Spolier: Filler Chapter.
"I like you." The side of her lips stretched, her smile was brighter than the sunlight beaming through the windows of the palace.
You took a slow awkward step backwards, eyes narrowed at her incredulously. "You don't know me."
"I want to though, I'm going to." Her delicate fingers that reaches over hovered your rolled fist, she held it firmly between her hands. "I think there's going to be a good us, I just know it. We would be perfect."
Scoffing coldly you snatched your hand away. "Don't you think we're young for that?"
"Not too young to learn about each other first."
You stared at her in bewilderment, never have you ever met a girl so stubborn. Can't she get the hint that you don't like her? Doesn't she notice that when she advances, you back away.
Of course, that weird encounter was years ago, but the fact that it had happened so long you were confused as to why your mind is bringing it back now as though it was haunting you. Was it because of that girl you saw back at the campsite? How familiar she looked. Was it her? It can't be... Fleur's in France, what would be the reason for her to be in England?
It's not because of me...right?... Oh merlin Hermione is so going to chew me out on this. You thought to yourself. Wait a minute, why am I worried? It's not like we're dating or something.
A thick, large book slammed on the table in front of you, startling you from your deep thoughts. Looking up, Sirius was watching you closely. "Are you alright? You seem troubled."
"Just tired." You respond, leaning back on the chair to show. Tilting your head down, your fingers glide across the spine of the dusty leather book on the table, your nose scrunch at the whiff of particles tickling you nostrils.
"What's this?" You inquire, eyes scanning the letters protruding on the face of the book.
Sirius pulled a chair that was tucked under the table and sat in front of you. "It's a book about stars and constellations, I used to see Aquila read it every single day. I almost thought she's obsessed with it."
You opened it and flipped through the yellowish aged pages, skimming the written descriptions, insights, trivia's, and a full picture of patterned stars. The sensation of the paper on the pad of your fingers was odd to you, the mixed feeling of smoothness and at the same time with a hint roughness when your skin drag across the surface.
"It's a muggle book." Your uncle informs, noticing your reaction.
"I could tell," You run your hand across the writings, expecting for the pictures to move but none happened. "I always assume weird object are sometimes made by them."
"Muggles do have such effect on wizards. Always spiking our curiosity."
You pursed your lips, holding in the threatening smile starting to form, remembering that you had the same reaction when you first saw Hermione, at first glance she made you curious about who she is, the way she carried herself was far from any witch and wizards you've met.
"You're thinking about Miss Granger, aren't you?"
Heat creeps up to your neck. "N—No," You turn to another page again. "I'm looking at the constellations."
Sirius raised a brow at you in disbelief. "You do realise you're at the end of the book, right?"
Face was now burning in embarrassment, you slam the book shut with an irritated groan.
Sirius's chest rumbled as he chuckles. "You thought I didn't notice? If Lupin hadn't turned into a werewolf back then you both would've kissed right on the spot." He teased.
"No we won't," You denied, turning away to dismiss the subject. "We're just friends..."
"Kids and their confused feelings." Sirius grumbles to himself, picking up a parchment and quill. "How was your summer? Heard anything from your father?"
Letting your eyes marvel around the quaint room, studying your surrounding, despite how old the place was the furniture's were still up to its standards and in good condition. You stood in the Black's Family ancestral home, that Sirius inherited from his mother Walburga Black— the sister of your grandmother. This was where your mother also spent half of her childhood, though according to Sirius she only visits when the adults were out of the house, which was all the time.
You've gone days trying to figure out your uncle's whereabouts—pinning every potential houses he might be hiding in— only to find out that he's in the muggle world in London, a charm protected house twenty minutes away from kings cross station where the train to Hogwarts is located.
Your eyes lands on an aged, small, and slouched house elf with long limped pointed nose pushing a cart of tea cups across the room. He's the grouchiest elf you've met. "Besides his followers rampage at the quidditch world cup, none. I hope he'd keep it that way."
Averting your gaze away, you longingly stared through the window and watched the clouds crawling in the sky. You wanted to tell him about the man but you don't know what you were going to say being that you didn't properly see who he was, it'll be all just a chase without knowing who to catch.
Then the dreams; the loud indistinct chantings like unending drums, and the threats, dread your father wants to put you through.
What could Sirius do? It's not like you're discrediting your uncle's abilities but, what can he do if he's aware of the danger your friends are in? You're all in Hogwarts, someplace he can't be seen.
"Can I take this with me?" You slid the book off the table and stood up, your chair making a dragging noise along the empty living room.
"It's your mothers, you don't have to ask me." Sirius answers as he continues to write. "It would be useful now that you're in your fifth year, Astronomy class was quite challenging if I remembered."
You walk over to your luggage, packed with anything you'll be needing for another school year. The trip back to Hogwarts starts for about an hour, knowing Zach as an early bird he should already be occupying a compartment waiting for you. You and Zach parted ways for the day so you could visit Sirius, as your uncle had requested in the letter he sent, you left the Andrew's early in the morning with your luggages so the only thing you would do is meet up with your best friend before the train leaves.
When you finished squeezing the book inside, you zipped your bag close."Got any plans for the year? It's a waste of time cooped up in this place."
"I have none so far. On the other hand, Lupin asked for a dinner this evening, said something about introducing me to someone."
Hiking up your backpack on your shoulders and hand hauling your luggage, you turn your head towards him, forehead creased. "His lady love I presume?"
"Could be." Sirius grins, finally gazing up to you. "Sure you don't need any assistance? Kreacher would accompany you to the station."
You glanced at the house elf, his frown deepened. Shaking your head. "No thanks. A quick walk won't be that dangerous."
Sirius was momentarily silent, his deep dark, blank eyes staring at you. Then he sighed, his tone was too deep—heavy for you to notice. "What's the matter?"
He quickly glanced at a door at the corner, a locked room you haven't been in. "There's something I wanted to show you, but unfortunately time is running out, maybe at the end of your school year."
"Alright...I do wish I'm still alive to see it." You joked as you walk towards the exit. "I'll be off."
“See you at the end of term, Y/n. Stay safe. "
-
Heavy rain splattering the window. Faint hissing of the trains pistons. Loud incessant hooting of an owl at the next compartment. You grumbled inaudible displeased words, turning to rest on your shoulder and tucked your body a little more to fit yourself in the seat you lay on. Noises around was putting you off your sleep, it was already bad dealing with Zach's loud snores.
When you arrived at the King's cross station and to the platform nine and three quarters, the crimson smoke of the train greeting you, in a flash you headed straight to find Zach's compartment then throw yourself on one of the seats to rest. One thing you discovered about yourself was your need to have decent amount of sleep that wasn't like before, after leaving Durmstang to study in Hogwarts you could go days without any sleep. It was surprising how things can unexpectedly change overtime.
Adjusting your head on your makeshift pillow—your backpack—and squeeze your eyes tightly, leaning your forehead against the backrest cushion, aligning your conscious back to your sleepy state.
Noises seemed do decrease as though your ears have sunken under water, what's left of it was a quick sound of a compartment door sliding open and closing.
You didn't know how many minutes had passed since you were aware of your surroundings because when you adjust your head again you notice your pillow became softer, it made you hum in delight.
Shifting yourself on the opposite side, turning around, Zach's smirking face immidiately greeted you. “Had a good sleep?”
You yawn. “The best.”
“Better thank Granger.” After that you felt a hard pinch on your cheeks.
“Stop,” You whined, laying flat on your back and gaze up. “That really hurt.”
Hermione was already in her Gryffindor robes, Zach was too but you just noticed it after the smiling face of a witch above you. At your peripheral vision you see your backpack beside Zach. Were you really that tired? That you didn't feel Hermione move the bag and lay your head on her lap.
“Look who decides to finally wake up.” She grins down at you, her fingers raking through your tangled hair.
“How long was I out?” Resting your eyes close, Hermione's finger gently attempts to part your eyelids open. “'Mione. ” You groan, gripping her hand away and it ends up entwined with yours as it rest on your abdomen.
“A good amount of hours, we're almost at Hogsmead.” Zach answers your indirect question.
“You better change to your robes Y/N.” advised Hermione.
“Give me a few minutes.”
Zach amusingly shakes his head at you. He turns to Hermione. “I'm glad you can stop by Granger, where are your friends anyways?”
She points her thumb back, signaling to the next room. “They're having too much fun talking about the Quidditch World Cup, they hardly noticed that I left.”
“Those two could be dense sometimes.” You comment.
“Look who's talking.” Zach whispers, though you heard it clearly that you snap your eyes open at him.
“What?” choired by you and Hermione innocently.
“Nothing, nothing.” The boy gazes out the window, watching beads of water pelt loudly against it, making it hard to look outside. “Man, the rain keeps getting heavy isn't it?”
-
As a lightning flash across the sky, the carriage you and Zach are in halt in front of the great oak double doors of the castle. Hurriedly, both of you jumped off and sprinted up the steps, covering your heads down. When you arrived at the torched lit cavernous entrance hall three Gryffindor's were already there standing before a marbled staircase, sharing the same fate as you and your best friend, except worst.
“Hey, Y/N.” Harry greets while he nods at Zach with a faint smile.
You and Harry apparently got close over an eventful year last term, a friendly bond created in a life or death situation was odd, you wouldn't have it in any other way, at least some of Hermione's friends likes you. Not that you even care from the start. Even so it's not bad to know.
What's left is Zach being able to get to know them, hopefully this term he could befriend them—well just Harry, knowing well that Weasely wouldn't budge considering his mind had already set upon a worst reputation of you and Zach, being a Slytherin and all.
“Blimey, if that keeps up the lakes going to over flow. I'm soak—” A large, red, water filled balloon had dropped on Ron's head. Sputtering water all around.
You look up and see another one that you quickly spread your arms and push Hermione and Zach back, narrowly missing the three of you. It burst in the ground, sending cold waves of water onto your feets.
“PEEVES!” an angry voice yelled to a little man with a bell covered hat, orange bow tie, and wide malicious face. “PEEVES, come down here at once!”
The Deputy Head Mistress and head of the Gryffindor house, Professor McGonagall, angrily dashed out of the great hall. She skidded on the wet floor and grabbed onto what was close to her to stop her from falling, Hermione just happens to be an arm length away from her that she accidentally hold onto her neck.
“Oh! —Sorry, Miss Granger.”
Hermione held her neck, gasping. “It's okay, Professor.” With a last apologetic gaze, Professor McGonagall returned her attention to the ghost.
“PEEVES, get down here now!”
“Not doing nothing!”
You stand beside Hermione, removing her hand and replaced it with yours to massage her neck soothingly. “Are you alright?”
Looking closely, you see faint, reddish line marks forming on her neck. “Does it hurt?”
“I can handle it.” She timidly answers.
“We can put on some..” Your sight then flickered upwards, her naturally pink supple lips before your very eyes.
You stood there unable to finish your words, eyes glued on it as though it was reeling you in. Gulping hard, your gaze shift towards hers, she was already staring back at you with a look you're unable to understand. Your heart gunned, you could've sworn her eyes switched down to your lips in split seconds, the problem was you're not sure if she really did and you're just imagining things.
Suddenly your forehead bumps with Hermione's, lips almost touched if it weren't for your head tilting a little bit lower that the contact only consisted of red foreheads and painful whines.
“Pardon me, Y/N.” Zach's voice was laced with hidden mischief. “I slipped.” Lies. The wet floor was obviously far for him to step on.
Loud cackles echoed up the marbled stairs, Peeves zoomed up leaving a slightly irritated Professor. “Well, move along, then! Into the Great Hall now come on.”
The Great Hall looked splendid as always, decorated magnificently for the start of term feast. Spotless tables, golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of castle floating above your heads. Four long tables were already packed with chattering students; at the top of the hall were a fifth table of staffs facing the students.
Your walk to the Slytherin table was short, it was literally just by the doors while the three Gryffindor's needed to pass by three Houses before they could arrive at theirs. Hermione cast you one last look, a quick smile that immediately enticed you.
Zach's eyes shot wide. “Watch ou—” A bench creaked loudly, a sharp pain pierce your shin when it hit the edge of the bench.
Second year students around the table turn their heads towards you. “What're —you looking at?—” You squeak threateningly, walking it off acting cooly as though you're not in pain.
Zach snorts, his body trembling as he holds his laughter. “Not a word, Zach.” You whimper, searching for the fifth years table with your breathless bestfriend trailing behind.
The boy just replied with a thumbs up.
It took a long time for the first years to arrive, according to Zach it's tradition for them to sail across the lake(“Because you weren't here in your first year so stop whining.” Zach responds when you complained about not experiencing it.), and considering the awful weather, there would be no doubt that they might fall into some difficulties.
When they walk through the doorway you and Zach almost burst out of laughter. Water dripped down their robes like pouring loose faucet, hair wet, and bodies hunched due to the cold. They appear to have swum than rode boats when they crossed the lake.
“You know what, I'm perfectly fine not riding a boat.”
Zach leans to you. “In this weather, I won't fancy riding across the lake either.”
The time progressed, painfully for you as your stomach rumbled nonstop. You got excited to finally visit Sirius that you forgot to have breakfast, then you and Sirius were too preoccupied looking through some old pictures that you forgot to eat lunch or even have some quick snack. Wrong move, Y/N. A very wrong move.
After the first years each got sorted to their respective houses, food finally appeared on the empty dishes; mashed potatoes, roasted chicken, beef stew, ham,peas, fruit juice that almost overflowed the pitcher—the food was endless as it queued along the center of the table for all the Slytherin's to eat.
Chewing a strip of beef, you lift your chin, sight following a gaunt and silent spectre floating across the stretch of tables. It was Bloody Baron, the Slytherin's ghost. He always had a usual threatening look on his face, this time it was almost as though he could snap at you at any moment.
“...ungrateful...little..brats.” The ghost mutters under his breath, glaring at a first year who refused to a meal on his plate.
“What got your knickers in a twist Baron?” One of your school mate asked.
“Peeves, that no good son of a—”
There was a loud clatter behind, you turn around and see Hermione's bewildered expression, her goblet knocked on the table staining pumpkin juice all over the white table cloth.
Zach's head raised. “What's the matter with her?”
Shrugging your shoulders. “No clue.”
Heavy rain drummed against the high, dark glass, the storm released a loud clap of thunder that flashed on the golden plates as the remains of the course vanished. Dumbledore rose to his feet, the buzz of chatters and laughters seized while the howling wind and pounding rain remained.
“So!” Dumbledore smiled at all of you. “Now that we are all fed and watered—”
Then there was a loud huff, but everyone ignored it besides you. Hermione. You're going be needing to talk to her later.
“I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices—”
While the Headmaster list all the new rules proposed by the school's caretaker, your eyes caught a glimpse of a chocolate skinned woman sitting on the staff's table. Her brown, pointed witch hat set upon the side of the table in front of her. She was staring at you, almost as though looking at you in a scrutinising gaze.
You sink back in your seat, the intensity of her stare made your whole body rigid. Averting your attention away, beside her was an empty seat that was on Dumbledore's right hand side. The last time you saw someone lounging there was the former Dark Arts Teacher Professor Lupin.
Now you wonder, haven't they got anyone as a replacement?
On cue the doors of the Great Hall opened, its sound mixed with the deafening rumble of thunder, interrupting Dumbledore in mid sentence. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff shrouded by a black traveling cloak. Every head swiveled toward the stranger, he lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled dark gray hair then begin to walk up to the teacher's table.
There was a dull clunk echoed through the silent hall in his every other step, when he reached to the top table he turned right and limped heavily toward the Headmaster.
Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling, brandishing the man's features.
"The hell is wrong with his face?” Every fifth year student around you hisses at your statement. “What? ” You frown at them.
The man's face were unlike anything you have seen, every inch of his skin seemed to be have scarred; mouth looked like a diagonal gash and a large chunk of nose was missing— none had an amount of how frightening his eyes is. One of them was small, dark and beady while the other was round as a coin and a vivid electric blue.
The blue eye moved unceasingly without blinking, moving up, down, and side to side, quite independently of the normal eye. Then it rolled over to the back of the man's head, so all you could see was white.
“That's one bizarre—”
“Y/N!” Zach hushed sternly.
The stranger reached Dumbledore, stretching out his hand that was badly scarred as his face. The Headmaster shook it, exchanging words that everyone doesn't here. Dumbledore nods, gesturing his hand on the empty seat on his right hand side. The man sat down, shook his hair that covered his face and pulled a plate of sausage towards him.
Unlike other students who remained transfixed and watched him took a bite out of his food, you turn your head away, looking at him longer would've tempted you to say something you'd be scolded again by your classmates around the table.
“May I introduce our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”
Your eyes traveled elsewhere, disinterested, tuning out the Headmasters voice yet again. Then you see the double doors slightly ajar, a mischievous grin curl on the side of your lips.
You nudge Zach on his arm, that was supporting his chin as he rest them on his palm, flatly listening.
“Want to head out?” You suggest, motioning your head to the door. “Get a head start to the dorms?”
The boy glanced at the front (“The Triwizard was established—” ) then looks back to you with a nod.
The two of you quietly slipped out of your seats undetected—hopefully— heads lowered to cover your faces and set off to the entrance hall, squeezing your body sideways to fit through the door.
“How was your visit at your uncle's?” Zach began, tilting his head back then forward to check the hall. “Had any fun?”
“It was...alright,” You respond, uncertain. “He toured me around his house, showed some photo albums of my mother and his family.”
As you got deeper to the hall, it got dimmer than the usual beam of light coming from a burning light on a pillar.
“Any luck trying to ask him about your mother's whereabou—heads!”
Right after your foot touched the first staircase that led to the dungeons, something swings out of the stone pillars. Zach's pulls you down with him, the metal bar narrowly missing your heads. A suit of an armour creak and clank, returning back to its position. There were many trick stairs in Hogwarts, most of the old students—particularly the Slytherin's passing by— had always cross the area already crouched. You just forgot about it most of the time.
Zach frowned at it as the two of you continued down. “I'll tell you, someone's head's going to be missing one day.”
The two of you paused infront of a bare stretch of the wall. “Pure blood.”
Instantly, the sound of stones scraping roughly together reverberated in the silent atmosphere as the centre of the wall parted, revealing a passage to the Slytherin's common room. Under the chained emerald green lamps dangling at the ceiling, a fire was already cackling in an elaborately carved mantle piece in front of dark green tufted leather sofas.
Upon entering Zach spreads his arms above his head, stretching his body while heaving out a tired yawn while you sprawled on the sofa.
“You sure the teachers won't notice?”
“Of course not, they're too busy listening to Dumbledore's announcement.” Folding your hands at the back of your head, you respond. “Though I wished I heard some of it before we left, everybody seemed riled up.”
“I think I have an idea what it might be,” Zach hums in thought, shrugging his shoulders. “You know dad, spilling the beans when he gets too excited, but I wasn't able to hear the entire thing.”
“What was it?”
“A Tri tournament? Tri cup? Shi—I'm not sure.” Zach slip a hand inside his shirt and scratch his back, eyelids fluterring heavily. “Since Dad works in the Magical Games and Sports I guess it's somewhat active.” Watching him in his sleepy state, you knew you wouldn't get satisfied with his answers.
You rolled your eyes. “Get to bed Zach before you pass out.”
“You're going to bed yet?” He drags himself towards the hall leading to the boys dormitory.
You shake your head and tilt your face to the side, staring at the still flame. “I'll just stick here for a moment.”
“Alright, goodnight.” A door creaks loudly. “Don't think about Granger too much.” Then it shuts, Zach leaving you with silence.
“I won't.”
Fire cracked like a crunch of pebbles under pressure, gold and red embers sparking on occasionally pops of the blaze. The swaying flame reminded you a flash of burning tents, horrified screams, and threatening eyes. You gulped, blinking rapidly to push sway the horrifying image as one of your hands traveled down to your pockets, gripping glossy paper that felt rough on your finger tips.
Your gaze swept the repeatedly moving photograph you hold in front of you—that Sirius was too busy to noticed that you pocketed from his family albums—staring at a colorless face of a woman sitting crisscross on a rug. She seemed to be in her bedroom, smile reached up to her ears as she held an eagle statuette, waving it up and down with excitement radiating from her movement. Behind her on the wall was a stretch of wooden shelves where you can see untouched figurines situated; from a shelf of different variation of spheres, small stacked wooden boxes to a glowing dots held by a thin strip of metal.
Despite the wonder of peculiar objects your eyes could still uncover in the photo, to you everything was useless. All you were focused on was her eyes, that you can call your own on how identical it was.
“So this is what mothet looks like.”
Unedited.
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