At first, when introductions were made, the exchanges were stiff and awkward, neither girl knowing how to react to the other. But after Bonnie complimented Hermione on her title as “One of the Most Brilliant Witches In Our Year”, the bookworm warmed up to the other girl in a flash.
Harry and Ron sat next to us, trying to ignore our nonstop blabber. We were too loud for them, though, and they pushed down the bench to sit next to Fred and George.
I glanced down at my watch. “Well, I have Quidditch practice right now so I'll see you two later.”
“Okay,” Bonnie said.
“Bye,” Hermione said at the same time.
I got up from the table, silently calling out a goodbye to my delicious food, which I had barely touched. Hermione and Bonnie didn't stop talking when I walked away with Fred, George, and Harry, instead I could hear Bonnie telling the bookworm about all the embarrassing moments I'd lived through when she was away.
I guess that's karma for me, I thought, flushed and remembering the time I told Bonnie about Hermione's embarrassing moments.
On the walk to the Quidditch field, Fred and George kept tripping and stumbling over themselves, pretending to be incredibly clumsy. By the time we made it to the other team, Harry and I were roaring with laughter. All was well, except when the twins started doing it during practice.
“Will you stop fooling around!” Wood snapped harshly when the boys once again fell off their brooms. “Snapes refereeing the game and he will find any excuse to knock points off from Gryffindor!”
This time, the Weasleys fell off their brooms, but this time it was an actual accident. Fred got to his feet hurriedly, ignoring the grass that gripped his robes. “Snapes refereeing?” Fred spluttered. “When has he ever refereed a Quidditch game? He's not going to be fair if we might take on Slytherin.”
“It's not my fault,” Wood said, frowning at his team in both empathy and defensiveness. “We've just got to make sure that we play a clean game so Snape doesn't have an excuse to pick on us.”
Harry and I glanced at each other. Despite my many protests that Snape wasn't trying to kill us, I still had my doubts. It was very strange that he hated us the second we walked into the school, and it was very suspicious that our brooms stopped acting wacky after Hermione set his robes on fire. I might scold the others for believing a teacher was trying to harm us, but I didn't completely disregard the possibility.
But I didn't believe he was trying to kill us. Maybe hurt us, but not kill us.
When the practice was over, I followed Harry out of the locker room, leaving the rest of the team to chat like they usually did. We didn't say anything the entire walk to the Gryffindor Common Room, which wasn't anything new – years with the Dursleys taught us that silent comfort was just as strong as verbal.
When we reached the Common Room, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the window playing wizards chess – which was the most complicated game I've ever endured. Hermione and I hated it because we could never seem to beat the boys, which Ron thought was very good for us – the git.
“Don't talk to me for a moment,” Ron said to us when we sat down. “I need to concen-”
“Snapes refereeing the Quidditch match,” I said, ignoring his comment. He took chess much too seriously; as if it would save our lives someday.
“Don't play,” Ron's blue eyes widened automatically.
“Look, I know you three are obsessed with the thought that Snape it trying to kill us but if could have been the wind in the game-” I began, but Harry cut me off, frustrated that I still didn't fully believe them.
“This is why I didn't want to tell you anything in the first place,” Harry said angrily, “you always disagree. Do you remember when Snape called you a know-it-all.”
My teeth clenched. Of course I remembered how the Potions teacher publicly ridiculed me. My eyes turned red at Harry's reminder, and I had to glance down so he wouldn't see. At the back of my anger-filled mind, I realized that this was the very first time that I'd turned red because of something Harry did. Before I could give in to the dangerous power that begged me to hurt my brother for what he said, I grabbed my bad and stormed out of the Common Room and towards the library.
The library had become my safe haven ever since Hogwarts. It was so easy to fall in love with books; they were easy friends to have, even though they never actually spoke. I calmed myself by rereading Hogwarts: A History, soothing in the familiarity of it.
I needed to get a grip on my magic. Something seriously wrong could happen, and I could end up injuring someone I loved. The magic in me churned happily at the thought, but I felt sickened. I needed help with this, but I didn't want to ask anyone. Harry would be furious at me for keeping it a secret for so long, and Hermione would be too interested on how it worked, and would have told me that I controlled my magic, and not the other way around.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the magic would one day take over.
For the first time, I wondered if being a witch was a good thing.
A few hours had passed, and I sighed in resignation when I realized that it was time for my detention with Quirrell. Hoping that he at least took a shower for once, I checked out Hogwarts: A History and made my way to his room.
He wasn't alone when I got there. I couldn't see him, but I heard his non-stuttering voice as he spoke to someone.
“Dumbledore would be at the match, My Lord,” Quirrell said nervously, but he didn't fumble with his words like he usually did. “I can not harm the twins there.”
Any chance he's talking about the Weasley twins? I thought, but knew that he wasn't. It made no difference, both were terrible.
“You failed last time you tried to kill them, Quirrell,” a high, cold voice hissed, sending shivers up my spine. The voice didn't sound like anything I'd heard before – it sounded evil.
“I am sorry, My Lord,” Quirrell apologized shakily. “I-I have failed you. It won't happen again.”
“It better not have,” the other man said threateningly. “We will get pass that three-headed dog soon; after that the stone will be easy to obtain.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Quirrell mumbled, sounding more like a servant than a respected Hogwarts professor.
The conversation was over, and I was unsure on what to do. Quirrell had obviously been the one to try to kill Harry and I in the Quidditch game, not Snape. And Quirrell was working for someone – someone so evil that they would try to kill two first year orphans.
It can't possibly be... I tried to disregard the thought, but it was insistent. Voldemort.
This changed everything. It was bigger than what my friends and Harry expected; this wasn't about a grudge some Voldemort followers had against us. Voldemort was after a stone hidden behind Fluffy, a stone so important that it had tried to be stolen from Gringotts, one of the most heavily guarded places in the wizarding world.
I couldn't figure this out right now, I had a detention to serve with a Voldemort follower.
“C-come in,” Quirrell stuttered when I knocked, but now I knew it was fake.
I opened the door and a draft of garlic swarmed around me, filling my nostrils. I had been so deep in my thoughts that I hadn't prepared myself for the stench. Coughing, not bothering to make my disgust a secret, I walked to the front of the classroom where Quirrell's desk was and waited for him to tell me what punishment I would serve.
“S-sit done and b-be quiet,” Quirrell stammered, and then he began grading papers, completely ignoring me.
I did as he said and studied the man. He was totally unsuspecting; skinny in the extreme with shaking limbs and wide, frightened eyes. How could this man be a willing follower of Voldemort? How could he easily cause murder then give detention to the girl he was attempting to kill?
How can I sit in front of him? Why am I not running away?
I knew the truth. Even though I knew who this wizard really was, he was still the smelly, nervous professor I'd known the entire year. My body wasn't shaking because it didn't believe he could hurt me. Still, I wondered where that other voice had come from. Was that really Voldemort?
The thought of my parents' murderer sent both fear and fury go through me. I hoped Harry, Ron, and Hermione would give up with this investigating, they were no match for Voldemort.
But I am, the thought was strong in my mind.
I am.
I would have to research about this. A stone that Voldemort would want, a stone that was connected to a man named Nicolas Flamel. When I found that out, everything would click together.
Before I could run into the Gryffindor Common Room, I bumped into Malfoy and his goons taunting Neville Longbottom, my fellow Gryffindor who was prone to accidents.
“Hey!” I yelled defensively, standing beside Neville, who hastily wiped away a few tears. “Leave him alone, Malfoy.”
“Or what?” Malfoy sneered, not intimidated in the slightest.
“Or I'll hex you like there's no tomorrow,” I replied calmly, feeling my magic swirl around me invisibly.
Malfoy drew out his wand so fast that I didn't have enough time to react. “Expelliarmus!” he shouted.
The jet of light hit my chest and I went careening backward. Neville cried out in worry. I quickly centered myself and drew out my wand, but Malfoy was already leaving and I didn't want to hex him from behind.
Reluctantly, I put the wand away and approached Neville, who had hit feet stuck together.
“Oh, Neville,” I sighed in sympathy. “Why is it always you?”
I grabbed Neville's forearm and helped him to the Common Room. He struggled because of his body bind curse, but otherwise it was easy. He only fell twice.
“Bolderdash,” I said to the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open. I pushed Neville through the portrait hole, and immediately heard the people inside burst out laughing.
By the time I went through, Hermione had already released Neville from the curse.
“Neville, who did this to you?” Hermione asked him.
“Malfoy did this to him!” I said angrily, rubbing my chest absently where his spell had struck me. “He is such a disgusting coward.”
Neville told them the story, and I could feel the others' eyes on me when they heard that Malfoy had beat me. I flushed in shame, feeling more embarrassed than I usually would. How could I beat Voldemort if I couldn't even beat Malfoy? When did I become so arrogant?
I left the group, tired of their questioning, and disappeared in my dormitory.
Dream
A tall man with unruly black hair and round glasses waves his wand in the air, creating colorful smoke over two small babies sitting beside him. The children, about the same age, tried to catch the smoke in their small fists, giggling happily. The redheaded baby tried to climb on the one with black hair, trying to reach the more colorful smoke higher in the air.
“She's just like you, James,” a redheaded woman said, picking up the red-haired baby girl.
“Yes, she is,” the man, James, said proudly, puffing out his skinny chest. “She will be a brilliant prankster.”
Knocking interrupted their cute family moment, and James' wand stop blowing out smoke. The black-haired baby boy gurgled in disappointment.
“Sorry, buddy,” James apologized, amused. “I have to get the door.”
James threw his wand on the couch and stretched, yawning. He walked down the hallway and out of sight. They heard the door open, and then, “Lily, it's him! Take the twins upstairs and go! I'll hold him off!”
The redheaded woman, Lily, hesitated for just a moment, worried for her husband, but she listened to him. Scooping up her children, she escaped the living room, running upstairs. She forgot all about her wand, the only object that could have saved possibly saved her.
She hid inside of a nursery. She carefully placed her kids inside the crib, and the twins stared up at her in interest with emerald green eyes.
“Stand aside, girl,” a high voice said from behind Lily.
Lily whirled around. The man probably used to be handsome with dark, mahogany hair and charming brown eyes, but something must have happened to distort his features and cause his eyes to be rimmed red.
“Leave them alone, take me instead!” Lily begged.
“Move aside, you idiotic girl!” the man snapped, losing his patience quickly.
“No, not Harry, not Nixie, please!” Lily cried.
The man pointed his wand at the woman, his patience lost, and yelled, “Avada Kedavra!”
Lily fell to the floor with a thud, permanently leaving her children to fend for themselves. The man approached them, glaring down at them mercilessly. The babies did not cry.
He pointed his wand at them and smiled victoriously. “Avada Kedavra!”
There was a flash of green light, a pain on Nixie's forehead, and then nothing.
End of Dream
I gasped for breath, cold sweat trickling down my forehead. I stared around my dormitory room, convincing myself that I was safe, that I was in Hogwarts and that everything would be okay. The room was empty, thankfully. No one would ask questions, because questions were the last things I needed at the moment.
I shakily ran a hand over my face, trying to dispel the images, but not wanting to forget entirely. I knew what I had just seen; James and Lily were my parents, and that man had been Voldemort. Was that what happened then? Was that the night I became an orphan?
Tears stung in my eyes, but I refused to cry. This had happened a long time ago; it was old news, unimportant.
I had just seen how merciless the monster actually was. And this gave me the strength, the drive to pursue my revenge.
Voldemort killed my parents just because they were in the way, and now, after ten long years, he was going to feel the same fear that they did before their lives ended.
If the monster is even capable of any emotion, I thought bitterly.
My eyesight was red again, so I dug in my trunk to pull out Hogwarts: A History. I read through the pages, calming myself. At first, I was flicking through the words mindlessly, but then two words caught my eye – a name, actually.
Nicolas Flamel.
That entire time I was researching Nicolas Flamel for Hermione, I hadn't even suspected that his name would be in my favorite book.
Excited and relieved that I had found it so easily, I read through the chapter, reading about how Flamel had created a stone that could give it's user immortal life. Voldemort was after the Sorcerer's stone; he was going to do anything for immortal life.
I frowned at the pages. So that was it; no more fun and games. Learning magic wasn't going to be about curiosity anymore, it was a way to stop evil from arising.