Torture. Pure, horrible torture. That’s what awaited me as Mr. Filch woke me up on the morning of Halloween and told me to get up. It was already four and I had work to do. For the last few days I had been working for Mr. Filch with no time to myself, and now I was ready to tear my hair out whenever he came near me. (My hair, for the record, was not doing well from all the exposure it was getting to magical cleaning supplies. If I didn’t wear it in braids it stuck straight out from my head.)
Today I was to scrub the library. Mr. Filch and I had been spending a lot of time in the library the past few days. We would go in, and he would send me to scrub the shelves Madam Pince had taken the books off of. Then he would disappear and I wouldn’t see him until lunch. Oddly enough, I never saw Madam Pince around either. Strange.
Today I was to be cleaning the Restricted Section. It was so early that it was still dark outside, and I yawned as I grabbed a rag from the bucket next to me and began to work. There were some bonuses on working in the Restricted Section. None of the other first years came in there, and it was rare for me to encounter an older student. Even when I did, they never teased me like the first years did. Most of the time they would just step out of my way and I would continue cleaning.
But there were minuses as well. If I ever happened to accidentally open a book it tended to scream at me. Once a book attacked me when my foot got too close to me, and the black-haired Gryffindor boy I had seen laughing at Professor Munch during the Sorting had to pry it off of my foot. I had been too shy to thank him.
I carefully avoided all of the books laying on the ground as I scrubbed fiercely, imagining the bookshelf had Alta’s face on it. She was going out of her way to find me and make fun of me, preferably when I was doing something particularly dirty in a place where loads of people could see me. Sometimes a teacher would be present as well, but while they scolded her and occasionally took a few points from Gryffindor, no major punishment ever took place.
Just as I was turning around to squeeze the extra water out of my rag I backed into something that gave a horrible ‘oof’ sound. I stifled a scream- Madam Pince could never stand for noise in the library. What in Merlin’s name was it? Gulping, I reached into the empty space and felt myself grabbing onto something soft. Tugging on it, the softness flew away to reveal a bushy haired girl who was probably in her sixth or seventh year. I was about to scream for Madam Pince, quiet or not, when the girl reached down and put her hands over my mouth.
“Shh,” she whispered, looking around for signs of Madam Pince. She wasn’t there, and the girl sighed in relief.
“Who are you?” I asked fiercely as I tore away from her hands. “I could report you! Nobody’s allowed in here without a note!” I was shaking, I was so scared. Did she even go to Hogwarts? What if she was a Death Eater, sneaking into Hogwarts to kill? Normally I wouldn’t be worried, because as a Pureblood Death Eaters would most likely leave me alone. But now that I was a Squib…
“Hermione Granger,” the girl said quietly, “and I could report you as well. What’s your excuse? It’s the middle of the night, and as school prefect it’s my duty to inform you that you should be in bed. There are classes tomorrow.”
“Don’t take classes,” I muttered, suddenly turning red. “I’m apprentice to Mr. Filch, and he told me to clean the library.” Suddenly I recognized her. She was the girl sitting next to the black haired boy who had saved me from the evil book! Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger… of course! I had seen her picture in the Daily Prophet, next to Harry Potter! Wait a moment… Harry Potter. Did that mean I had been saved by Harry Potter? Merlin!
It didn’t take me that long to connect the dots. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend, skulking around the Restricted Section… alright, so I still didn’t know what was going on. But it was worth a shot in the dark.
“You’re doing something for Harry, aren’t you?” I accused, pointing my rag at her. It wasn’t quite a wand, but it was so caked with mud from the Great Hall I could always beat her over the head with it. “Don’t lie, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” It was the only reason that made sense. Hermione seemed nervous.
“No!” But she was panicking, I could tell. “I’m just… patrolling. For prefect duties.” Please. I rolled my eyes.
“If you don’t tell me what you’re doing,” I began, “I’ll tell Madam Pince you were sneaking into the Restricted Section and she’ll ban you from the library. She’ll do it, too, I saw her put up wards against a third year last week.” He had been eating chocolate and spilled some on his books. But it was alright, Madam Pomfrey only had to give him a few potions to get him back to normal. I smirked, satisfied with my blackmail, but then Hermione Granger pulled out her wand.
“I’m really, really sorry about this,” she apologized, “but I’ve been practicing the spell, and I know the theory by heart, so it should only erase the last few minutes.” What? I backed up against the bookshelf, gulping. “Obliv-”
“Wait!” I cried, rushing forward and grabbing the wand from her hand. “Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret later!” I danced around in a circle, jabbing the wand in front of me. How did you use one of these things, anyway? I had never gotten the opportunity to try. Hermione leaned forward to grab her wand back, and whirling it in an exaggerated way I shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!” It was the only spell that came to mind- I had seen the first years practicing it in the hallways.
Nothing happened. The wand seemed to droop slightly, and I drooped right along with it as I dropped the wand and slid down onto the floor. I guess I really was a Squib then. Funny. I suppose I had hoped that the wand would work, but even the hopes were gone now. May as well let Hermione curse me.
“Do your worst,” I shrugged, resting my head against the wooden bookshelf. “Do that Obbly curse. It doesn’t matter anymore.” But I saw Hermione pocket her wand and kneel down to my level, looking concerned.
“You’re a Squib?” I nodded. I wouldn’t cry. I’d done enough of that in the last few days. I would be strong like Mother and Father. I still hadn’t heard from them. A couple of days ago I had written them a long, long letter describing my life, but just yesterday the owl had returned with the letter still unopened. Stupid owl, it couldn’t even find my house. Mother and Father were probably sick with worry! So last night I had sent the letter with a different owl. But they had been strong. I knew they wouldn’t let other people know how worried they were about me. They would be keeping up appearances. I had to do the same.
No, I didn’t. I didn’t. I knew my life was horrible. Would it be cowardly to admit it to a stranger? But appearances… they were so important. Weren’t they?
Ever since I had gotten to Hogwarts everything I thought I knew had disappeared. The girl who hated me most was a Gryffindor. A pureblood friend in Ravenclaw had abandoned me. The other students hated me. I would never be prefect like my parents. I suppose I would never be perfect like them either. I cleaned, even.
So why was I still holding on to my old life? Well, I knew the answer to that one. I was scared. My old life had been so perfect. Perfect looks, perfect family, and perfect little girl. Maybe I had to let go of that life and try to accept that I wasn’t going to change. Maybe I had to let go of the old ways and open my hand for the new ones.
I didn’t know. I just didn’t know. But I knew what I had to about Hermione Granger.
“Let me help,” I whispered as I leaned forward. Hermione shook her head no, but I wasn’t giving up. “Filch showed me some of the secret passages over the summer, I can go into all the common rooms, I don’t have to worry about classes or homework. I clean all of the teacher’s offices. Let me help, Hermione. Please.” Hermione looked troubled.
“Fine,” she whispered. “But you can’t tell anybody. Harry’s going to be angry as it is. Can you come back to the common room with me?” I nodded. This was more important than shelves, and I knew he wasn’t allowed to actually string me up from the ceiling because he complained about it on a regular basis. “Give me back the cloak,” she added, holding out her hand. I had almost forgotten about it. Pulling me up from the ground Hermione pointed at the shelves, muttering, “Scourgify.” They were instantly clean, and as she threw the cloak over the both of us we carefully exited the Restricted Section Hermione began to explain.
“This is an invisibility cloak,” she began. “Nobody can see us, but they can hear us, so be quiet until we get out of the library.” I nodded. She was hunched over so that the cloak covered both of us, and as we tiptoed out the door I caught a glimpse of Mr. Filch and Madam Pince. They were sitting at the front desk. And they were holding hands while they stared into each others eyes.
I wanted to throw up, but Hermione hurried me out of the library before I got the chance. As soon as we were in the hallway I let out a shudder, which Hermione smiled at as she shooed me into one of the secret passageways.
“They do that every night,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. What’s your name?”
“Cassandra Pralent,” I answered, and she nodded.
“Alright, Cassandra.” She pulled the cloak off of both of us and sat down on the floor. I smiled at her pajamas. They were covered with little lambs. “Have you ever heard of a man called Lord Voldemort?”
I gave her a look. “Just because I’m a Squib and eleven doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” I snapped.
“Sorry,” she said with a little smile, “I wasn’t sure. Then you know how Harry defeated him as a baby, and how he’s been fighting him on and off for the last few years.” Was she ever going to tell me something I didn’t already know? The entire Wizarding world already knew that! “Well before he tried to kill Harry, Voldemort, he… split his soul.” I gasped. Alright, that was definitely something the entire world may not have known. “And he put them into things. Something important to him. Like his diary, or a ring belonging to Slytherin. There are six in all, and they’re called Horcruxes. So far we’ve gotten rid of two, and we think we know what two others are, but we still have to find two more. That’s why we’re back at Hogwarts. Harry thinks they’re here.”
Wow. An entire plot to kill You-Know-Who, right in the school! And I was going to help! Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“What are the two you know about but can’t find?” I asked. What sort of things held a soul, anyway?
“A locket belonging to Slytherin and a cup belonging to Hufflepuff,” she answered. I noticed how worried she looked, talking about the Horcruxes. Wait a moment… a cup belonging to Hufflepuff?
“Hermione,” I said slowly. “Do you know what this cup belonging to Hufflepuff looks like?”
“A golden cup with two handles and a badger on it, Harry says,” she answered promptly.
“The sort of cup that would look very decorative on the mantel of a fireplace,” I croaked out, not believing it, “and go very well with the furniture in the parlor of a mansion?” And I swear, the color completely drained out of Hermione’s face.
“Cassandra,” she said, “you know where a Horcrux is?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, “I know where a Horcrux is.”
Late Bloomer by Just Tink
Chapter Notes: thanks again to my great beta, and to all you readers for waiting patiently!