Chapter 5: A good friend is hard to find.
V
Recent History
[Hogwarts December 2017]
Francis Crowley is in the process of working his way through the Hogwarts library. Every moment he is not in class or eating, Francis is in the library reading. At the rate he's going he'll never be able to read everything, but at least he'll be able to tackle the essentials within the next few years. The only thing he can't find much information on is this wizarding war everyone seems to know about. All he's managed to learn is that Harry Potter saved the world and now everyone's a lot better off because of it. Nobody wants to talk about it, even the Hogwarts professors.
While the policy on censorship has changed for the worse, at least Hogwarts has changed it's policy about students staying over the winter holidays since 1958, so he'll be able to log at least 10 solid hours of reading per day and won't have to try and figure out a place to live. The librarian, Madame Pince, knows him by name now, which is an unfortunate consequence of spending so much time with her. You'd think she'd warm up to him after a while, but she's only grown more annoyed at his constant presence, and perhaps a tad suspicious as well. What could he possibly be researching? And what's more, why hasn't he got any friends?
"So, will the library be open during the holidays?" Francis leans casually on the check-out desk.
"Don't you have a family to go home to, Mr. Crowley?" Madame Pince peers at him through her tiny spectacles.
"Nope." Francis responds bluntly.
"Why don't you go stay with a friend over the holidays. Get out a little. It's good for you." Such an absurd remark doesn't deserve a response. He wanders back to the stacks and returns with twenty books on various topics — whatever looked interesting at the moment. He had to have enough material to sustain him until school started again.
"I'd like to check these out now then."
"You can only check out three books at a time." Madame Pince says sourly.
"Three? Three books? That's not - can't you make an exception?"
"Those are the rules, Mr. Crowley."
"Fine." He selects the three largest books. "I'll take these."
"You know we keep track of every book you take out." She says, writing down the titles under the date in the register. Communicating with the Departed, A Primer. Gazing into the Abyss. Memory Magic: Delving Into Forgotten Realms.
"Obviously? You're a librarian?" Francis squints at her.
"Enjoy your holidays, Mr. Crowley." She pushes the books towards him and closes the register with a thump like a gavel. Judgment entered.
Francis carries the books back to his dormitory, plops them on his four-poster bed and yanks the curtains shut. Against the headboard he props a small mirror he's stolen from one of the girls' bathrooms, the one with the ghost that nobody ever goes in. He lights a candle and sets it on one of the closed books. Thus begins Francis' first efforts at communicating with the dead. Who said he wasn't going to try to spend the holidays with his family?
"How'd you get stuck here?"
"Hm?"
"I said, how'd you get stuck here?" The boy asks again, patiently, with a friendly smile. His big blue eyes shine bright in the candlelight from the giant Christmas tree that has recently taken up residence in the Great Hall.
"I have nowhere else to go." Francis says.
"No family?"
"No." Francis frowns.
"Oh. Sorry. That's sad." The boy sips his pumpkin juice. There's only five students staying at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. They're the only two in Slytherin.
"How'd you get stuck here then?" Francis asks.
"My family don't really like having me around. Being able to send me to Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to them. I don't go home during the summer either. I stay in Hogsmeade and work at Honeydukes. Don't tell anyone that though, I think it might be illegal. Child labor and all that." He pushes his greasy blonde hair off his pale forehead. "I don't think I told you my name. I'm John Selwyn." He extends a hand for Francis to shake, and Francis appreciates the odd formality. When he takes his hand he feels something odd, like a warmth spreading through him.
"Francis Crowley." Francis says.
"I know. You're the new one. Did you really travel through time?"
"Yes." Francis sighs.
"I wasn't sure if that was just a rumor people were spreading. People spread a lot of rumors around here. I think that's really cool, by the way."
"I don't. It's weird and I don't like it." Francis says.
"Is that why you don't have any family?"
"No. I didn't have family before either. I was in an orphanage."
"I would say you can have my family but I wouldn't wish them on anyone." John says. "They're death eaters, which is not the only reason they're awful, but a main one. Very bitter about everything that's happened. People here avoid me because of it, think I'm a death eater too, which is dumb because I'm thirteen years old and the war happened before I was born but— I'm rambling. Sorry. It's been a while since I've talked to anyone."
"No, please, feel free. I don't really know anything about the war, or about these death eaters, and nobody will answer any of my questions. It's like they're afraid to talk about it."
"What do you want to know?" John's eyes got even brighter, if that's possible. He pours Francis some more pumpkin juice.
"What was the war about, exactly?" Francis asks. John clears his throat and cracks his knuckles.
"We'll need to start at the beginning." He says after a deep breath.