Two weeks later, the owls arrived from Hogwarts, and even after the tests Elaine, Ismay, and I had performed - sending letters with different owls, having my letters addressed to Ismay - it was the very first letter I had received in over a month. It was far simpler than my acceptance letter, with just the ticket for the Express and a book list:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, by Miranda Goshawk
The Complete Compendium of Dark Creatures, by Gilderoy Lockhart
Well, that was brief. It made sense, though - we weren't even halfway through most of our school books. Aunt Petunia, peering over Iris's shoulder, relaxed at the abbreviated list, thanking god she wouldn't have to spend much.
A visit to Ismay, a letter sent off, and a week later, found me in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting. Once again, I'd been forced to take the Knight Bus, and Circe, I was beginning to hate that law preventing a Muggle fireplace from being linked to the Floo network.
It wasn't too much longer before the Floo flared up, and a red haired boy ducked out. As he wiped the ash from his robes, the Floo flared again and two more boys stumbled out, practically on top of each other.
"Morning," I said, dropping that subtle compulsion convincing people that there's nothing to see here, just bleak background, move on .
One of the boys jerked, whipping his head around. "Lettie! I didn't see you there!"
"Yes, how shocking," one of the twins said – which, I didn't know entirely, their minds blended oddly together - as the youngest Weasley, Ginny, tumbled from the Floo.
"It isn't as if we were expecting her or anything, Perce," the second twin added.
Percy's ears turned a brilliant red, and then a fourth Weasley came out of the fireplace, but this time, it was a girl.
Her cheeks were flushed a red as bright as her hair, and, brushing the soot off her dress, she shot a vicious scowl over her shoulder at the Floo.
Then, Elaine spotted me, and her entire face brightened. "Lettie!" She didn't hug me, like she wanted to – not and have to listen to the twins mocking, and besides she knew that I hated being grabbed – but instead conceded herself with simply taking my hands. "How has your summer been? It's brilliant to see you!"
It was brilliant to get away from her family, even if it was only for a few hours, that's what she was thinking.
"Pretty ordinary. Yours?" I asked as the Floo flared for the sixth and final time.
"Fine." She scowled.
Then, Mrs. Weasley was swooping over, smiling warmly – the same look that Petunia often gave Iris. "Oh, Lettie! It is so good to see you again! How are you, dear?" She's so skinny, poor dear, does she even eat?
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley."
Oh, so polite! Her mind was as loud as a siren's horn, wide open and I didn't even have to peek, because her thoughts blared right into mine. "And your cousin? Is she here?"
I had to force my smile, now. "No. She and Petunia went on ahead. I think Iris was meeting Sally-Anne?" I shrugged carelessly, as if I didn't know precisely what had been planned.
"Oh." Mrs. Weasley nodded, but was distracted from further prodding by the arrival of the Grangers.
Or rather, by Hermione.
The girl came up from behind me, but I could see her perfectly through Mrs. Weasley's eyes. Her bushy hair seemed to be engaged in battle with a tight bun, poofing up at the back of her head, strands of hair wrestling their way free, and the rest of her outfit seemed to be a struggle between bookworm Hermione and some sedate orphan: a heavy black velvet coat , a thick pleated skirt and a black-blue blouse that she was untucking as she approached, and gloomy grey socks sticking out of shiny, shiny Mary Janes. Who had dressed her this morning?
More than noticing all that, though, Mrs. Weasley was looking beyond the girl, looking for the two figures if her parents... who weren't there. Did they just leave her alone here? A spark of anger flared through her.
"Hello again, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione addressed the woman first, thinking it was only polite. "You may not remember, but I'm Hermione."
Mrs. Weasley hugged her – the poor girl looked so glum , like she needed it – and a flare of panic went through Hermione's mine, before... she clutched the woman back, and I could feel her tears as keenly as if they were my own.
"Mother," Percy cut in, "may we hurry along? I'm to meet with some friends at eleven."
Pretentious prat . The thought echoed between the twins, both of whom were glaring at him.
Mrs. Weasley drew away from Hermione. "Yes, yes. Of course." She glanced disgruntledly at the doors, half-wishing that Hermione's parents would step through. But they didn't. "Well, come along then. Gringotts first."
We followed her out of the Cauldron and into the long, winding street. Gringotts stood a few loops and turns from the Leaky Cauldron, a story higher than most of the surrounding buildings, bright and white and blinding in the morning sun. It formed an awkward, slightly crooked V shape, perched as it was, with Diagon Alley curving off to the left and Horizont beginning on its right.
Along the way, as Mrs. Weasley began to berate the twins for some callous comment, I fell in with Elaine and Hermione - the latter of whom seemed to be focused on changing the color of her socks to a vibrant yellow, red, and blue.
"So... having a good summer?"
"Not even close," Elaine murmured, eyeing her mother.
Hermione winced. "It's been normal."
We'd reached Gringotts by this point. I nodded politely to the guards as we passed, both of whom sneered back at me in response.
Inside, the round lobby somehow managed to gleam even more than the exterior, everything - from the long, curved counter goblins self-importantly counted out jewels or wrote in ledgers heavy enough to beat someone to death with, to the columns lining the room, to the marble floors - white as pure as freshly fallen snow. A series of silver doors sat at intervals, and the ceiling overhead domed and held an ornate mural. However, instead of the typical happy images of cupids on clouds or beautiful angels, the mural showed a vicious, bloody battlefield, goblins and wizards clashing, heads being cut off with mighty axes, goblins falling under vicious green spells, rather realistically painted blood pooling beneath bodies.
Never, ever forget the viciousness of goblins. That was Rule 3 of surviving the wizarding world.
Mrs. Weasley moved to the first teller, but I skipped further along, Hermione and Elaine trailing after me like baby ducks, to the fourth teller along the row. The goblin didn't look up from his ledger, even as I stretched on my toes - seriously, why were the counters so tall? The goblins were shorter than me! - to prop my arms on the counter,though his writing became even more furious. "Hello, Agnok."
"Hello, witchling," he snarled.
"How's your summer going?"
His writing stalled. "Rather well." He looked up, deep, black eyes that may easily be described as soulless meeting mine, and smiled widely, showing sharp, sharp teeth. "I was allowed to slaughter a traitor a few days ago. His body is still displayed in the Hall of Trade."
I nodded idly. "Hmm... Can't say I'd enjoy that. The blood, you know? It's so hard to get out of clothes."
One of the very interesting things about goblins was that I couldn't read their thoughts - mostly. There was this heavy wall around their minds, a deep blackness that I ran headlong into if I looked too closely, and this awful, odd cold feeling that clung to them, a murky, deep chill, like after tumbling into a frozen lake, where one was wet and shivering and curled up under blankets and yet still couldn't get warm. A bog, perhaps.
However, I was still a natural Legilimens, and so I still felt the occasional snatches of... something . And right now I was getting the general feeling of wariness and perhaps a desire to skin me alive. Which. Goblins. So friendly.
"I'd like to make a withdrawal from the family vault, if you please?" I told him without letting my smile fall, as if I hadn't noticed anything. "50 sickles."
He nodded as if that said everything – which, it did, since I could only access the family vaults for school funds until I turned seventeen – and shoved a slip of paper at me.
I quickly wrote the withdrawal amount, then signed my name – ignoring the pinch of the Blood Quill – then passed it back to him.
He stared at it for a moment, hummed, then the slip vanished from his fingers. With a snap of his fingers, a small velvet bag appeared on the counter.
"Thank you," I said, picking it up, and slipped to the side to allow Hermione to approach him. The other girl quickly exchanged her pounds for sickles and knuts, dumping them into her little beaded bag that she then shoved into her pocket.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was gathering her own bag of coins, expression pinched. Their accounts were short, she was worried about money and weather they had enough, wondering if perhaps she'd have to sell a few more of her family trinkets, that her transfiguration work wasn't skilled enough to simply make the school robes, which were one of the more costly expenses, and Elaine should be able to use Fred's old copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 , it wasn't too battered. Gilderoy Lockhart's works would cost, though.
We left Gringotts, then, and back out on the marble steps, we all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill, when really he was off to see his secret girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. Mrs. Weasley was shuffling the twins and Ginny off to a second hand robe shop, fussing over how theirs were too short, and calling to us to meet them at Flourish & Blotts.
And so we found ourselves free.
"Thank Merlin, " Elaine breathed, "She's been like that all summer. It's driving me bloody mental."
"She loves you, that's all," Hermione pointed out.
Elaine sighed. "I know. It's just..." She shook her head. "Sometimes, it feels like she wants me to be someone else, you know?" More like Ginny , echoed through her mind with a twist of her heart.
Hermione flinched. "Yeah. I know," she said dully.
"Come on," I said, catching their wrists - a sharp spike, their thoughts clearer, pain and longing and disappointment echoing through both - and dragging them towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor . "I'm craving blueberry lemon ice cream."
Several minutes later - after Florean, somehow, saw past the subtle compulsion and recognized me, insisting vehemently that I didn't need to pay - we stepped back onto the street and wandered along the alley, happily eating our ice cream.
Elaine gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and... She wanted to be like that, up in the air on a broom, a star chaser... but her mother would never approve, never allow it, and her father would agree, to make Mum happy and because he was busy and he never really saw anything.
Then, we'd finished our ice cream, and Hermione dragged us off to replenish our supply of ink, parchment, and quills.
"You know you'll never be good with a quill," I told her, and Hermione scowled at me.
"It'll just take practice! With enough effort, I'll be as good as Elaine."
I just shrugged, bought a small case for my classwork, and made a note to pick up some more note-paper and pens in the Muggle world.
In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, we stumbled into Fred, George, and a couple of their Slytherin friends, and the twins were far too interested in "Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks" for comfort. Through the window of a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, wonky brass scales, and old cloaks, I spotted Percy, immersed in a small book titled: Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts Prefects and their later careers," Elaine read aloud off the back cover, a mocking lilt to her voice. "That sounds fascinating..."
"Go away," Percy snapped, brittle and tight.
"Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out ... he wants to be Minister of Magic..." Elaine told us in an undertone as we left, not that I needed her to tell me, the ambition reeked off him.
An hour later, we headed for Flourish and Blotts, and the rattling, echoing noise in my head got louder as we neared, a heavy clog in the street before the large shop, voices loud and a pang went through my head.
"Do we have to go in there?" Hermione asked, eyeing the, mostly, witches jostling their way inside.
The reason seemed to be a very large banner over the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12.30 – 4.30 pm
"Brilliant," Elaine murmured, scowling.
"Who is he, anyway?" I asked.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, he's brilliant ! I've read about him in the Prophet. He apparently defeated the Bandon Banshee, which-"
"Yes, yes, it was very great," Elaine cut in, catching Hermione's wrist and drawing her towards the shop. "Come on ."
Irritation, sharp and vicious, in Elaine, and more muted annoyance from Hermione - even after a year, they still didn't care much for each other.
I trailed after the pair, and we forced our way through the throng - several people rearing back when that little compulsion pushing them to look away, to ignore me slipping and they recognized me - to a harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please ladies... don't push, there... mind the books, no..."
A long queue wound right up to the balcony at the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart himself leaned against a table stacked with books - printed with a cheerful Lockhart, waving and winking on the glossy blue cover, with the words Magical Me written in gold. He smiled merrily at the witches as he signed their copies, and his robes were a jaunty periwinkle blue.
We grabbed our copies of The Complete Compendium of Dark Creatures from a display near the door, then made our way up to where the Weasleys waited. Well, most of the Weasleys - there was no sign of the twins.
"Oh, there you are, good," Mrs. Weasley said breathlessly, patting her hair and thinking about how brilliantly grey Lockhart's eyes were, like storms. Ugh. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."
We had, after all, neared the front of the line, only three people away from him.
"... yes, I am single," Lockhart answered a flirtatious witch, "however, I am entirely devoted to my work!"
A man holding a camera bumped into us, stepping right on Elaine's foot. "Out of the way, there," he snarled, angling the camera for a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet!" He took another picture with a blinding flash and a puff of purple smoke.
"Big deal," Elaine muttered, and Mrs. Weasley chided her for her rudeness.
Gilderoy Lockhart looked up at us... and his eyes met mine, going wide... and it was like crashing into a solid wall, my mind bouncing right off his. The world spun. "It can't be Letitia Potter?"
The world spun around me, an odd echoing, and what was that?
Lockhart strode forwards, stopping right in front of me, and... offered his hand? I blinked at it. "It's an honor, Miss Potter."
I glanced up at him, and his smile never wavered... but his eyes... his eyes had this odd, dark glimmer to them. And everyone was staring at us now. Stomach twisting, I took his hand, forced my own smile in response. "For me as well, Mr. Lockhart. I heard about your work in Bandon."
He titled his head, everything so bright and happy, except for his eyes. "Yes, I do seem to recall a good amount of press over that."
A bright flash, a whiff of acridic violet smoke.
Both of us turned to the photographer, who flushed, his mind twisting oddly in his nerves, and he quickly lowered his camera. I glanced back at Lockhart, realizing that he still clasped my hand tightly, and I drew back, my skin crawling.
"I believe you have people waiting?" I asked.
Lockhart blinked, then stepped. "Yes, yes." He clapped his hands together, a charming smile slipping easily into place as he surveyed the crowd. "Why don't I sign you and your friends?"
And so the mostly Weasley group made our way to his desk, and he happily signed each copy of his works - from The Complete Compendium , to the battered Guide to Household Pests that Mrs. Weasley clutched tightly - and, after signing my own, he slipped a copy of Magical Me on top with a smile.
"Free of charge."
I jerked my head up, about to protest-
"I insist."
I took it.
Then, Gilderoy Lockhart turned to the crowd below, beaming widely. "Now, I have a little announcement for you all. The papers, and I'm certain all of you, have been wondering where my travels will take me next, and it is my great pleasure to announce that Miss Potter and all her peers will, in fact, be getting the real magical me!"
A pause, and then-
"Is he serious?"
"He's taken the DADA position!"
"Maybe he wants to break the curse!"
"Yes!" he announced cheerfully, smile never breaking. "I have the great pleasure and pride in announcing that I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts!"
The crowd cheered and clapped, and during the ferror, the Weasleys, Hermione, and I made our way to the front of the store , Ginny struggling under the weight of her new cauldron.
"Famous Letitia Potter," a drawling voice said behind me, as Mrs. Weasley set her stack of books down at the checkout. "Can't even step into a bookshop without making the front page."
I turned around, a lazy smile sliding into place, and said, "Well, that's the unfortunate downside of defeating an infamous dark lord."
His eyes sharpened. "I bet you love it, don't you? The fame, the adoration ."
"Leave her alone!" Ginny cut in, and his gaze landed on her, and she flushed, flinching back under the weight of it.
"Ah, a Weasley. " Distaste clung to his voice. "I expect your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot." He nodded towards an oblivious Molly Weasley, who was now paying for her children's books.
Before anyone else could say anything, Lucius Malfoy appeared behind his son. I'd seen the man only once before, walking out of Azarius Shafiq's office with a pinched look of distaste, and he was no more pleasant now, tall and with long hair as pale as his son's, and this unpleasant chill to him as he laid a hand on Draco Malfoy's shoulder.
"Come along, Draco," he said, "there's no dignity rolling around in such muck."
Elaine and Ginny went bright red, Hermione glared, and Percy flinched.
The two Malfoys swept away, Malfoy Jr. knocking over Ginny's cauldron with an oops, and strode from the shop.
"I hate him," Elaine snarled under her breath, as Ginny and Percy gathered up the spilled belongings.
Then, Mrs. Weasley was shuffling us from the shop, right as Fred and George entered, and she began to berate them for their tardiness. We all made our way back to the Leaky Cauldron, where the Weasleys, with many goodbyes and some chaos, departed back through the Floo, and Hermione slipped out the door. Leaving me alone. I let out a sigh, then headed back for Diagon Alley. Tonight...
I was tired. Too tired to deal with a trembling Petunia and bitterly unpleasant Iris. To listen to a thousand, thousand voices from all the apartments around us - at least the Shafiq wards kept everything out.
It weighed on me, all their minds, so much, and... I wished, sometimes, that it would stop . But then, that's part of why I had lessons with Snape - "Control, Miss Potter, is the most important part of mind magic." Hopefully, this year would bring more advances, there. Hopefully, this year would be peaceful.
Somehow, though, I doubted that.