Chapter 11 – tans fade but memories abide
The sun's early rays peeked through the heavy curtains, casting a soft golden light across Tracey's room. Daphne stirred, slowly blinking her eyes open. Her first thought was the comforting weight curled at her side — Jingles. Her heart filled with a warmth that dispelled the early morning chill as she reached down, her fingers gently stroking his sleek black fur.
"Jingles," she murmured, her voice hushed as if she feared shattering the serene morning quiet. His only response was a sleepy rumble, the vibrations a comforting rhythm beneath her fingertips. She smiled, the relief that he was here, safe, was like a balm for the lingering anxiety from the past day.
Communicating through their special connection, she asked, "Are you feeling okay, Jingles?"
His response was a buoyant feeling, an unspoken joy that made her laugh softly. "I feel great, Daphne," he replied, a sort of contentment radiating from him that she couldn't help but feel. "Like I have an endless supply of magic."
"You remember anything about what happened?" she queried, a hint of concern threading her thoughts.
There was a pause, and then he sent a vivid image of panic, a sensation of being yanked through space, and then nothingness. "I...disapparated us, didn't I?" he asked, a note of disbelief in his mental tone. "After that, I can't remember anything."
She nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see her. "You did," she confirmed, her thoughts gentle. "You overexerted your magical core, Jingles. You were unconscious. Mrs. Davis found a lock on your core, but seeing that you are better I guess she managed to remove it."
The information was met with silence, and then a faint hum of surprise. Daphne waited patiently for his response, her hand never ceasing its gentle strokes over his midnight fur.
The response from Jingles came a beat later, a wave of mental acknowledgement, tinted with a slight confusion. "We'll discuss this later," he suggested, the mental echo of his voice filled with a promise of further conversation.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Our connection feels stronger. Have you noticed?" There was a hint of curiosity in his words. His next question took Daphne by surprise, "What are you feeling jealous about?"
Daphne's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked across the room where Hermione and Tracey lay, still wrapped in the cocoon of sleep. She felt a slight heat creep up her neck, not expecting such a question. "You can sense my emotions now?" she asked, a note of surprise colouring her thoughts.
A soft sigh escaped Daphne as she watched her slumbering friends. The flicker of jealousy she felt was strange, yet undeniably real. "Well," she hesitated, her mental tone mirroring the blush on her cheeks, "I guess... I'm envious of their...you know...chest. They have...breasts, Jingles. And mine... well, they're not quite there yet." She finished awkwardly, her young mind finding it difficult to discuss such a topic, even with her magical feline companion.
Jingles' response was immediate, his mental tone brimming with reassurance, "Well, that's a bit silly, don't you think? They are a year older than you, after all. Besides, everyone grows at their own pace, Daphne. Give it some time, you'll catch up." His words were the comforting voice of a friend trying to ease her worries. Daphne couldn't help but smile at his response, the warmth of the early morning sun flooding the room, mirroring the reassurance that his words brought to her.
"Try focusing on our connection, Daphne," Jingles' mental voice was soft, like a whisper in her mind, "Let your senses blend with mine. You should be able to feel what I'm feeling."
Daphne closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration. She envisioned their bond, a vivid blue thread in her mind's eye, pulsating with life. She gently reached out, her mental fingers brushing against the pulsing energy, and instantly a rush of emotions flooded her senses.
Joy was the most vibrant feeling, a warm, dazzling sensation that reminded her of the first rays of sunlight, golden and tender. But beneath that were undertones of confusion, a cloudy swirl of feelings that made her mind feel fuzzy. And there, lying subtly beneath, a thin line of fear, sharp and cold as an icy draught.
"Why are you scared, Jingles?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she felt his fear seeping into her.
His response was slow, as though he was carefully choosing his words, "It's about that night. Halloween '81. The memory is clearer now, but not complete. More fragments of the puzzle are coming together, but they've only raised more questions. Let's discuss this later, when everyone is awake."
As the morning unfolded, Hermione was the first to wake, her bushy hair a wild halo around her head. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes before they focused on Jingles. A wide smile spread across her face, "Jingles! You're back!" she exclaimed, reaching out to stroke his sleek fur.
Tracey was next, her brown eyes fluttering open to the sight of Hermione happily petting Jingles. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before her gaze landed on Jingles, and a giggle bubbled from her lips, "Jingles, you little scamp! You scared the hell out of us."
The Davis's dining hall was filled with the comforting aroma of breakfast – the salty tang of frying bacon, the buttery scent of toasted bread, the sweet fragrance of fresh fruits. It was a symphony of smells that made their mouths water. Seated around the large mahogany table, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, Hermione, Tracey, Harry, and Daphne made for a bustling breakfast crowd. Daisy was curled up elegantly on her chair, a content purr vibrating through her body, while Jingles had found a cosy spot right beside Daphne.
Plates piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast spread with a variety of jams and butter, and fresh fruits passed around as light-hearted chatter filled the air. The delicate clink of cutlery, the soft laughter and occasional thump of a tail from an excited Jingles provided the backdrop to a cheerful meal.
Post the hearty breakfast, the group migrated to Tracey's room. The high spirits from the meal were carried over, and despite the serious discussion they were about to delve into, there was a sense of shared comfort and camaraderie among them.
Harry, his bright green eyes thoughtful behind his glasses, turned his attention to Jingles. "So, Jingles," he started, "how do you feel now? Anything different?"
A split second passed, and then several of Tracey's textbooks rose from the shelf, hovering in the air. "I feel great, Harry," Jingles replied through Daphne, a subtle note of pride in his mental voice.
The display of magic elicited a series of impressed noises from the group. Even Hermione, who was usually very composed, couldn't hide the spark of excitement in her eyes.
Hermione's excitement, however, quickly morphed into curiosity. "But why would someone put a lock on Jingles? What's the point of such a thing?"
Tracey leaned back, folding her arms. "They're usually put on toddlers who show strong magical power," she explained, her face showing her deep concentration. "You know, to prevent dangerous accidental magic. But I can't understand why someone would put one on Jingles."
Jingles' mental voice chimed in, laced with a palpable sense of disquiet. "I suspect it was Dumbledore," he transmitted, his typical tranquillity tinged with a distinct firmness. "The other professors... they tend to disregard my presence, discussing whatever they like, oblivious or simply indifferent to the fact that I might understand."
His mental tone dipped lower, a ripple of suspicion threading through it. "Dumbledore, on the other hand, acts as if he knows I can comprehend their words. As if he's constantly aware of my presence and is cautious because of it." Daphne felt the weight of his silent contemplation, a heavy pause before he added, "As if he's guarding against me."
Harry frowned, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Why would Dumbledore do something like that, though?" he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.
Daphne's face hardened, her eyes clouded with suspicion. "Don't forget, he tried Legilimency on me after the troll incident," she reminded them, her voice icy. "Probably to find out more about Jingles."
Hermione, ever the voice of reason, quickly interjected, "Maybe he was just trying to protect us. Dumbledore is known for making difficult decisions in the name of safety."
Despite the heat of the discussion, they eventually decided to drop the topic. There was no hard evidence against Dumbledore, and speculating about his intentions wouldn't lead them anywhere. They sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts about the revelations.
The quietness of the room broke as Jingles' mental voice bounced in Daphne's mind, "Tracey, do we have a Pensieve?"
Tracey's brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her features momentarily before understanding dawned on her. "Yes," she responded, her voice reflecting her curiosity. With a crisp command, she summoned Tippy, their house elf, and asked him to fetch the family Pensieve. With a snap of his fingers, Tippy disappeared, returning moments later with a shallow stone basin. The Pensieve materialised in the room's centre with a soft 'plop', its silvery contents stirring slightly with the motion.
Daphne moved closer to Jingles, who had settled comfortably next to the Pensieve. Her slender fingers fished out her wand from her pocket. She held it up, pointing it delicately towards Jingles, her lips muttering a barely audible incantation. The tip of her wand glowed, and slowly a wisp of shimmering silver substance began to form. It danced and twirled around her wand's tip before Daphne smoothly drew it out, holding the captured memory aloft like a fragile soap bubble. With measured grace, she leaned over the Pensieve, and let the memory drop into it.
The Pensieve's silvery contents rippled, the surface shimmering as the memory took hold. It swirled like a vortex, drawing them in. One by one, each of them dipped their heads into the pool, their forms disappearing from reality into the memory's realm.
The memory was the clearest rendition of the fateful night of Halloween 1981 they had seen so far. It was a poignant spectacle, and when they emerged from the Pensieve, the room was heavy with mixed emotions.
Tracey broke the silence, her voice resonating with youthful excitement, "Oh, Jingles! You were such a cute kitten!" She gushed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she recalled the image of a much younger Jingles.
Daphne chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Didn't you notice anything off? Like his eyes being yellow instead of blue?" she asked, her tone laced with playful sarcasm.
Daphne's revelation left Tracey flabbergasted, her cheeks flushing as she glanced towards Jingles, scrutinising his blue eyes with newfound realisation.
Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as she asked, "But what does that mean, Jingles? Did you maybe have a brother who had yellow eyes? Or, did your own eyes change colour? This is all just so weird."
In response, Jingles seemed a bit perplexed. "Honestly, Hermione, I don't know. I'm just as surprised and puzzled as you all are."
Their attention veered towards Harry, who had been silent all this while. His face was pale, his emerald-green eyes glistening as they stared blankly into the Pensieve. He seemed lost, a thousand miles away, shaken to his very core.
"That was the first time..." Harry's voice was soft, just above a whisper, trembling with raw emotion, "the first time I heard my mother's voice." The room fell into a sombre silence, his revelation hanging heavy in the air, casting a solemn veil over their discovery.
Silence echoed in the room following Harry's whispered revelation. A profound sorrow wove through their bond, tugging at their hearts. Daphne was the first to move, extending a gentle hand to squeeze his. She didn't have to say anything; her azure gaze conveyed her sympathy more effectively than words.
Jingles padded forward, his sleek, black fur brushing against Harry's hand. He butted his head against Harry's knee, a silent gesture of comfort. Tracey and Hermione shared a glance, then both moved to Harry's sides, sandwiching him in a warm hug. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a reminder that despite his bravado, Harry was just a boy who'd lost too much.
Jingles thought about revealing what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, but the tense atmosphere along with his own fear of telling them denied him. He would tell them later, at a better moment, after he had steeled himself.
When the moment had passed and the atmosphere began to lighten again, Hermione turned to Jingles. "How did the memory become clearer?" she asked, curiosity shimmering in her eyes. Jingles paused, gathering his thoughts before transmitting his response through Daphne.
"When my magical core unlocked, a surge of magic coursed through me, making the memory clearer. I'm hoping that I can recover the rest of it eventually," Daphne relayed, her words accompanied by a palpable hope that floated in the air.
Tracey, ever the one to pivot the mood, chimed in with her usual ebullient spirit. "Enough of the gloom, let's talk birthdays! They're all coming up, aren't they?" she said, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Harry's was next week, followed by Daphne's a week later, while Hermione and Tracey would celebrate theirs in late September.
With a clap of her hands, Tracey proposed a new plan. "Why don't we make a trip to Diagon Alley for some birthday gift shopping? We could do it in groups - three of us go out shopping while one of us stays at Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop and then we rotate through" she suggested, her enthusiasm infectious.
After a moment of consideration, the others readily agreed. After all, who could resist a trip to Diagon Alley and an opportunity for ice cream? There was an air of anticipation as they all stood, plans made, and began preparations for their unexpected venture. The lingering sorrow was replaced with excitement, and the promise of happier memories to be made.
~~~o~~~
Stepping into Diagon Alley was akin to stepping into a grand sensory carnival. The vibrant stretch of magical businesses throbbed with energy, brimming with witches and wizards that added a colourful vibrancy to the scene. Voices echoed with the rhythmic cadence of haggling, merchants called out the day's special offers, conversations bubbled excitedly from every corner, and the occasional distinctive 'pop' of apparition served as a punctuating reminder of the magic that swirled within the air.
The myriad of smells coiling in the air narrated their own tale of the busy Alley. The potent, acidic scent of potion ingredients wafted out from the apothecary, an olfactory cocktail of herbs, roots, and powders. From the bakery, an irresistible, yeasty aroma of fresh bread, its warm sweetness enough to make any passerby's mouth water. Even the occasional hint of burnt wood floated on the breeze, likely from some magical demonstration or another, giving the air an adventurous, unpredictable edge.
Amongst the chaotic charm, Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop was a delightful oasis of calm. Harry was first to take refuge, nestling into a corner table with a prime view of the street, an air of anticipation making his green eyes shine brighter.
As Daphne, Hermione, and Tracey - with Jingles comfortably nestled in Daphne's arms - navigated their way through the throng, they arrived at their destination: Quality Quidditch Supplies. The shop was a shrine to the beloved sport, its window display bristling with brooms of various sizes and models, protective gear, and Quidditch accessories.
In no time, Tracey had picked out a luxurious broom servicing kit, its box promising an array of brushes and polishes to keep a broom at its best. Daphne found a pair of high-quality Quidditch gloves, the leather as soft as butter. Hermione, always thinking ahead, selected goggles that were custom-designed for those wearing glasses. Once the clerk magically shrank their items, the trio returned to Fortescue's, their successful mission mirrored in their bright smiles.
The swapping was done swiftly, with Harry joining Daphne, who was still cradling Jingles, and Tracey for the next round of shopping. Hermione took Harry's seat, diving into her ice cream with evident delight.
Their next stop was the book lover's paradise, Flourish and Blotts. They were welcomed by the familiar scent of old parchment and ink, rows upon rows of shelves brimming with books of all sizes and subjects. Daphne's choice was a scholarly book on runes, a topic she hoped would interest Hermione. Tracey, playfully defiant, picked Lockhart's latest book, "Daring Duels: A Guide to Graceful Combat," hoping to convert Hermione to her favourite author's fanbase. Harry, focusing on their practical needs, picked a book on defence against the dark arts, Hermione's weaker subject.
Their purchases shrunk and safely tucked away, the group headed back to Fortescue's, their shared laughter and joyful energy spreading to the people around them.
Hermione then swapped places with Tracey at Fortescue's and joining Harry, Daphne, and Jingles in their quest for presents. Tracey settled in at a corner table with a generous serving of strawberry and mint chocolate chip ice cream - her favourite mix.
The group headed first to Gladrags Wizardwear, a riot of colours and fabrics with the unmistakable scent of new clothes wafting through the air. Daphne immediately selected a silver charm bracelet, its simplicity and elegance the perfect reflection of Tracey's personality. Harry, though slightly overwhelmed by the assortment of accessories, relied on Daphne's guidance and chose a beautiful hairpin adorned with tiny, iridescent moonstones that danced in the soft lighting of the shop.
Next, they made their way to Flourish and Blotts. Hermione led the group to a particular section, picking up a book she thought would perfectly suit Tracey's mischievous nature. "Hexes for the Hopeful: An Introductory Guide" was just the right mix of fun and practical - exactly the kind of book Tracey would enjoy.
Their purchases made and neatly tucked away, they returned to Fortescue's where Tracey was finishing her ice cream. Now, it was Daphne's turn to stay back. With Jingles comfortably settled in her lap, she ordered her favourite raspberry ripple ice cream, ready to savour it while Harry, Hermione, and Tracey went in search of her presents.
A cloud of quiet melancholy hung over Jingles as he nestled in Daphne's lap. She'd been half-listening to the enthusiastic chatter from a nearby table in Fortescue's, her spoon absentmindedly carving swirls into the raspberry ripple ice cream. Her attention was drawn down to Jingles, feeling his quiet sorrow flowing across their mental connection. His vivid blue eyes held a flicker of sadness, a stark contrast to their usual vibrant curiosity.
She tilted her head, her blue eyes reflecting concern. "Hey, what's up?" she asked softly, extending a spoonful of her ice cream towards him. Jingles hesitated, then extended a tentative tongue to lick at the cold, sweet treat. He jerked back almost immediately, a displeased grimace fleeting over his feline features. Daphne chuckled, despite her worry.
A pulse of emotion rolled through their connection, as Jingles confessed his feelings. His mental voice was tinged with sadness, "I don't know my own birthday, Daphne. You all are having such a great time picking presents for each other... I just feel... left out."
Daphne's heart tugged with sympathy. "Jingles," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I promise, we will celebrate your birthday, even if we don't know the date yet. And once we do, we'll make every single missed one count."
The vow eased Jingles' unhappiness, his ears perking slightly and his purring a soft rumble against her touch. The connection between them flared with warmth and reassurance.
While Daphne comforted Jingles, the remaining trio explored Diagon Alley. Harry picked out a stylish Holyhead Harpies jumper from Quality Quidditch Supplies. He imagined Daphne's blue eyes lighting up as she saw the emblem of her favourite Quidditch team.
At Gladrags Wizardwear, Tracey's face lit up as she found a silver bracelet that sparkled under the shop lights, its elegance a match for Daphne's refined taste. She couldn't resist the charm of the piece, unknowingly picking out an accessory that was a mirror to the one Daphne had selected for her.
Hermione, her thoughtful gaze scanning the shelves at Flourish and Blotts, selected a book that she hoped would deepen the understanding between Daphne and Jingles, her fingers gently tracing the embossed title, "Feline Companions: Caring for your Cat".
Their final purchase was a whimsical one: a single-use magical camera from a street vendor. Harry's idea of a group keepsake filled them all with a sense of shared camaraderie, his green eyes twinkling with anticipation.
With the setting sun casting long, gilded shadows over the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, they returned to Fortescue's. Retrieving Daphne and Jingles, they stepped into the swirling green vortex of the Floo network. The Davis Estate awaited their return, the memory of laughter and shared joy echoing in their minds.
~~~o~~~
Following dinner, the quartet made their way back to Tracey's room, their shared laughter and banter a soft echo in the warm ambience of the Davis estate. They arranged themselves comfortably on Tracey's bed, the excitement of capturing a shared memory radiating from them in palpable waves.
The silver-grey twilight streaming in from the window provided the perfect soft lighting, and Harry decided to position the camera towards it. Daphne settled herself against the bed's headboard, Jingles tucked up beside her, his sapphire eyes gleaming with curiosity. Harry sat on her opposite site. Hermione and Tracey flanked them, their cheeks rosy from the excitement and anticipation.
Harry readied himself to press the camera's button, his green eyes bright with amusement. Yet, the ever-mischievous Tracey had other plans. In one swift movement, she playfully raised her fingers behind Daphne's head, mimicking bunny ears. The room filled with laughter just as Harry pressed the button.
Instantly, the energy in the room changed. Tracey, giggling uncontrollably, launched herself at a pillow, heaving it into the unsuspecting group. A flurry of feathers and mirth ensued, the quiet moment transforming into a joyful melee of flying pillows and laughter.
The camera gave off a gentle, mechanical hum, reverberating subtly against the aged stone walls of their surroundings. An enchanted photograph promptly slid out, preserving not just a single moment but an animated sequence of their shared happiness.
The image first depicted their cheerful faces, their smiles wide and genuine, radiating a warmth that seemed to glow beyond the photograph's confines. It was an unfiltered display of their shared joy and contentment, a moment of peace amidst their exciting lives.
Then, the whimsical moment unfurled as Tracey, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, surreptitiously crafted a pair of imaginary bunny ears above Daphne's head. The surprise on Daphne's face quickly dissolved into a playful roll of her eyes, and the group's laughter echoed in the silence of the image.
The scene climaxed with Tracey dashing out of the frame and an unsuspecting pillow flying into the group, catching them off-guard. The flurry of movement, the defensive gestures, and the wide-eyed shock were all brilliantly frozen within the magical photograph, as lively as the actual moment itself.
As the group began to simmer down, their collective laughter still an intangible echo within the room, they paused to bask in the warm aftermath of their shared merriment. The picture, an enchanting testament to their bonds, was held with care, the moving images within capturing a brief but cherished chapter of their friendships. It was a fleeting, magical snapshot of their camaraderie, forever preserving the delightful chaos and joy of their shared moments.
The blissful camaraderie was brought to an abrupt halt when Mrs. Davis peeked into the room, a soft yet firm reminder of bedtime in her eyes. "Off to bed, you lot," she said, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. Harry bid his friends goodnight and returned to the guest room, his heart light with the joy of the day.
~~~o~~~
In a blink, Harry's birthday dawned upon them, the sun's early rays signalling the beginning of the day's celebration. Hermione, who had arrived at the Davis Estate the previous day, was already up, her eyes sparkling with eagerness. The air was filled with an infectious mirth as they celebrated his birthday; even the modest cake seemed to beam with delight, and the handmade decorations brought an added warmth to the occasion.
Opening his presents, Harry found his heart touched by the thoughtful gestures. A genuine smile lingered on his face, gratitude beaming from his emerald eyes as he thanked his friends. Each gift was a token of their affection for him, their choices reflecting a deep understanding of his personality.
Harry received an unexpected parcel, its sender revealed as both Hagrid and Professor McGonagall when he unfastened the string. Inside, he discovered a treasure trove of memories – a photo album meticulously filled with snapshots of his parents' youthful days. Each picture held a moment suspended in time, a ripple of his parents' laughter and shared smiles echoing from the past. As he traced his fingers over the candid moments of joy and affection, a wave of emotion welled up within him, moving him to tears. The album was a gift of a cherished past, a bittersweet connection to the parents he couldn't remember. His heart swelled with gratitude and longing, tears falling freely onto the glossy photos.
A week later, Daphne's birthday arrived, bringing with it another round of jovial celebration. Hermione was once again their guest, having decided to sleep over the night before. Amidst the joyous occasion, Daphne opened her gifts, an expression of surprise and amusement crossing her face as she unveiled the bracelet Tracey had chosen. She fought hard to contain her laughter at the uncanny coincidence; it would be an amusing surprise for them all on Tracey's birthday.
The last three weeks of summer then seemed to fly by, their days filled with shared moments that were destined to be lifelong memories. Hermione visited often, either leaving before dinner or sleeping over. They revelled in the warmth of the sun, the wide expanse of the Davis Estate providing the perfect backdrop for their summer adventures. The wind whispered through their hair as they flew through the azure sky, their laughter echoing amidst the clouds.
Chessboard battles became an evening tradition, the game pieces dancing across the board as Harry and Daphne delved into the intricacies of the game. Hermione and Tracey watched, fascinated by the strategic dance unfolding before their eyes, sometimes daring to challenge the victor.
When not flying or playing chess, they would lounge in the comfortable confines of the estate, books scattered around them, their shared laughter punctuating the hum of the summer afternoon. Jingles would often join them, his gleaming blue eyes watchful and curious. As evening descended, they would lie back, stargazing and sharing stories under the blanket of the night sky, the twinkling stars bearing witness to their growing bond.
In the final week before school commenced, they took a trip together back to the bustling, magical hub of Diagon Alley. There, amidst the cacophony of bustling witches and wizards, they procured their required school supplies, their purchases a tangible reminder of the approaching school year.
By the time it was their turn to return to Hogwarts, they were more than friends; they had become a tight-knit family. The summer days had woven a tapestry of shared moments and laughter, a collection of memories that would accompany them in the years to come.
~~~o~~~
On the final day of summer, Hermione had once again found herself sleeping over at the Davis estate. It was simply more convenient this way, making the early morning journey to Platform 9 3/4 a shared experience rather than a solo one. She alongside Tracey, and Daphne woke up together in the girls' shared room, nestled in their respective beds. The room was bathed in the soft early morning light, casting a warm glow over the evidence of their summer together. Books and clothes were strewn about, and their packed trunks stood guard by the door, ready for the adventure to come.
They each roused from their slumber, the excitement of the day causing their hearts to flutter. As they each rose from their beds, dressing in their crisp school robes, they shared excited smiles and whispers, their conversation a quiet hum in the dawning day.
Once ready, they each picked up their packed trunks and descended the staircase, meeting Harry in the living room. He was sat there, sipping on a glass of pumpkin juice. Upon seeing them, a wide grin spread across his face.
"Morning," he greeted, putting down his glass. "All set?"
"Can't wait!" Tracey replied, her voice buoyant. Her eyes danced with anticipation.
Daphne, cradling Jingles in her arms, shared her excitement through a gentle smile. The black cat glanced up at her, sharing in the moment.
They had a quick breakfast, the smell of fresh toast and the sweet tang of marmalade wafting through the air. Yet, with their trunks at the ready and the clock ticking, they couldn't afford to linger for long.
Mr. and Mrs. Davis stood ready at the hearth, offering warm hugs and well wishes. They each took a handful of Floo powder, stepping into the emerald flames that whirled them away to Platform 9 3/4.
The platform was a symphony of sounds, from the hushed murmurs of parents to the excited chatter of students. The girls and Harry said their heartfelt goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, feeling a bittersweet mix of exhilaration and longing.
The Hogwarts Express stood before them, its scarlet shell gleaming under the morning sun. They boarded the train, finally finding an empty compartment. Their trunks were safely stowed, and they all fell into the worn but comfortable seats.
As the train started to move, the scenery outside the window changed, the brick buildings of London replaced by the lush, verdant countryside. The compartment was filled with a sense of shared anticipation, a thrill of excitement that coursed through each of them. They were going back to Hogwarts, and they couldn't wait to see what this year had in store for them.
~~~o~~~
A few moments earlier at Greengrass Manor – Astoria's POV
Astoria Greengrass stood in the grand foyer of Greengrass Manor, her heart pounding with anticipation. It was her first year going to Hogwarts and she was eager to begin. Her parents, cold and elegant as always, were at her side. She looked at them with a mix of apprehension and excitement, her hands tightly gripping the handle of her trunk.
"Remember, Astoria, blood purity is the most important thing," her father's stern voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room. His words held an undercurrent of warning, "Don't associate with any Mudbloods. And if Daphne acts out of line, or gets too close to any... undesirables, write us immediately."
Astoria could only nod, swallowing the knot in her throat. The pressure was intense, but she was used to it. This was the way of her family, after all.
Summoning her courage, Astoria grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the porcelain dish on the mantel. Stepping into the emerald blaze of the fireplace, her heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," she pronounced distinctly, and was swallowed by a vortex of emerald fire.
Emerging into the bustling hub of Platform 9 3/4, Astoria was hit by a wave of excitement and bewilderment. Families huddled together, students called out to one another, and the air was filled with the raucous hoots and squawks of owls and other magical creatures.
With the noise of the station fading behind her, Astoria boarded the Hogwarts Express, its scarlet paint gleaming in the morning sun. She began the task of searching for a compartment, passing by ones brimming with older students and raucous boys, her eyes landing on one containing two girls of her age. The one with fiery red hair and a dusting of freckles was chatting animatedly, while the other, a blonde with dreamy, far-off eyes, seemed lost in thought.
Astoria knocked gently on the compartment door, meeting their curious gazes as she asked, "May I sit with you?"
The redhead's face broke into a warm grin. "Of course!" she chirped. "We could use some company. Come in!"
Astoria settled into the compartment, her trunk stowed neatly overhead and her cloak resting on her lap. The redhead turned to her, her brown eyes sparkling with warmth. "I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley," she introduced herself, extending a hand towards Astoria. The blonde looked up from her dreamy daze, a serene smile playing on her lips, "And I'm Luna Lovegood."
"I'm Astoria Greengrass," Astoria replied, a careful neutrality in her voice as she met each of their hands in turn. She took in her new companions, their diverse backgrounds a stark contrast to her own sheltered upbringing. The compartment settled into a warm hum of conversation as the train began to move, the landscape outside starting to blur. Astoria, Ginny, and Luna started to talk about Hogwarts, their voices filled with eagerness and expectation.
Astoria, still a bit shy, was drawn in by Ginny's fiery enthusiasm and Luna's calm curiosity. Both girls spoke excitedly of Hogwarts, their sentences filled with wonder about the magical castle they were about to call home.
"I'm really excited about Hogwarts," Astoria ventured, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her robes. "The castle must be amazing."
Ginny nodded with such fervour her fiery red hair bounced. "I've heard so many stories from my brothers," she said, "I feel like I already know the castle."
Astoria smiled at Ginny's energy and turned to Luna, who was staring out of the window, seemingly entranced by the passing landscape. "What about you, Luna?"
"The castle sounds magical," Luna replied, her gaze still focused on the scenery. "But it's the mysteries inside I'm looking forward to."
A hint of curiosity glinted in Astoria's eyes, accompanied by a small smile. "The Greengrass line has been pure-blood for as long as our family records go back. Is it the same for your families?"
A fleeting shadow crossed Ginny's freckled face, but she quickly recovered with a nod. "Yeah, the Weasleys are a pure-blood family too. We don't buy much into all the blood supremacy stuff, though."
Unruffled by the delicate turn in conversation, Luna offered a serene nod of her own. "Yes, the Lovegoods are also of pure-blood heritage. Though we've always been a bit... eccentric, one might say."
Astoria was quick to clarify, a touch of embarrassment lacing her words. "I didn't mean to imply anything, I apologise."
Ginny responded with a light-hearted chuckle. "No worries, Astoria. We're all getting to know each other here."
Astoria felt a wave of relief wash over her. Both of them were pure-bloods, just like her. She could continue to befriend them without breaking her family's strict rules. At that moment, Astoria realised how ridiculous these rules felt. All she cared about was the kindness and acceptance she was receiving from Ginny and Luna.
Ginny, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight filtering through the window, leaned forward in her seat, an eager look on her face. "Do you have any siblings, Astoria?" she asked, curiosity flickering in her warm brown eyes.
Astoria's expression flickered momentarily, a subtle shadow passing over her eyes. "Yes, I have an older sister, Daphne," she responded. Her fingers absent-mindedly twisted the hem of her robes as she continued, "But we... we aren't exactly the best of friends." The statement hung in the air, a ripple of unease revealing more than her words.
Observing the momentary tension, Luna, with her misty grey eyes that seemed to miss nothing, subtly steered the conversation towards a safer subject. Her dreamy voice carried an oddly comforting rhythm as she mused aloud, "I wonder which house we'll all end up in. I've read the Sorting Hat's songs and they all seem to be so full of mystery and wisdom. Do you have any preferences?"
Ginny's enthusiasm broke the quiet that had fallen. "My whole family has been in Gryffindor," she admitted, her voice vibrating with hope and slight nervousness. "I hope I get in there too."
Astoria, her own thoughts on the subject beginning to form, listened attentively. She tilted her head, letting the sunlight catch the brown strands of her hair. "I don't know, really. My family's been sorted into both Slytherin and Ravenclaw in the past. I think I'd be fine with either."
Luna, with a serene smile on her face, chimed in. "The Lovegoods have been in Ravenclaw for generations. I believe I might end up there too. But I'll be happy wherever I end up, as long as there's a place to dream and wonder."
As the train chugged steadily onwards, the compartment filled with warm laughter and eager voices. The conversation ebbed and flowed, softening the edges of the unknown that lay ahead. They shared their hopes, fears, and dreams for the upcoming school year. Despite their different backgrounds, they found common ground in their shared anticipation and excitement, forming the beginnings of what could turn into a long-lasting friendship.
~~~o~~~
With a grand huff and puff, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. The cabin doors slid open, releasing a bustle of chatter and excitement. Harry, Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, and Jingles were among the throng of students pouring onto the platform, their eyes taking in the familiar, yet always magical, surroundings.
As they made their way towards the waiting carriages, a strange sight caused Jingles' sleek black fur to bristle. Harry and Daphne, trailing behind their friends, halted in their tracks as they saw the same sight - the skeletal, horse-like Thestrals hitched to the carriages. Tracey and Hermione, oblivious to their companions' surprise, continued their conversation, apparently seeing nothing but the empty harnesses.
"Wait," Daphne breathed, her blue eyes wide as she focused on the spectral creatures. She shared a look with Harry, confirming they both saw the same thing. Jingles, too, was staring at the creatures, his bright blue eyes unusually intense.
"What are those?" Harry asked Jingles, furrowing his brows.
"Thestrals," Jingles explained quietly through his bond with Daphne. "Magical creatures that are only visible to those who've witnessed death."
Daphne's breath hitched at that, and she turned to Harry. "They must be visible to us because of...Quirrell," she surmised, her voice dropping to a murmur. The thought was sobering, the thrill of their return to Hogwarts tempered by the reminder of last year's confrontation with Voldemort.
"Come on, you two," Tracey called from a carriage, pulling them out of their shared reverie. She seemed blissfully ignorant of the spectral creatures that had so taken their attention. They shook off their astonishment and climbed into the carriage, which began its steady journey towards the castle. As Hogwarts came into view, the sight of the Thestrals and the morbid reason for their visibility were pushed to the back of their minds.
~~~o~~~
The Great Hall was abuzz with excited chatter as the students of Hogwarts filtered in. Harry, Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, and Jingles had just alighted from the horseless carriage. The warmth of the castle washed over them, chasing away the cool night air that had nipped at their cheeks on their journey from the Hogsmeade station.
Eagerly, the group's gaze swept over the teachers' table, their curiosity piqued about the identity of their new Defence against the Dark Arts professor. When Tracey's eyes landed on the unmistakable figure of Gilderoy Lockhart, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest in delight. The flamboyantly dressed celebrity wizard wasn't just any professor; he was her favourite author, the man whose captivating tales had kept her enthralled for countless hours.
Their group dispersed, echoing goodbyes and promises to meet again after the Sorting Ceremony. Harry and Hermione drifted towards the Gryffindor table, where they were greeted by their housemates. Hermione was immediately caught up in a conversation about the upcoming charms syllabus, while Harry turned to chat with Neville.
On the other side of the Great Hall, Daphne, Tracey, and Jingles made their way to the Slytherin table. They slid into an open space, settling down among their housemates who were discussing the upcoming Quidditch season. The murmur of voices, the clatter of plates and cutlery being set out, and the low hum of the Great Hall's magic filled the air, creating a symphony of sounds that echoed off the high vaulted ceiling.
Daphne's gaze was drawn to the entrance of the Great Hall where a cluster of first-year students nervously shuffled, waiting for their turn under the Sorting Hat. Her heart clenched at the sight of a familiar figure among them - Astoria, her younger sister. She felt a ripple of sadness and longing. She knew it was dangerous to display such sentimentality, especially in regards to her sister. If Astoria caught wind of any deviations from the norm - like her friendship with Harry, or the truth about Hermione's heritage - it wouldn't take long for the news to reach their parents. She needed a plan to keep her secrets safe. Jingles, ever attuned to her emotions, gave her hand a comforting nudge with his head.
"You mustn't worry, Daphne," he murmured, his voice a soft purr in her mind. "We'll find a way to keep your friendship with Harry and Hermione a secret."
Daphne gave a slight nod, her gaze still fixed on Astoria. The Sorting Hat had just declared her a Slytherin, the silver and green colours of their house adorning her sister now.
The Sorting Ceremony continued. Luna Lovegood, with her wide-eyed wonder and dreamy disposition, found her place in Ravenclaw. And then it was Ginny Weasley's turn. The small redhead walked bravely up to the stool, though Daphne noticed the nervous glance she threw towards her brothers.
As Ginny donned the hat, the hall fell into an expectant silence. Everyone awaited the customary swift declaration of "Gryffindor!" However, the minutes dragged on and the hat remained ominously silent.
A tangible tension gripped the Great Hall when finally, the Sorting Hat's brim parted, and it declared, "Slytherin!" A shocked silence descended, quickly followed by an uproar. The Weasley twins stared in open-mouthed disbelief, their jovial expressions replaced by shock.
Ginny's steps toward the Slytherin table were hesitant but resolute. Her vibrant hair was a stark contrast against the green and silver of the Slytherin students. As she slid next to Astoria, Daphne noticed the uncertainty etched on her face soften, replaced by a spark of curiosity as Astoria began chatting with her.
Despite the initial shock, a sense of camaraderie was already blossoming between the two girls, a faint smile gracing Ginny's face, her eyes lighting up as they chatted.
"New bonds are forming," Jingles murmured, his blue eyes twinkling under the starry ceiling. Daphne could only nod. This year, it seemed, was full of surprises.
In the hush of the late evening, the Room of Requirement welcomed its familiar occupants - Harry, Hermione, Tracey, Daphne and their magical companion, Jingles. The enchanting room had seen many a rendezvous of these five friends, and as always, it had taken the shape of a snug, welcoming lounge, alive with the crackling fire and soft, inviting armchairs.
Perched on the back of Daphne's chair, Jingles observed with sapphire eyes that shimmered with wisdom beyond his feline form. His midnight-black fur shimmered under the soft orange glow of the fireplace, his tail swishing lightly in the warm air.
As Tracey plumped down onto one of the armchairs, she let out a bewildered sigh, her brown eyes wide. "A Weasley, in Slytherin," she said, shaking her head, the tips of her black hair brushing her shoulders. "Who would have thought?"
Jingles gave a twitch of his tail, a feline shrug. "I'm sure the Sorting Hat has its reasons."
The room fell quiet, the only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft sigh of the wind outside. Daphne sat still, her hands absently smoothing over Jingles' glossy fur, her normally bright blue eyes clouded with concern. "I... have something to say," she started, drawing the eyes of her friends towards her. "It's about my sister, Astoria."
A momentary silence followed her words. It was like the room held its breath, waiting. "Until we can be sure that she won't spill any of our secrets to my parents...," she paused, casting a hesitant glance at Harry and Hermione, "I think it would be best if I didn't interact with either of you outside this room."
There was a soft intake of breath from Hermione, her eyes meeting Harry's. Both carried a similar flicker of disappointment. Yet, they nodded in understanding. Hermione, her hand gripping the armrest of her chair tightly, spoke up, "We understand, Daphne. We'll be discreet."
As the last words faded into the ambient hum of the room, they rose from their seats. Jingles jumped lightly onto Daphne's shoulder, his tail curling comfortably around her neck. With a brief exchange of reassuring smiles, they went their separate ways – Daphne, Tracey, and Jingles to the dungeons of Slytherin, Harry and Hermione to the tower of Gryffindor.
In the dimly lit Slytherin common room, the three familiar figures of Tracey, Daphne, and Jingles emerged from the serpentine passageway, their silhouettes casting long, wavering shadows. Conversations amongst the other Slytherins ebbed and flowed, whispers intertwining with the occasional rustle of turning pages and the soft thump of a dropped quill. The underwater glow of the room, filtering in through the arched windows, bathed everything in a verdant hue that sparkled off the glassy eyes of the black cat perched comfortably on Daphne's shoulder.
Tracey, her brown eyes twinkling with the residue of the day's events, said goodnight to Daphne, a fond smile gracing her lips as they shared an understanding, a shared connection from their day full of new experiences. Then, with a rustle of her robes, she walked down the corridor leading to her dormitory, leaving Daphne alone in the room with Jingles.
As soon as Daphne stepped into her dormitory, Jingles leapt off her shoulder, landing softly on her neatly made bed. His gleaming sapphire eyes watched her every move, his tail sweeping lazily back and forth as Daphne prepared for bed, slipping into a soft, cotton nightgown. The soft padding of her feet on the stone floor, the comforting presence of Jingles, and the familiar murmur of the common room in the background – all these sensations wrapped her in a sense of reassuring calm.
However, this tranquillity was punctuated by a firm knock on the door. Daphne turned towards the sound, her heart skipping a beat in surprise. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice echoing softly in the room.
"Astoria," was the curt reply. The word hung heavily in the air, creating a palpable tension. After a moment's hesitation, Daphne unlatched the door, allowing her younger sister entry. Astoria stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Her lips pressed into a tight line, she nodded coldly in greeting and then her gaze darted to Jingles who was still perched on the bed.
Astoria's eyes softened ever so slightly as she made her way over to the bed, her hand reaching out tentatively to pet Jingles. Daphne watched silently from the corner, a wistful smile playing on her lips at the sight. She broke the silence, "I'm glad to see you've already made a friend," her voice genuine, her eyes shimmering with a hint of happiness.
Caught off guard, Astoria turned to face Daphne, her eyes widening in surprise. She was silent for a moment before regaining her composure and shifting the topic abruptly. "What must one do to be Jingles' favourite?" she asked, looking back at the cat.
Daphne chuckled lightly at the question, shaking her head. "I wish I knew, Astoria. Jingles chose me, and I don't think he plans on changing his mind anytime soon."
Astoria scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she straightened. "We'll see about that," she retorted, her confidence seeming to mask a hint of challenge. With a final pat on Jingles' head, she left the room, the door shutting softly behind her.
Daphne, left alone with Jingles, moved to her bed, her fingers gently stroking the cat's fur. Her mind replayed the exchange with Astoria, her emotions a blend of relief, confusion, and a small spark of hope. With Jingles' rhythmic purring as her lullaby, she soon found herself drifting off to sleep, her last thought was a simple hope – that perhaps this year, they could rebuild their shattered bond as sisters.