With the New Rising Sun V
AN: All rights to JK Rowling and Warner.
"This is where you will have transfiguration," Harry walked the picturesque hallway. Statues of incomprehensible chimera lined the stony path; or rather formed it. The walls of the transfiguration corridor were less concrete and nearer an active description of changing objects. Previous professors altered the material and masterfully depicted historical events that crawled from the walls to the ceiling in magnificent detail. The edges were canvases and the stone pledges of masters' great works. Rather than paint, every grain instead was the embodiment of its color, as if it were only in its natural form.
Selphie had taken away her soft grip as she traced her finger along the leviathan that resembled Tiamat from the old Mesopotamian mythos. In the vivid depiction, the goddess was doing battle against the great god of Babylon Marduk, as his storm battled against her primordial ocean. Harry was taking Selphie on a tour of her classes and the important rooms after the brief lunch they had. They wandered the common path she would take, following the timetable to a tee. The looks he got when they stood before the fat lady were unappreciated, but he could always blame the twins, if any onlookers showed malice.
The Weasley twins were taking their younger sister on a similar tour, no doubt filled with the castle's secrets as they did. Of everyone in the castle, save perhaps Dumbledore, those two knew most of her hidden details. Weasley's sat heavy on his mind these days. Bill's final prayer, Charlie's betrayal, the twins' smiles, and his new housemate. Many other students were going on similar walkthroughs, although as they aged, their density of wandering decreased. Finding OWL students and above would be a rarity of the highest degree as most smuggled themselves into spare classrooms either comparing summer answers or doing pre studying. "How was last night?" he asked as the tour ended.
"It was fair enough," Selphie answered, playing with her new red beret. Her cute beige cardigan over a small patterned skirt made her an ideal young Frenchie. Though the skirt having distinct Slytherin coloration made a few of the people accompanying them in the Transfiguration hallway give her strange looks, as did the distinct French accent she carried. "The girls all tried to get to know each other. I just wanted to sleep." She paused and turned with her face drooping like a wilted flower. "I missed being with you."
It was a hard truth. For how many months did they spend together embracing sleep together? The number could have rivaled years, perhaps. Last night being the first time since finding each other spent separate. Harry also struggled with sleep the previous day, whether that be because of his roommate's snoring or the lack of companionship, well the answer was obvious. He departed prior to sunrise over the Black Lake. An argument for training outweighing than failing attempt at rest.
It was a hard truth. For how many months did they spend together embracing sleep together? The number could have rivaled years, perhaps. Last night would count the first time in a long while that they were separated. Harry also struggled with sleep the previous day, whether that be because of his roommate's snoring or the lack of companionship, well the answer was obvious. He had even left long before the sun would crack above the lake, an argument for training being much stronger than the failed attempt at rest.
He placed his gloved hand on her head, softly rustling her new hat into her rosy hair. "Let's get dinner." He grasped her hand as a lifeline again and led the way.
With the New Rising Sun
The common room bustled with students; unlike the last night he was there. He carried an active day's worth of sweat, and required a shower, forever thankful that the Harry Selphie experienced was one who carried much more filth than this inhabited castle allowed. Pulling the cloth button up from below his traveling cloak, he took a whiff and winced at the smell. Perhaps he should have showered after they tossed the quaffle around earlier. The soft green of the lake illuminated the room with its rolling light. From below soft yellow, from above soft green. Even then, the room was cozy, the large couches and various study tables holding clusters of kids all milling around and acting more important than they actually were, playing pretend social politics, probably trying to emulate their parents.
Most students in his house were the children of political members and the "nobility" of Magical Britain, as Cepheus explained during the summer. They attempted to imitate their parents in an absurd effort to succeed, believing that their actions at a young age would lead to future progress. Black said they did this with their parents encouraging it. Why would they wish for their children to have nothing but political relationships rather than genuine friendships? Although, looking at Daphne talking to Tracy without a false smile, or Gemma Farley flirting with a fellow year mate of hers, perhaps not all genuine friendships were unappreciated here.
Actually, the false vibratos and posturing diminished into near absence as age increased, perhaps showing that the older students had a measure of understanding that the ways of the youth playtime were confined to pretend. Nothing of value came with believing that something as despicable as social hierarchy truly mattered. Every person they had contact with had some amount of value, and making pointless enemies by grandstanding did nothing to help in the future. With age came wisdom, as they say.
As his eyes continued to sweep the quiet, yet bustling hall, his eyes found the familiar fiery orange hair of a Weasley. She was curled up near the fireplace, a leather-bound clutched to her chest as the silver hair of a Malfoy stood before her in an aggressive stance. His flanks saw the ever-present Crabbe and Goyal. Nearby, Nott and Zabian watched, different visceral expressions decorated their faces, with Zabian's disgust matching that of Lily Moon sitting near him, almost brushing his shoulder. Harry wondered where Parkinson was. Perhaps picking daisies? It would explain her absents from the Malfoy heir's side.
His feet were in motion before he could process what was happening. "…Blood traitors." Apparently, Malfoy was talking down against her family, a familiar tactic of the blonde. Weasley held the book close to her chest. Her head drooped as if to make herself as small as possible, hiding any emotion using her flowing locks of flame.
"Lay off," Harry placed a covered hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, causing the boy to jump in alarm as his bookends drew their wands. Conversations across the room quieted, growing a larger audience to the new spectacle.
Malfoy batted the hand away, sneering at the interloper. "Outcast banding together, what's new?" the blond spat, the words coming like he had eaten soured food. Malfoy had grabbed his wand and had it comfortably at his side. Growing a few stone doesn't make you better than last year, Potter. You make me sick."
Harry dismissed the attacks and swiftly responded, "I didn't realize targeting first years was in vogue. I know you did it last year, but I didn't assume you hadn't grown up at all. Daddy must be so disappointed in his spinless child."
Malfoy appeared slack jawed at the response. Did he believe Harry would just roll over? It was what happened last year, but to not expect a semblance of growth? Perhaps it was that Harry's summer was so full, being much longer than the couple of months it appeared on paper, that he accomplished such large strides. For Malfoy only lived a paltry few months. Harry experienced a lifetime of events and witnessed unimaginable things within the same timeframe. He had seen evil crafting madness upon most sights and had drowned in the blood of misfortune and misery. Against the wraith of Tom Riddle, what was this boy? The hatred of an undead vampire was incomparable to the pathetic racism of an unlearned child. Balagos's unadulterated evil personified dwarfed any potential flicker of hope the fledgling had at bringing any terror upon Harry's shoulders.
Malfoy recovered from his initial shock at receiving a measure of resistance, assuming that with Cepheus being gone, none would try to reign in his behavior. "I am only doing what I can to remind everyone of their place. Something I can see happened to you." His wand moved to a more aggressive position. His cocky smile made no sense to Harry. From this position, pure fisticuffs would be the best move. He could fire off a throat punch long before a configured spell could materialize, even if using silent casting. While some parts of a spell may be omitted, physical movement remains essential, a nod to the runic tongues; the foundation of Latin spellcasting.
Harry couldn't help but audibly chuckle, something that only brought more fury to the blonde boy's face. It all just seemed so… pathetic. Did he truly fear harassment by this child just last year? "Your debate skills are so poor that you would try to win with violence?" he laughed louder. "It's so sad."
The normally pale boy was now a scarlet red. "I will give you remedial classes, Potter," his wand moved to cast a spell. The form and words were that of the stinging hex. His fellows went to cast the same spell, meaning if he dodged one of his housemates would be potential victims. He flicked up this cloak flaring it widened and turning slightly. Quick calculations for where the three spells would fly ran quickly in his accelerated mind, crafted by his agitated state. For Malfoy, he decided the ceiling would be a better place for the hex to land as he gripped the hand of his attacker and squeezed it, overpowering it and directing it to the sky.
Malfoy's spell broke before it could cast. The other two spells flashed helplessly against his enchanted gear.
Harry maintained eye contact with Malfoy as the blonde's face twisted with pain. "You need better focus, Malfoy." Harry said in a cool voice, "Losing concentration mid spell could be," he squeezed a harder, "disastrous." With a small push, he let go of the hand, which Malfoy cradled near his breast. After a few moments to collect himself, Malfoy quickly looked up again, meeting Harrys stoic face as he was forming a sentence. He cut himself off and retreated, wide eyed with a quivering jaw.
In the following minutes, the audience soon found nothing of value and the conversations in the room quickly started again, though a changing subject matter was incorporated. Harry took that second to point at the spot next to the Weasley's youngest. "Mind if I do?"
"Thank you," she shook her head in an affirmative, but continued with a downcast view of the world.
"I would tell you that the harassment ends, but I would be lying." He said, sitting. With a torrent of melancholy, he looked at the crackling fire. Its wood harvested from the forest burning and bringing radiant warmth to all who sat near, yet that warmth felt so distant against the empty feeling welling in his chest. The empty Four of Cups forever lingering in his soul. Even if others tried to fill the spilt goblets, the lingering regrets of a life devoid of friendship and peers clung like a shadow over his every moment. "But Malfoy is a tosser. I'll keep him off your back." It was the least he could do. If he had Weasley's protecting Selphie, he would have to do the same for them. After passing seconds, a familiar figure drew near, bringing something Harry could only smile at. Hope. "I'll leave you two be."
"Ginny right. Name is Astoria Greengrass but call me Tori, please." Her smile was as bright to Harry as Tracy's had been. Ginny turned her head at the new girl, a painting of shock.
Everything would be alright. He could feel it.