Nothing could have prepared Nora Mercer for today. Nothing. Let alone anyone else attending and residing in Beuxbatons Academy of Magic.
It was a gloomy morning, one of those when Nora didn't bother waking up earlier to eat breakfast. It was a bad habit, but she knew she would stuff herself at lunch to compensate. Maybe if she had any mildly interesting friends, she'd wake up to see them and have breakfast together, but Beuxbatons wasn't really a place of many interesting people.
The corridors were as loud as usual; meaning that perhaps more conversations and whispers could be heard at a funeral than in the hallways of the Academy. Here it was a common practice to keep your fun to yourself—or anything, really. Students didn't raise their voices when they were upset, or when they were laughing. And if you did and if looks could kill, then kindly rest in peace.
Nora had gotten used to these glares very quickly, perhaps in the first two months since she had left Hogwarts and moved to Beuxbatons. She had to add some fun to the school. The chateau was a beautiful place to live in, meticulously built and decorated, filled with natural light at all times. It didn't make sense for it to feel all gray and miserable, Nora thought.
It was just after the beginning of her fifth year, October to be exact. Her brothers had graduated, and she was left to exchange jokes and very few laughs mostly with anyone who she's been assigned to sit with.
Nora had inherited her brothers' legacy from Hogwarts: the tradition of pranking and causing absolute mayhem throughout the school whenever an opportunity presented itself. However, she quickly discovered that her brand of humor was not as warmly received at Beauxbatons as it had been at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, she persisted, knowing that Archer and Thomas had instilled in her the importance of mischief.
As Nora made an attempt to joke with Clara Perez, a prefect she had grown acquainted with over the past year, she found little success. The girl's lips twitched in annoyance rather than in amusement, casting a shadow over their walk down the corridor. The corridor, normally traversed by Beauxbatons students less than five times throughout their entire magical education, had become a familiar route for Nora, having taken it over ten times in just the beginning of her second year at the school. It led, inevitably, to the imposing doors of the headmistress' office.
Their steps left wet marks on the floor, remnants of the ongoing repairs to the school's entrance and the Dining Chamber. Clara's hurried pace began to unsettle Nora, causing her breathing to fluctuate between states of normalcy and anxiety.
"I think you might have gone and done it this time," the girl finally spoke after five sole glares. "I mean, nothing less than attempted murder would have tipped Madame off," Clara said sarcastically.
"Alright, I didn't attempt to kill anyone," Nora defended herself, scrunching her eyebrows at the prefect's words. "It was obviously an accident."
Their footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Nora could feel her heartbeat quicken—a troubling sign that only heightened her anxiety.
She really might have done it this time.
The two stopped before the grand door of Madame Maxime's office, and before Nora could reach for the handle, Carla spoke again.
"I do wish you luck, nontheless."
—Meaning, 'I do wish you luck, even though you and your pranks have practically deranged the entire school'.
"Thanks."
Clara attempted a smile. "You're leaving, you know? Isn't that what you wanted? I don't understand why you're so anxious now."
Nora, not one to easily succumb to nerves, felt her tall, slender frame shrink under Clara's kind attempt at consolation. Her eyes fell to the floor, avoiding Clara's gaze.
The prefect was right, of course. This was what had Nora wanted ever since she first saw the Beuxbatons enrollment papers.
"Ilvermorny is also a respectable school—"
Nora's eyes snapped up abruptly, halting Clara mid-sentence. The last place she'd like her mother to send her was Ilvermorny.
"Or Durmstrang—"
Without another word, Nora turned away from Clara dismissively and knocked three times on the grand gilded doors.
The girl nodded to herself, understanding that whatever she said wasn't helpful—but then again, what was ever helpful to Nora Mercer that was in benevolent candor? The girl didn't want to admit to herself that she most likely wouldn't be sent back to Hogwarts. Her mother would make sure to make her point from the past two years stand.
Three seconds passed and finally the hoarse yet sing-songy voice of Madame Maxime sounded from behind the doors. "Come in.".
Clara turned around on her heel swiftly, not sparing Nora another glance. Nora could hear it in the girl's sigh that she wondered why she even tried to comfort her—and it was beyond Nora's knowledge too. She still felt some regret after snapping like that, even without any rude words or annoyed huffs. Simply ignoring her was mean enough.
As the sound of Clara's steps faded, Nora finally grasped the door handle and entered the office, her chin held high after taking two deep breaths. She hoped that Madame wouldn't see through her as Clara had.
"And I lived to see the day when you, Miss Mercer, would actually knock on my door."
Nora exhaled sharply through her nose, not enjoying Madame's dry humour. She dried her sweaty palms on her uniform, hoping it looked more like she was only fixing the skirt of it.
She circled the couch a few meters from Madame's desk and took a seat on one of the two velvet blue chairs facing her. Her posture was rigid, and her eyes were wide with an air of forced nonchalance.
"It only took you a year and two months."
Nora swallowed hard. She could never explain to Madame that her not knocking wasn't a form of insolence—she just never had her thoughts collected enough before she came inside the office and she could never remember to knock first. Madame thought that she was deliberately trying to show her rebellience for being sent to a different school, but really, Nora had other ways of showing that.
"Professor Bouchard is still actively trying to. . . drain the Dining Chamber."
Finally, something to ease Nora's worries. The tone in which Madame said that sounded somewhat humorous—or perhaps Nora was just grasping at straws. Madame was never playful or in a joking mood.
"You've made quite the spectacle, Nora."
Those dark brown eyes were glaring now, and Nora waited for her uniform to start burning at the gaze of Madame. Definitely not humorous.
"Say something," Madame prompted, acknowledging Nora's obvious speechlessness. "Don't tell me you're afraid now, after all the chaos and disarray you've caused in my school."
Nora first gaped as she stared at one particular groove in Madame's desk, trying to find the right words. "I'm doubtful that you'll understand it was an accident—"
"It wasn't an accident."
Nora glanced up finally. "Not initially— . The end result wasn't what I was hoping for."
"The end result," Madame repeated, her voice cold and her eyes blazing, "We've gotten extremely lucky in the end result. Thank Merlin we've made swimming classes obligatory for first years, or you would've had as a very tragic end result."
Heat rushed to Nora's cheeks and body.
"No comments?"
Nora felt terrible—though mostly for herself. It truly had been an accident. Her magic had spiraled out of control, and a simple Aqua Eructo charm had conjured an entire waterfall into the Dining Chamber. It was horrifying, yes, for a few moments. But no one got hurt.
"You won't believe me, obviously."
"Because you lie."
"I'm not lying. I mean, you explain it then," Nora said, almost scoffing. "What's the logical explanation to what happened? Where could I have conjured so much magic from? I'm fifteen, and, yes, I'm a good student but I'm not an experienced witch like. . . I don't know, Hermione Granger."
Madame, at first, didn't seem to listen at all. And then Nora could see Madame collecting her thoughts, just now realising the strangeness of it all.
"I'm not sure you could even conjure so much magic all at once," Nora added, shrugging.
And Madame was back to her angry stare, letting Nora know that that comment was obviously uneccessary.
"Nevertheless, miss Mercer," Madame began, grimacing while saying the name, "When you tally it all up. . . All the pranks and jokes and. . . practical jokes you've pulled in the last year and two months. . ."
She was sneering now, her face contorted in disgust. Nora took a breath.
"Not only on the students, but on professors—on myself!"
Nora watched as a few drops of spit flew from Madame's mouth onto the desk surface. She did that when she was inexplicably angry, which Nora had only witnessed once before.
"I have no choice but to tell you that you've lost your place at Beuxbatons Academy of Magic. You are hereby expelled."