
"Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate it," Eleanor said, and Snape nodded. She walked to the door, but before she could leave, she heard his dark voice begin again.
"And one more thing, Miss Capulet. Though Miss Greengrass appears to have an extraordinary understanding of first-year potions making, I will be quite disappointed to find your continued reliance on her for work that you should be able to compete yourself. I expect a stronger effort by my next class."
Eleanor felt her cheek burn. "Yes, Professor."
"That's all."
She sped out of the classroom, aiming for the library, not to check out books on Icari, but to maybe finally get her head around potions.