A Rough Start for Some
Leah awoke the next morning feeling well rested and refreshed. She stretched her stiff arms up over her head, gazing out the window and across the green grounds below, noticing that the sun was already high in the cloudless sky. Beside her, Gwen was stirring and Leah leisurely pulled on some robes over her dressing gown before heading to the bathroom and washing up.
When she returned, Sarah and Nia were long gone and Gwen was sitting up waiting for her. She stood up as Leah approached and together they ventured out of the statue hole and down the long winding staircases and hidden corridors until at last they found themselves before the tall doors to the Great Hall.
Breakfast was already well under way when they finally entered the huge room with its giant pillars and tables. Gwen and Leah found a couple of seats across from their two roommates “ although they hadn’t really hit it off too greatly the night before (Gwen thought them snobby, and Leah had to admit that she kind of agreed) “ and started piling mounds of sausages, pancakes, and fruits onto their plates. After the meal, timetables were handed out to all students and they were left alone to find their way to their first ever class of their magic school career.
It soon became apparent to all of them that magic was not as easy as the grown-ups in their lives had made it look; there was loads more to it than just waving a wand and saying a few nonsense words. The classes were difficult and there were mounds of homework that never let up, but it was rewarding, and Leah wouldn’t have traded it for anything else in the world.
Three times a week they had to study the night stars through telescopes from the top of the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower in the school. Monday and Wednesday mornings were devoted to Herbology, where the Talos first years joined up with the ones from Athos House to plant and re-pot a number of strange, and often dangerous, magical plants and fungi. This class was taught by Professor Platt, a tiny, stick-thin witch with blonde hair and a small, pig-like nose. At the end of each session, every student swore that they left covered in more dirt than they were sure had even been in the greenhouses to begin with.
History of Magic was largely agreed upon by everybody to be the most boring subject. They all had to sit and listen as Professor Monroe droned on in his deep monotone voice about topics that had happened hundreds of years ago, and which nobody alive still cared about. Potions, too, was difficult and tedious, but the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant in the well lit dungeon classroom, and the teacher was nice enough for it to be reasonably tolerable; Leah enjoyed the smells of the freshly brewed potions that always lingered in the air long after the cauldrons had been cleaned up and put away.
Gwen hated potions. She always became impatient and tried to rush the process, only proceeding in messing up whatever they’d been brewing together beyond repair. Many times after the semester had started they were forced to begin from scratch, something that only frustrated Gwen more, and which usually ended with Leah finishing the assignment all by herself.
Despite being the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall also taught Transfiguration, something about the school already being understaffed as it was and her being the best for the job. It was clear from the very first lesson that Leah was correct in her assumption about her being someone not wise to cross. She surprised the entire group from the start by turning her large wooden desk into a pig and back again.
“Transfiguration is probably the most difficult and complex sort of magic that you will learn at Kootenay,” she lectured them, her eyes narrow and stern, and her voice hard. “It will require a dedication and will that is not needed for many other branches of magic. In this class “,” her eyes scrutinized the room, ““ I will not tolerate any foolishness or stupidity; you will be asked to leave immediately should that ever be the case.” And then she changed herself into a tabby cat and the class erupted in applause.
They started off small, just trying to turn matches into needles. They were all dismayed at how, despite her warnings that not much was to be expected of them yet, not one person had managed to turn the match silver or make it even slightly more pointy, or indeed anything at all that might make it possible for it to be discernible as a needle. They all left mumbling curses and threats under their breath and vowing to win over the treacherous subject before it won them.
During their first ever Charms lesson, Professor Thomas read their names off of a long scroll to check for attendance. He made his way slowly down the list, calling names, having people raise their hands when they heard theirs’ so as to place a face to the name. He read Leah’s and she raised her hand, and he moved on quickly afterwards, polite but indifferent.
Sometimes, however, he paused, maybe at a name he recognized from his own school days or from somewhere else. Cory Weasley was one of these people and when Thomas read his name almost disbelievingly, he looked up and scrutinized Cory’s face for several moments. Then he shook himself and moved on.
They spent the better half of the period copying down his messily scrawled instructions on the board on the Levitating Charm. For a while, only the soft scratching of quills on parchment could be heard. Then he had them all practice swishing and flicking their wands in a fashion that was required for the spell to work. When they were done that, he placed a single feather for every two people, which they were to share between themselves as they practiced the charm.
“Now the incantation for the Levitating Charm, class, is Wingardium Leviosa. Everyone, repeat after me!”
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
“Good, good,” Thomas called. “Now, out with your wands! Let me see you all practice on your feathers. And don’t forget: swish and flick!”
Leah turned to her right side to glance at Gwen, whom she was partnering with. She quirked up an eyebrow and asked, “Ready?”
Gwen did not seem extraordinarily positive that she could do it at all, but she put on a misleading upbeat and confident tone. “I was born ready. How about you?”
“Not sure yet. You can go first then.”
She smirked and pushed up her sleeves. “All right “ Wingardium Leviosa!”
The end result was disappointingly anti-climatic. It already seemed as if Charms was bound to be just as frustrating and mind-numbing as Transfiguration. The feather did not twitch, it remained still on the desktop; and Gwen stood with her wand pointing at it, a scowl darkening her features as absolutely nothing happened.
“Here, let me try,” said Leah. Gwen stepped aside and crossed her arms over her chest as Leah took her place before the feather. “Win-gard-ium Leviosa!” She emphasized the middle of the start of the incantation and did the necessary little swish and flick of her wand.
This time, the feather fluttered a centimetre above the wooden desk, although not for long and then it quickly gave up, falling back down with a lazy swipe. Leah shrugged and Gwen blew out the large breath she’d been holding, and they both glared down at the stubborn object of their scorn, displeasure written clear upon their faces.
“We just need more practice, that’s all,” she suggested.
“How can you still be so optimistic, Leah?”
Gwen tried to float the feather once more. Only one end of it decided to just feebly cooperate and Gwen spent many more minutes trying to telepathically will the other end up too. It didn’t work and she lifted the spell in a huff.
“Of all the rotten “ ”
“Why don’t you let me see you try, Mr Weasley?” said Professor Thomas’s voice from the other end of the classroom. He hadn’t spoken once since they had started practicing the spell, but now he spoke loud and clear, and the entire class promptly dropped their own attempts to watch, their curiosities peaked.
Clearly uncomfortable with being in the spotlight, Cory performed the spell, but like Leah and Gwen’s, his own feather remained solidly on his desk. “I can’t do it,” he sighed after several unsuccessful tries and looked up into Thomas’s expectant brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Just try again, Mr Weasley. I’m sure “ with your family “ just a few more times “ ”
But the feather refused to move. Leah saw Thomas shooting quick glances between the feather and Cory, and he seemed eager and sad and amused all at the same time. He pondered between them for a few more seconds, and then he seemed to come to some sort of decision because he shot one last hopeful look before moving on to Cory’s partner, Sean.
Leah remained distracted for the rest of the class. What was that look that she had noticed between Cory and Thomas? Why had the professor been so eager to see him get the charm correct so soon? There was something strange between them. But there was nothing she could do for it now, and when the bell signalling the start of the next class came and Gwen was tugging on her arm for them to go, Leah left hurriedly without a backwards glance.
The end of the week dawned grey and stormy outside as a ferocious storm brewed in from the mountains to the grounds and this dreary weather reflected only ever more strongly on the faces of all the Talos first years, who had been greatly anticipating spending their first free afternoon outside, basking in the sun. The rain had not yet started, but the clouds were ominous and oppressing, and everybody knows just how hard it is to remain in a good mood after Mother Nature alters your plans unexpectedly for you.
They all slumped through the morning meal, barely tasting the delectable food as it passed down their throats, before leaving for class. Today they would be starting Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Masen, and had they not already heard numerous horror stories from other students about their new teacher, it may have been a subject they would have looked forward to. Currently, it was just another bleak spot on their already ruined day.
The DADA classroom was situated in the farthest corner of the castle from the Great Hall, close by the Potions’ dungeons, and down a dark corridor lit only by a few flickering candles that cast orange spots against the adjacent walls. Not wanting to be late, Leah and Gwen ran to the room and caught two empty seats at the same table as Cory Weasley. He didn’t seem to notice them as they joined him.
Professor Masen swept into the room, his perpetual scowl firmly in place upon his face, and his long black robes billowing behind him. He strode up the centre aisle between the desks and, with a great air of contempt and displeasure, proceeded to lecture the whole class on his expectations for this term.
“You are here,” he began, and Leah was surprised to hear that his voice was calm and smoother than the finest threaded silk, “because McGonagall and the Ministry want you all to be able to protect yourselves from anything that may wish harm upon you.”
As he glared at them, his lips lifted up into the slightest, most natural looking sneer.
“I, however, disagree. You are children; the matters of adults are of no concern to you; you needn’t learn defence when you have fully learned wizards and witches available to protect you. What could you, an eleven year old child, do against an enemy that would never inconvenience himself enough to hurt you?”
Leah stared astounded at Masen, as was the entire class. One brave Chiron girl sitting in the front row “ the one with the black curls Leah had noticed at the sorting “ timidly raised her hand.
“Excuse me, Sir. But what will we be learning then, if not defence?”
Masen’s gaze turned to her and his black eyes spit fire. “I did not proclaim that I would not be teaching defence, Miss …?”
“Bennett, Sir. Jaida Bennett.”
“Miss Bennett, as I was saying, you will of course still be taught how to defend yourself. I was merely stating my own opinion of the matter.”
“But, you said “”
“You will still learn how to defend yourself,” interrupted Masen furiously, “but the expectations of the Canadian Ministry are sorely lacking. I will teach you on my own terms, in my own way, and they do not require talking!” And he jabbed at the chalkboard with his wand, making a series of complicated notes on protective jinxes appear.
“Others would have only had you on simple, trifling spells; ones hardly worth mentioning, least of all learning. This list of curses, on the other hand, are actually useful. Today you will all copy down the theory and directions from the board and at the end of class we will practice them, and find out exactly how mindless some of you really are. Now get to work. And no talking!”
Without protest, the class started copying down the note on the board. It was way too quiet “ nothing more than the soft rustle of clothing and some nervous coughing “ and the absence of sound made concentrating nearly impossible. Masen sat unperturbed at his desk, seeming relaxed for the first time since the period had begun.
Leah was now regretting her previous assumption that Professor Masen’s voice was at all calm or soothing. She’d been wrong, very wrong: it was colder than steel, as tough as boulders, as fearsome as a hungry tiger in a cage. It’s immovable disapproval could pierce you harder and deeper than any bullet would; and Leah had been afraid as she’d listened to him, afraid to even breathe out of line.
He had them team up in pairs once they’d finished the note. Leah and Gwen took out their wands and found a clear space in the room where they could practice their long list of hexes and spells. But they were easier said and written then done, and as Masen walked from pair to pair to study them, he only sniffed and frowned disdainfully.
“It is clear,” he said, “that too much credit has been awarded upon you. Your performances are dismal and I can see that I will have my work cut out for me if you shall all pass your final exams at the end of the year.”
His eyes travelled the room and landed upon a head of red hair far in the back.
“You!” shouted Mason. “Up here!”
Glancing worriedly around at his fellow classmates, Cory Weasley trudged glumly up to the front and stood before Professor Masen, clearly dismayed at having to be the focal point of yet another lesson. Masen’s wand arm twitched, and Cory nearly jumped out of his skin, backing into the desk behind him and stumbling over a stray chair in his shock.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Cory,” Cory stammered. “C-Cory Weasley.”
Leah thought she saw the professor’s dark eyes flare, but then she blinked and when she looked again, they appeared just as hard and as dead as always.
“Show me your Disarming spell, Weasley. Use that one “ ” He gestured at Sean, ““ to practice.”
“Y-yes, sir.” He took his stance in front of Sean. “Expelliarmus!”
Cory waved his wand and a bright scarlet-red light shot out; it flew around the room, missed the intended target by a mile, and hit a pile of jars of pickled toads, eyeballs, and other nauseating things in the corner, which promptly shattered upon contact, covering the whole class in a slimy mess.
Masen looked furious. He rounded on Cory, who was trying vainly to force himself to simply shrink out of existence, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “WEASLEY, TEN POINTS FROM TALOS!”
A frightened hush fell. With a wave of his wand the jars were repaired and Masen continued glaring murderously at Cory. A moment later there was a sob, the slam of a heavy door, and then Cory was gone, his scampering footsteps fading quickly down the corridor.
Masen shooed Sean back to his seat and started pacing in front of the rest of the class, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Despicable,” he whispered into the air, “utterly dismal. Now somebody has to go after him.”
Sean stood up, clearly intent on seeing after his friend, but Leah matched him before he could get a word out and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll go.”
And as Leah walked out she shook her head at her own inanity. She liked Cory, and she wanted to help him; she just had no clue of where to look for him. And when she did find him: what would she say then? How could she bring comfort to a lonesome, probably inconsolable boy?
She wandered the empty halls, eyes searching for any place that Cory might hide. Now that she thought about it, she wished she’d just let Sean go after him; they were roommates and he knew Cory much better than her. And although she only wanted to make sure that he was okay, she knew that if she were in his shoes at this moment, she would want to be left alone too.
Although the castle itself wasn’t overly large, it was full of winding paths and secret crevices, making it a great place for a game of Hide and Seek, or for a good bout of misery. Leah peaked her head in some empty classrooms, under stairwells, and behind statues and she was just about to try the next floor, when she heard muffled sobs coming from behind a wall-length tapestry of a young boy sitting atop of what looked like a giant chess knight a good ways away from the Defence classroom.
She gently lifted the edge of the heavy fabric and peaked her head behind it, where a small body with a mess of red hair was hunched over and crying into his arms. It was Cory, and her heart clenched in shared pain as she looked at him. She stepped through into the hidey-hole and whispered, “Hey.”
His head jerked up and he tried to hide the fact that he was quickly wiping his face dry. “What “ what do you want?”
Leah stood frozen. What was she supposed to do now? “I … um, never mind. Just came to see if you were okay, but I-I’ll leave.”
A pause, then, “You can stay if you want.”
She smiled hesitantly and sat down beside him, leaning her back against the brick wall. Neither of them spoke for several moments, and then Cory cleared his throat and said, “What are you doing here, Leah?”
She gazed at the wall opposite, not really seeing it. “I came to see you, like I said. Masen was out of line. I mean, some of those spells he was having us do, they were third or fourth year level at the least! I can barely make a feather fly, let alone stun somebody!”
“Yeah.”
“So you shouldn’t feel bad about messing up,” she rambled. “Nobody else blames you. And you shouldn’t let Masen get to you, because he doesn’t care, and he’ll just continue to bring you down until you show him you aren’t as stupid as he thinks.”
He laughed darkly. “Oh, that’s rich! I didn’t see anybody else standing up to him, unless you count that Jaida Bennett girl, and he wasn’t making her feel like the scum on somebody’s shoe.”
“There’s no need to get tetchy,” she snapped. She lowered her voice, trying to make it comforting again. “I know you’ve had it rough this last week: homework, being away from home, and then Masen … I just wanted you to know that this week’s not been easy for anyone. And, you can talk to me about it, if you want.”
He sighed. “You’re a good person, Leah. It’s just … while all of what you said is true, it’s more than that, it’s “ the teachers, they all expect me to do great things because of who my dad is, who my uncles and aunts were, and I don’t want to disappoint them, but … it’s not that easy.
“You see, my family was really involved with the war in Britain, and they’re all dead, and the only one left from that side of the family is my dad. I know he loves me, but sometimes I think that me and my mom and my siblings aren’t enough for him anymore; that he wants his own siblings and his own parents back. That he wants England back.”
“But that’s not fair on you,” replied Leah heatedly. “You’re not them, you’re your own person!”
“Yeah, well, they don’t look at it that way.”
There was silence again. And then Cory stood up and slipped out the hole into the corridor. Leah stared at where he’d been a second ago, confused, before following him.
“Cory?” she called, “Wait “”
The words halted in her throat when she saw him, more tears gathering in eyes that seemed lost and scared. He was looking at the tapestry they’d just been behind, and when she stood beside him, he pointed at the thread-woven red-haired and freckled boy.
“This castle is full of memoirs,” he said, “and he is just one of them. There are paintings and statues like this at every corner, waiting to remind me.”
“Who is he?”
“My youngest uncle, Ronald; he’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Cory.”
He shrugged. “I never knew him. How can I miss him if I never even knew him?” For the first time since she’d come to him, he looked straight at her. “All of this history, and I’m a part of it, but I’m not, because nobody talks about it and I’m expected to be like them, like him “ brave, and loyal, and a master at chess “ but I just can’t, because then I’d be taking his place in their hearts and while they may think that they want that, I know that deep down they really don’t and they would only resent me for it later.”
“How did he die?”
“You-know-W … Voldemort “ at least, they think. They say I should say his name. ‘Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,’ or some rubbish. Anyways, he did it personally, at the Second Battle of Hogwarts eleven years ago. It was the Killing Curse. And with him his girlfriend, Hermione Granger.”
His eyes narrowed and he whispered, his voice full of jealousy and awe, “Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, best friends to Harry Potter: the Golden Trio! And my dad is Charlie Weasley, second eldest brother of Ron.”
He turned away. “Can you keep a secret, Leah?”
His question startled her; she’d been lost in the scene depicted in the tapestry on the wall: a young Ron Weasley, no older than they were, sitting astride a huge stone horse. The picture wasn’t animated, but it felt real to Leah all the same. Ron had his fist raised in the air, his whole being radiating courage and determination, as he faced his white-stoned opponents. Even with his face covered in dirt and grime he seemed a hero.
“Of course,” said Leah, tearing her gaze away from it.
“I lied before. I am related to those Weasleys that Gwen was talking about on the train.” He thought for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face, and added, “And because of that, everybody in this school could be in danger right now.”
As the bell announcing the end of classes rang he walked away, leaving Leah alone and, if possible, feeling even worse for him than before.