JPATNM ~ Chapter 9: In Which The Hexing Witch Is Born

Be careful the environment you choose for it will shape you; be careful the friends you choose for you will become like them.

- W. Clement Stone

Chapter 9:

In Which The Hexing Witch Is Born

~ Scorpius ~

There was something blissful about reading about the Fifth Goblin War, and all the intrigue revolved around it, or at least that was how it seemed to Scorpius, who was engrossed with this dark stain in the Wizarding history, and the focal point of his upcoming exam in History of Magic.

Strange as it felt for Scorpius Malfoy to think such a thing, the passing months could have been downright jolly, had there not been a tiny little redheaded detail. Rose Bloody Weasley. If someone asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to explain how it had began; he wasn’t sure who brought it upon them. He had a feeling it had been his beating her in the Herbology class, but he expected a knowledge-thirsty lass as herself to appreciate his suggestion. Instead she had continuously cornered him, as if he was her enemy. But he was a Malfoy. If she wished to make an enemy out of him once, he wished it tenfold.

The classes were as thrilling as he would expect on the most part - although of course he had to keep himself busy browsing through the next chapters in slow-paced classes such as History of Magic, as was clear by the fact he was drawing comparisons between the Fifth and the Seventh Goblin Wars during Binns’s lecture - but to the most part, they were challenging enough, and the professors were willing to give him extra work if he looked interested.

His little possy was something that left a lot to be desired if he were frank with himself. Goyle never would meet any kind of expectations Scorpius might have of him, so he never had any as Father had warned him, and Flint was also more of a brute than scholar. Oshwell surprised him pleasantly, paying a commendable amount of attention to Scorpius’s carefully calculated words and a good portion of their subjects, therefore he had someone to ask if he needed confirmation regarding a class, especially Astronomy.

Scorpius considered it important to attend to every available event for his year and so he couldn’t miss the meeting about the introduction to Quidditch that the Unexpected Ones had given him a flier of. Unexpected Ones was the term that was used after a while about the Weasley girl and the Potter boy, to disguise in a slightly more inconspicuous wrapping the fact they were talked about. Even the mere word “unexpected” had taken a new hidden meaning even if no one implied something about Potters or Weasleys at that moment.

The meeting gathered a lot of students, the two expected sorts. The first were the ones who knew Quidditch and did not expect to be impressed, standing with crossed arms or hands on hips expectantly. The other was the ones who didn’t, wide eyed staring as if the end of their upcoming doom was near. Scorpius was amongst the first group of course and he was even more expectant, considering the lack of magical abilities of the green boy before them. He agreed with his Father’s words from his last letter, “Since Minerva left, this new Headmistress has given entry to all kinds of charlatans to Hogwarts. I am beginning to wonder if we should have opted Durmstrang for you, as the Kerns did with their boy.”

Mathew Bazel though lifted in the air skillfully, without even having to say the childish “up” the flight professor had required of them before. He gave quite a bit of a show, full of theatrical poses while on top of his Nimbus 5000, earning excited claps from most muggle-born students. He also spotted the Unexpected Ones following suit and Potter actually gave an enthusiastic “yeep!” as the professor balanced on one foot, nudging his cousin to whisper something to her.

By the end of the meeting he had gained quite a lot of useful information about the young wizards and witches of his year. Mitchel Opal was as much a delicate snob in his lunch and classes as he was in Quidditch. He brought out a piece of silk cloth with the emblem of the Opal household and polished the upper edge of his broomstick. He almost fell headfirst to the ground when a bee came too close to his cloak and he tried to swat it. Flint on the other hand, made up his lack of academics with his skill on a broom. Scorpius had heard the rumors, but indeed it wasn’t farfetched to claim that Flint had grown up on a broomstick.

Goyle was also decent and he eyed the beaters’ bats with newfound interest. Rose Weasley was also good - better than he cared to admit - and a rather aggressive flier, almost enough to compete with Goyle’s sheer strength in her zooming style of flight. Potter showed enough skill, nothing too impressive, but if each House would put together a team consisting merely of first years, he would be a good chaser from the looks of it. Scorpius was looking forward to showing off his snitch-seeking skills, which he felt proud of, but the Squib professor chose to not release the Snitch from their very first meeting.

In following meetings, when the weather permitted it, the more advanced students could choose whether to practice among themselves or help the more inexperienced ones, while most of the Muggle-borns did their best to catch up. All in all he enjoyed it and to his delight, Rose Weasley was busy looking after a whole different kind of ball with her bat in hand, while Scorpius’s eyes scanned the heavens for a blink of gold. He couldn’t stop having the creeping suspicion though, that Weasley would much rather send the bludgers flying his way, instead of keeping him safe from them.

The clearing of a throat - for the seventeenth time in a row if he had counted correctly - made Scorpius finally turn around, silently lifting an eyebrow at Goyle.

“Are you done?” he asked, almost pleadingly. His intentions were made clearer by the growling of his stomach.

“For now,” he agreed, shutting the book and slipping into his leather bag with the sewn insignia - Penny’s masterful work which adorned the majority of his belongings.

Ryan noticed the movement and quickly scrambled to his feet, lifting a dark coloured chart with white spots from the carpeted floor, shoving it in its according folder and hurried to reach them. Flint was already expecting them at the Great Hall, taking his time collecting various delicacies on his plate after an intense flight session. Scorpius had noticed that while Quincy Goyle was more of a follower, Felix made his own choices and weighted them to the apparent benefit of accompanying Scorpius even to activities he didn’t fancy. Scorpius liked that; sometimes he thought he could practically feel Quincy looming over his shoulder when he studied.

“I heard the Halloween table is a work of art!” Ryan said between munches, his look dreamy at the idea of pumpkin - his favourite vegetable - and sweets in ominous shapes and colours. “I did kind of expect us to be allowed to wear a costume during classes. This will be the first Halloween I am not dressing up.”

“A wizard dressing as a wizard?” Scorpius inquired, struggling to find the appeal to the idea. He was vaguely familiar with the holiday, although the Malfoys did not celebrate it in any particular way, and the only heir of their house obviously did not trot along any Muggles, trick-or-treating for sweets he could simply request instead of begging the neighbors for them.

“Well, not a wizard! But there is a variety of options! Undead, vampires, hags, centaurs and pixies! All the fun we could have guessing who stood across us!”

Unconsciously, Scorpius’s eyes darted across him, where Rose sat, quietly gathering some eggs with a loaf of bread. To distract himself his mind wandered to another Weasley, true to his reputation as troublemaker and all the possible laughs he would have at the expense of others if given the luxury of a disguise. “Sounds fascinating,” he mumbled as some tender piece of meat found its way from his fork to his mouth.

“Do you think there’s a point in asking for it?” Ryan urged.

“Hardly. Especially our head of House might not have a clue what a Halloween is.”

“I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, I am aware, and have celebrated numerous Halloweens of my own.” The colour drained from the boy’s face at the remark of Professor Erb, lingering right behind him.

“Pardon me, Professor,” Scorpius hurried to excuse himself politely. “I assumed-”

“Of course, that my cultural background might suggest otherwise. Expected, but untrue. You might be surprised to know that my mother had in fact been from Wales.” A brief, forgiving glance was given at Scorpius before the professor walked down the hall leaving Scorpius to think about indeed how blue Celom Erb’s eyes were, contrasting against his dark complexion.

Goyle paused eating and surprisingly asked, “So in his culture they also celebrate Halloween?”

Scorpius struggled to maintain his expressionless facade. Bringing a bite of food to his lips seemed like the most appropriate move to achieve that. “No, that’s not quite what he meant.” No, my companions are not satisfactory. Not even close.

He scanned the table of his House, observing all the fitting candidates. Panic began to well up, a suffocating feeling rising up his chest. The list was short. He was quite close to spending his more productive years of education in the company of a complete dofus, a jock and a perhaps commendable brain. With proper nurturing, he thought, glancing at Ryan Oshwell.

His gaze slid off to the Unexpected Ones once more. He shivered at the idea. No. Mother might have said that he should make friends - even if they’re not the most expected ones - but he didn’t even want to fathom Father’s reaction at the idea of his association with a Weasley!

He sipped some of his juice, reasoning with himself. Mother is a sweet woman, but she’s wrong about this. Friends are not what I need; all a Malfoy needs is allies. That is what Grandfather and Father always say. I am just being tested. Yes, this is a mere moment of weakness. I will snap out of it.

Goyle sat between Felix and Ryan, balancing a spoon at the edge of his dish, peas on the curvy part as two fat fingers landed on its handle, sending the tasteless greenery flying right into Weasley’s maze of a hair. She didn’t realize it until Goyle shot along a piece of carrot, landing by her fingertips with a slight squish. She glanced at the carrot for a second, before calmly pulling her wand out of her robes. A familiar incantation was whispered and Goyle’s legs began to dance uncontrollably, causing him to fall off the bench and dance all the way to an armor that Quincy tried to use to support himself. The armor gave way under his weight, the helmet landing straight on his head, while the rest collapsed with a thud that made all of the student body and the professors turn to look at the ruckus. The Gryffindor table burst to simultaneous laughter, as if they were a single, gigantic creature.

Rose had already turned to talk to her cousin, delicately picking peas off her hair and dropping them on a napkin on her lap. An unmistakable smirk was plastered to her lips. Scorpius shut his eyes closed, covering his face with his hands. It is all a test. An incredibly difficult test. I am Scorpius Malfoy. I don’t fail tests.

* * * * *

Rapax curled on Scorpius’s legs before the hearth, where he enjoyed the after-midnight stillness of the Slytherin common room. He couldn’t sleep that night. Tomorrow was Binns’s exam, and a well rested mind was what he needed. Sleep came to him in the most inconvenient form, accompanied by a lucid nightmare of Parseltongues and Potters and Weasleys and unbreakable vows.

He had woken up drenched in sweat, only to discover it was just ten to midnight; eight hours and ten minutes more until the time of the exam. His jarvey was at a loss of insulting words, for once not provoked by lingering Slytherins who enjoyed the creature’s horrid manners.

Questions spun around his mind, about the peculiar meeting between the boys and the dark figure in Knockturn alley, thoughts he was allowed to ponder on in the safety and warmth of the common room. He was rather certain that the boys of that day were the notorious troublemakers of the school, Fred Weasley and James Potter. But they’re just two silly boys, not Dark Wizards. The Malfoys still had dealings with connections of… dubious loyalties, that was true, but Scorpius knew they were far from being Dark. So how could the children of two families that were on the right side of the war, be involved in something of this sort - and at that age as well!

Meowww…

Oh, just great! I’ve definitely lost my marbles! Meowing in my mind! Only the meowing did not come from his mind, but from a more tangible source. The creature stood on the armchair across him, bright yellow eyes piercing through Scorpius. There was something regal about the way the kneazle sat on the emerald, velvet cushion, its golden-bronze fur shining under the dim lighting.

Rapax stretched and stood up, a striped tail tickling Scorpius’s nostrils as he took his leave to investigate the intruder. The kneazle purred lowly, shifting his focus on the jarvey, which was thinner, but longer than itself. They sniffed each other and since the kneazle did not react, Rapax sprung to the armchair, curling its lean body around it. “You little traitor!” Scorpius hissed, curling his feet to his chest.

There he was, sitting on his own while his own trusted pet was snuggling with the enemy! Disturbed, he stood up, pacing around the room and observing the strange artifacts in the silver showcases at the back of the common room. The locket of the great Salazar Slytherin, slightly damaged of its adventures about two decades ago, had finally found its rightful place in the chambers its owner had built for the students he deemed worthy. Other things, precious-looking and mostly silver and adorned with emeralds, decorated the surrounding selves. Cursed rings, self-filling cups, a snake whistle, books about charms and hexes and a pair of dragonskin gloves lay on the other side of the glass, with delicately carved, silver labels, protected from mischievous students with charms strong enough to feel without even touching the cases.

It eerily reminded him of the manor, decorated with family heirlooms. They were there for the seeing, but not for use, even from the Malfoys themselves. Sometimes Scorpius felt jealous of Penny, her thin, calloused fingers opening the cases to clear the dust, before sealing them again. Other times he felt glad he didn’t have the chance to do it, knowing that some objects were cursed, and could cost him his hand, or anything more vital. A body part was not something he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of curiosity. He turned to make his way back to the armchair, to reserve his strength if sleep would not come to him again. The kneazle was blocking his way, staring straight at him. He wondered what it perceived from him. Probably all the unspoken remarks he had mentally noted since he set his foot on the school grounds, and maybe even before that.

“Meowww,” the kneazle purred and lightfootedly it came to rub its fur against Scorpius’s exposed ankles. He shivered as the fluff of its lion tail wrapped around his right ankle. You seem worth my attention, Wizard, was what the move felt to Scorpius. Cats were strange, but kneazles, their magical counterparts were even stranger. He couldn’t tell what caused the creature to accept him.

“There, there.” Scorpius patted awkwardly the back of the kneazle and sat down. The kneazle followed him, perceptive eyes always watching, as he sat on the table to be on eye level with the boy. His gaze fell on a metal tag hanging from a chain on the kneazle’s neck. Ignis, the Latin word for fire. Such a fitting name for a Gryffindor’s pet, the boy mused, imagining the animal on the red carpet of the Gryffindor common room, its golden fur gleaming under the light of a flame - an orange one, not blue like the Slytherin’s common room, its lion tail swinging lazily below a lion banner of the House. But she’s not a Gryffindor, he reminded himself. The hat saw something in her worth putting her in the House of the Snake, amongst the cunning and ambitious. A strange one, she is. Smart and brutal, a combination scary, especially for a girl.

* * * * *

Little by little Scorpius came to realize what it meant to get on Weasley’s bad side. Goyle’s dancing feet was what you would pray for if you spited her. Hexes and jinxed flowed out of her lips in soft whispers, making it almost impossible to put the blame on her.

There is quite a spirit in her and a Slytherin one at that, Scorpius tended to think when their fellow classmates - always Slytherins - fell victims to her anger. She was marking her territory, making a show of power and that she was not to be messed with; a reaction that fascinated Scorpius. He did not expect such a thing from a goody goody Weasley spawn. Even more peculiar was, that her more aggressive approach to set boundaries began after a merry family reunion by the Dark Lake. It was hard to miss, all the Weasleys and the two Potters, most in Gryffindor red, but a Ravenclaw girl and the two Slytherins also with them, having a feast of cake and sweet beverages while they laughed their hearts out loud and fed the Giant Squid strange things.

Rose Weasley had become more of a threat for Scorpius himself as well. The competition in classes was taken to a whole new level. First it was a demonstration of knowledge, one he could easily keep up with. She might have felt so high and mighty, having studied ahead of the rest of the class, but that was also something he could boast of. In some classes he had a head start, like Defense Against the Dark Arts, ironically enough, and in others she was ahead of him, such as Charms.

Charms were a great, dark cloud, plaguing over him. His wand was not the problem; it obeyed him just as much as young wizard’s wand ever could. His worry about it one day stopping to do so lingered though; the disgrace, the ridicule, the Great Malfoy Heir being unable to cast magic! The thought was sometimes paralyzing, keeping him from executing spells perfectly, even if he had practiced them in his private time.

A few days into November, a particularly triumphant win was marked for Scorpius. Professor Flitwick had asked which was the simplest silencing charm. Weasley had hurried to answer silencio due to the euphony with the word silencing, although silencio required a series of complicated flicks of the wand, while aposiopus, which Scorpius suggested instead could be cast by drawing a simple horizontal line in the air and therefore fit the description better. Rose had looked completely out of her mind after that; she had even failed to cast the spell correctly during the first three attempts, stuttering the incantation from her anger.

That was her turning point. She began using her talent for Charms in the a cunning, characteristically Slytherin way. The first time she attempted it, she had the nerve to do it in the class of their paranoid auror professor, Orianna Cemola. Cemola made an inquiry about the time of the day when Red Caps were more likely to make an appearance, when Scorpius, his hand almost risen to speak the answer, covered his lips, which were sealed tightly, as if sewn together. He struggled to split them open, but all he managed was to make a low, moaning sound so he stopped struggling in embarrassment. He held his hands crossed over his mouth as if deeply in thought for the rest of the class, trying to think of a way to undo the spell, without asking for favours from anyone. He was Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, and he needed no favours just because a redheaded outcast forced him to zip it. To his relief, the spell was undone by the time he reached the entrance of the classroom.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the Professor’s voice reached him at the porch.

“Yes, ma'am?” His voice had a little squeak of nervousness, mostly at the idea that he called Orianna Cemola “ma’am”! She paid it no heed though.

“Are you unwell? You were rather unresponsive today. I expected you to be the first to answer about the Red Caps.”

Heat rushed to Scorpius’s face. He could rat her out, that little, sneaky, redheaded detail. Cemola would never let her off the hook if she knew he jinxed him into silence. “A case of sore throat is all. Excuse me for letting you down, Professor.” He cleared his throat a bit for effect. “I expect my voice to be better tomorrow if I rest it today.”

“Ah, is that all?” she asked absently. Yet another chance to come clean, which Scorpius let slip away. “Keep in mind that Madam Pomfrey would happily give you a syrup to soften the irritation.” With that, she went back into the classroom, and nodding, Scorpius left.

It took him a while to adjust to the aggressive reality of the rejuvenated Rose Weasley, but eventually he discovered a couple of tricks to fend for himself and repay her in the same way.

He owled Mr. Borgin of “Borgin & Burkes”, requesting the discretion of the owner about his request and inquiring about an artifact of sorts that would offer protection from hexes and jinxes. In a week’s time the familiar horned owl of the shop, with eyes orange and rather intimidating, found him in the common room, bringing a small packet and a letter. Once he looked at it in the privacy of his bedroom, behind the concealment of the bed’s curtains, he was the package contained a ring, still too large to wear on his thin fingers, with a grey stone decorating it.

Mr. Malfoy,

I hope you are well and that you find the item to your satisfaction. It offers protection from tripping jinxes, engorgement charms and rambling hexes, although there could be some of them that are not within its range of protection - which I don’t expect you to encounter in Hogwarts at the moment. I am also sending you a chain, which you can use to wear the ring if it too large for you. Due to the spells attached to it, magical readjustments for its size would have been nearly impossible.

Yours sincerely,

Thelonius Burkes

Scorpius wore the ring beneath his jumper during classes and indeed, it provided him immunity to most of Wesley’s attempts. She figured it out eventually though and tried more advanced, alternative spells, which often managed to work. In frustration he began to learn counter charms, practicing them as best as he could, but he wouldn’t strike back, not yet. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys are not fazed by silly Weasley girls.

* * * * *

On a pleasant Thursday evening, during dinner at the Great Hall, the Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra, made an abrupt announcement.

“I would please like to steal your attention for a second from this lovely chocolate tart. Yes, that’s better.” She nodded as the students fell quiet, except for Goyle who blissfully continued working his way through a large piece of tart. “So, as some of the oldest students might already suspect, it is this time of the year again. The Andromedids are due to appearing tomorrow and they will be a marvelous gem on the night skies over our castle.

“I would like to request of all the first years to be tomorrow at the top of the Astronomy Tower and any student of previous years wishes to watch them as well is welcome. They are expected to be the most impressive meteor shower of the past decade!”

Ryan’s eyes looked at everything joyfully, with such excitement that implied he would not mind camping on the roof of the Astronomy Tower since the previous night. Scorpius noted not to forget his scarf, as the November nights at Hogwarts were cold and the wind a messenger of the upcoming snow. Rose made a long face after the announcement was over - if there was a class that she hated, that was Astronomy. She had even fallen asleep against her telescope one time. A small smirk of satisfaction came to Scorpius’s face as he listened to the information Ryan Oshwell decided to share with him about the meteor shower of the Andromeda constellation.

* * * * *

The Astrology tower was overpopulated with students, as Aurora Sinistra had requested the night ago. Scorpius chose a corner by the barracks, where the two telescopes of their group were already placed properly - a task Ryan took up more than willingly - and preserved as much space as they could to themselves.

“That’s so stupid. What so we’ll study the stars? Like those Muggles do and then predict the future? Who cares about Astrology?” Goyle asked, drawing all kinds of shocked looks at the use of such a long sentence.

Flint reacted instantly, shooting the answer at him. “Are you a complete buffoon?!” he demanded. “What you’re saying is part of Divination, and we don’t have that yet! It’s Astronomy we do here, not Astrology!”

Goyle looked dumbfounded at his classmate, incapable of speech for a few minutes. It was a pleasant break from idiocy.

While the rest of the students took their time to prepare their equipment, Scorpius strayed away from his group, to reach the other side of the tower where he could see the Forbidden Forest from. His eyes lingered on its treetops for a while, watching little blue lights flicker in the northernmost visible part of it, when he heard familiar voices.

“They really are like new, Ben! I didn’t expect that to be possible! ” said a girl.

“So you could take a look at my History of Magic handbook as well? It’s only ripped in one spot at the bottom of the spine,” asked the Ben boy. Ben Rafingstone, if Scorpius recalled the muggle-born’s name correctly.

“Oh, Em, you’re exaggerating, it’s nothing really. But yeah, I can do it. I think I enjoy some repair charms really. Oh, actually I could teach you how to do them as well.” It was strange, hearing Rose Weasley being so helpful and sweet, in a way she had never been to any of her Slytherin classmates. Instead, in the company of students from the other Houses, she glowed. Far too much.

“I’d like that,” Ben agreed. “Charms are my forte anyway, anything as long as it is not defensive spells.”

“You can’t be that bad at them,” the youngest Potter retorted. “You just haven’t found the right way to cast them yet.”

A laughter came from behind them. “Oh, trust him, Ben can't do defense even if it would save his life. Pardon the intrusion, I am Franny Olivier. Nice to meet you.” The new addition to the group exchanged pleasantries with Weasley and Potter who had not met her before, and Scorpius realized she was from the well known Oliviers. Her parents’ story hung like a plague over the two pure-blood families she descended from. The Oliviers were a family, whose children had been Gryffindors for the last two centuries, while the Vicia family, where her mother came from, was a pure-blood household that had a long tradition with Slytherin. The marriage of the people from the two were a disgrace to both their families’ names and they had disinherited the couple, letting them to struggle with too many children for Scorpius to count without the support of either household.

“Franny, I told you to stop ruining my reputation,” Ben bickered.

“Well, you’re doing that on your own, aren’t you, telling everyone you can’t do defensive spells?”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know?” he muttered and Em, the Hufflepuff girl, chuckled.

“You don’t mean that,” she shot back and turned to the Unexpected Ones. “I really wanted to meet you two at some point, so I should thank Professor Sinistra and this meteor shower I suppose,” Franny told them.

“Don’t remind me why we’re here…” Weasley grumbled, boredom lacing her voice.

“But why?” Potter asked.

“We are far too similar, that’s why! My Dad is Gryffindor, my Mum is Slytherin and when they married their parents wrote them off. Of course Mum doesn’t mind me being sorted to Gryffindor, but I suppose my grandparents from her side do, if they still care about us at all. They cursed my parents you know. I have a set of twin brothers, but they are squibs. It is obvious it’s my grandparents’ doing because they never approved Mum and Dad’s wedding.”

Scorpius wondered if that could be indeed the case. It was not entirely impossible, curses were a frequent thing in the world they lived in, but it would take a whole lot of skill and even more spite to achieve a curse that would cost not one but two children’s magical skills. He said nothing though, for he was of course not part of that conversation, just a pair of prying ears.

“And you two are from a long line of Gryffindors and still got to Slytherin, so can you see the connection?” She did not give anyone the chance to respond and continued. “It is okay, whichever House you are in though; there are understanding people, so if you just have friends everywhere you don’t worry about being shut out. We’re here if you don’t get along with the Slytherins. And we wouldn’t blame you.”

“Thanks,” Potter said meekly. “We appreciate it.”

“And we can handle any bullies if you need help,” Ben offered. Scorpius was suddenly really aware of Ben’s extra height, making him tower over all the other first years, looking even more intimidating than Quincy. “Although I get the feeling you’re handling yourself just fine, Rose.”

“I believe I really am,” she said without much of a hesitation, obvious in her voice that she gloated with pride at the compliment.

Scorpius rolled his eyes and considered the clapping of Professor Sinistra’s hands as his cue to head back to his own. She cleared her voice and began to speak. “I am glad you are all here on this lovely evening to watch the Andromedids. They are a phenomenon that occurs every year, radiating thanks to the constellation of Andromeda, which we will learn about later in this year. It is not very intense most of the years, so someone might consider it insignificant, but there are some years, like this one, which can prove this statement wrong.

“Now, if you would please find the constellation of Andromeda with your telescopes, we may start. You have to…” She continued giving instructions, guiding them through the process of locating the correct part of the sky, and Scorpius allowed Ryan, still overzealous about it, to do it. His thoughts were taking him to faraway places, in an alternate magical school, where it was not all the Houses that united against the Darkest Wizard of All Times, against the House of the treasonous Snakes that chose the dark side and all of their children being plagued by the distinction. He wondered what it would be like if we weren’t burdened by the responsibility he carried by his family name and if there were no old families with an allegiance to a certain Hogwarts House.

When his turn came to look through the telescope, he absently watched the burning fireballs slashing through the skies, tearing apart its endless blackness in strokes of red and orange, dense and fast like a summer storm, the image imprinting onto his memory.