Atropos → george weasley

xix. narcissus the defense professor

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nineteen

narcissus the defense professor

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Ottilie arrived at Hogwarts for her second year with a cauldron of potion ingredients, a brand new broomstick, and a sense of determination that had grown two-fold over the summer.

She understood Hogwarts a lot better now than she had last year at this time—both the castle and the residents who lived within it.

"So, how were your summers?" asked Ernie, absentmindedly petting his Chantilly-Tiffany cat, Bluebell, who was purring like a 747 jet engine.

"Wonderful," said Justin. "We holidayed in Greece. And then managed to catch the semifinals at Wimbledon."

"Wimble-what?" asked Ernie.

Justin tossed a Bertie Bott's Bean in his mouth. "It's a tennis tournament." He winced. "Ugh. Rotten eggs."

"Don't worry about it, Ernest," said Ottilie, leaning over to peer into Justin's box of jelly beans. She scanned for one that looked appetizing. "Justin, you're on thin ice talking about tennis. If you even mention the word 'golf,' I'll be forced to switch compartments."

"How about polo?" asked Justin. When Ottilie looked up at him, his eyes were already shining with snark. "Fox hunting?"

She picked out two beans and threw one of them at Justin's face as he laughed to himself.

"Polo?" asked Ernie.

"Never mind," said Justin.

"Picture Quidditch but with sticks and while you're on a horse. And without Beaters. Actually, it's not very much like Quidditch at all," explained Ottilie while chewing on a Bertie's bean. "Mm. Strawberry compote."

"What's so shocking about that, Ernie? It's one of the oldest team sports in the world."

Ottilie looked up to see Ernie staring wide-eyed out of the compartment window. Without another word, he leaped from his seat, sending Bluebell off to curl in the corner as she meowed her complaints. He pressed himself as close to the window as possible and craned his head to the sky.

"What? What is it?" asked Ottilie when Ernie shook his head to himself and sat back down. Bluebell returned to her owner's lap and resumed her purring.

"I thought I saw a flying..." He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. "Never mind. That sour milk bean must be making me see things."

The atmosphere of unease persisted throughout the trip. At one point, Hermione Granger passed by their compartment with her eyebrows knit as though she was searching for something. Ottilie didn't think much of it at first.

When they finally arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Ottilie's legs were sore, and she was starving. And, though she wasn't quite overflowing with exhilaration like she had been the previous year, her heart was thrumming rapidly, knowing she'd soon be back in that wonderful castle.

Rather than climb onto those small, self-propelled boats, they made their way to the vintage horse-drawn carriages, but without the horses.

She was used to the slightly bumpy ride from last year. In the dark, without the brilliant colors of the ground's flowers, grasses, and trees, the castle looked much more gothic. She'd decided it was better that way—more exciting.

Once they were finally in the entrance hall, Ottilie couldn't help but ball up her fists in excitement. Ahead of her was another full year of magic.

The sound of friends catching up after the summer echoed thunderously, voices bouncing off the hall's soaring ceiling. Slowly, everyone filed into the Great Hall to wait for the Sorting.