Chapter Text
Finally, it was time to return home. To Hogwarts. Bustling children crowded each train compartment, first years to seventh years. It feels like every year more people join Hogwarts. My mothers scarf wrapped delicately around my chilled neck. She gave it to me when I started Hogwarts around two years ago, as an emblem of good luck and that despite her not being with me, she’s always there. The smell of oak and ivory was enough to calm my increasing nerves.
Emmerich was already seated in a compartment, his black cat nestled in his lap. I swear he treats that pet like gold, better than how he treats his friends and family at times.
‘Nearly missed you there, how did you wrangle an empty one?’ I ask. Emmerich sharply looks up at my presence, away from the busy crowd of onlooking parents sending off their children. I close the sliding door behind me.
‘Ahh look who showed up. I was beginning to think you finally had enough of me.’ His voice was sarcastic. Emmerich was wearing his favourite black hoodie along with his favourite pair of jeans. I call them his favourite because it's all he seems to wear.
I placed my luggage onto the top shelf, moving a pile of old sweet wrappers. ‘Where is Inez? I didn't see her on the platform.’
Emmerich shrugged and stroked his cat, his eyes darting to the door. ‘Always late she is, late to every single potions class last year.’ He smirked. Just as I took my seat, a black haired girl swung the door open and jumped into the carriage, her ponytail nearly coming undone.
‘Made it.’ Inez huffed out, her cheeks were rosy red and clothes tangled up. Roth almost jumped out of his seat. ‘I nearly missed the train, ugh stupid floo powder took me to the wrong place.’
The train finally started moving, a loud horn disrupting the words I was about to say.
As we moved along the platform, parents and young children waved goodbye, some crying but some looking a little too joyous.
My mum had never dropped me off at the station, she said goodbye to me at home and left me on my way. It does sting when you look into the crowd of bodies and it’s empty.
‘Roth you honestly still own that cat, seriously, how has it not run away yet?’ Inez sniggered.
Her harsh humour rubs a lot of people the wrong way, including myself on occasion. I'm sure it slightly plays with Emmerich's mind late at night, but he dares to show an ounce of hurt in front of us.
‘When are people going to start calling me Emmerich? It’s getting old.’ He slumps further into the seat, allowing the cat, Mot, to jump next to him and slither around till she found a comfy position.
No one called Emmerich by his first name, Professor Hooch called him Roth, his second name, during first year and it kind of stuck with everyone.
‘Never, you’ll take it to your grave.’ I replied. He rolls his eyes and picks up his newspaper next to him. The Daily Prophet was plastered in bold capitals on the front. The first picture being of a rather shabby looking guy who was relentlessly yelling in Azkaban clothing.
‘Who’s that? He looks awfully upset.’ I ask.
‘Sirius Black, he murdered a bunch of people. It is insane how we have magic that allows us to do almost everything we desire, yet can't keep psychopathic lunatics in a cell!’ Roth's voice went slightly higher pitched as he exclaimed his point. His hair slithered down in front of his face, leaving strands perfectly in place.
I'd admit that Roth was handsome. For some reason, it was already clear he had grown over summer. Last year he was at my exact height and now his legs barely fit in the compartment. He also grew his hair out, what once was barely a buzz cut was now locks of dark blonde hair.
Roth is one of my best friends however, and the thought of kissing him or even hugging him for too long made me gag. He's the older brother I never got.
In first year potions class, Roth and I were standing around the same table, brewing Wiggenweld potion. A potion that can heal a witch or wizard of sleeping draught or draught of living death.
Unfortunately, Roth has never particularly been good at potions and his Wiggenweld potion spilled over the cauldron and onto the table. It dripped down so far the people next door had some seeping into their classroom.
As amusing as I found it in the moment, after the class I found him crying in a small corner of Hogwarts. He was so small and fragile, a part of me felt bad. The rest of the evening I spent helping him make a correct Wiggenweld potion, until Snape caught us and we had detention together for six weeks straight.
My friendship with Roth just grew greater from that moment. We became inseparable, or rather he clung to me slightly. I suppose people look down on our relationship, Rolf is a Gryffindor, and me being a Slytherin has never exactly made us see eye to eye on everything.
People in Slytherin often tease me about hanging out with a Gryffindor, our sworn enemies for decades. However, Roth is the minority who I trust. I wouldn't trade him for anyone else.
‘Suppose the ministry should turn their attention to issues that truly matter.’ Inez held her gaze up from her sketchbook, eyes dark. ‘How am I going to survive another year of Herbology?’ She scoffed.
————
After about at least an hour of constant talking from Inez and Roth, I woke up from a deep dream I had been having.
In the dream, I was fighting off a wizard with dark robes and shiny hair. They were strong, and clearly used all their defensive spells against me. It felt so real. Like I had been there in the flesh.
Before I have a chance to speak up on their ongoing conversation about which house is better, Slytherin or Gryffindor, the train comes to an abrupt stop. Everything goes silent, like the world pauses. The lights flicker before engulfing us in blackness.
‘What the fuck. Are we broken down?’ Roth presses his face up to the window. No use of doing so, the weather had changed and darkness had fallen across the valleys surrounding us.
My breath quickens, the train dropped very quickly in temperature. Every breath I take is accompanied by a cloud of visible air. A sharp sound of ice creeps closer, the window freezes up from the inside. Ice in September?
My body tenses, everything around me turns solemn. The feeling is deep and dark, like nothing I've felt before. I shut my eyes, thinking I'm still living the dream I was having only moments ago. As I close my eyes, I envision my dad, he standing right there and-
The lights turn back on in the hallway and compartment. My eyes strain to see again. ‘What the fucking hell just happened.’ My voice is quaky and unsteady. I clear my throat.
Inez and Roth looked equally shocked and confused. The train starts running again like nothing happened. I rest my head back, feeling the start of a migraine come on.
‘No idea, but my one guess is it was Dementors. Only such vile creatures like that can summon such an impending doom and coldness.’ Roth stood up and opened the sliding door, peering his head out.
‘Hey, come on loser. Don’t be so nosy and come back. Whatever the hell was causing that is clearly gone.’ Inez pulled her legs up where Roth once sat and shut her eyes, releasing a deep sigh.
The mood shifted back to normal and the tense cloud of despair lifted. Roth scoffed and sat back down next to me. The sudden smell of smoke hit me. I cough and my eyes water slightly.
‘Gosh, have you been smoking?’ I stare over at Inez for validation, but find her snoring already.
‘No! I don't partake in killing my body thanks.’ He pulls out his newspaper again and continues back onto the disgrace of the ministry and their lack of concern about a serial killer on the loose. I'd have to admit, it is pretty terrifying having a murderer strolling around the streets.
He'd never come to Hogwarts though, no way. In my eyes, Hogwarts was safe from danger. I mean nothing insane has happened the first two years. Okay sure, last year the school nearly got closed down because everyone believed that the Chamber Of Secrets had been reopened. But nothing really came of it after a while, and surely if it had been reopened you-know-who would be having a field day of murdering.
I did hear that a few people got petrified though, but I mean, no one died.
————
Hogwarts Station felt more whimsical and alive than ever. Maybe because of the strange incident on the train. It didn't matter though, I was back where I belonged.
Hagrid guided the first years down to the boats, while everyone else took the usual boring stroll down towards the castle entrance. Only small candles lit up the winding pathway that often stopped or guided off into other smaller pathways.
Roth huffed and moaned the entire way, complaining of a backache.
‘For the love of Merlin, group up, and stop breathing in my direction your breath stinks.’ Inez stepped further onto the grass.
On arriving at Hogwarts, the castle was the exact same. It still felt as magical as ever though, and the smell was one you couldn't replace. Magic was intertwined in the walls and air, everything was invisibly glowing with it.
The smell of old books and candle wax illuminated the halls to come to life. Well, I suppose moving pictures helped greatly with that.
Every year, students are ordered to change into their robes for the dining ceremony, where first years are placed into houses.
I remember the sorting ceremony so well. Nerves come to life when waiting for your name to be read of a long script that Professor Mcgonagall held. I remember being one of the first, having everyone's eyes laced onto me, waiting with patient breaths to see what the hat would say.
To my shock horror, the hat bellowed ‘Slytherin!’ And loud cheers echoed from the far right of the room. My mother was a Hufflepuff, so my expectations didn't stray far from being in that house. All summer I had mentally prepared myself to dress in yellow colours despite my hatred for it.
Maybe a part of me stereotyped Slytherin, I mean who doesn't. People who come out of Slytherin never typically end up generous people. But I had to say, it does give you a sort of superiority complex. When you walk past Hufflepuffs, you hold your head a little high.
I hate myself for it, but I knew from not many months after that I belonged in that house. On returning owls with my mum, I got the impression she was a little mortified.
Inez is also in Slytherin, we share a dorm and have since first year. The first night, we stayed up by the window that looks out onto the black lake and waited for merpeople to show up. Of course, none came.
Inez is as Slytherin as it gets. Her family is a long line of Pure-Bloods. The Avery family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Despite her family falling into the life of death eaters and dark magic, Inez has a specific distaste for using the dark arts after her mother became seriously unwell under a curse when Inez was younger.
It led to her untimely death, I don't think Inez has ever healed, understandably.
My bed was just how I had left it before summer, the silk sheets pressed deeply into the side of the bed. A long green blanket laid on the end of the bed, perfect for the cold castle nights. I quickly unpacked my luggage, laying each piece of clothes neatly into the bedside closet.
Inez walked in, dripping from the shower. A quick wave of her wand and she dried, pulling her hair quickly into a bun.
‘I don't think you know how happy I am to be back here, home couldn't get worse.’ She slumped down onto the bed, staring into the tall and never ending ceiling.
‘Tell me about it, my mum hasn't stopped weeping in her room all summer. And don't get me started on her cooking fish, chips and peas every single night.’ I grimace at the thought of looking at another fish.
Inez laughed, pulling her school uniform on. Soon after, two other girls walk in.
Charlotte and Carmen were both equally as annoying as the other. Charlotte wasn't so bad, if you got her alone without her anti-Christ friends she was funny and made good conversation.
Carmen, however, had a particularly devilish personality. On the first day of school, her red hair made a bold entrance when she demanded she get the bed furthest from the door. Not that it made the world of a difference.
Her bossy and selfish attitude makes her horribly dis likeable, she adored making others miserable for her own self pleasure.
‘Look what the cat dragged in, spicy red.’ Inez grinned, trying to pull her shirt down. Carmen rolled her eyes, she does that often. Her face is in a constant grump, the only time I've seen her smile was when she purposely told the wrong recipe for a potion to Seamus Finnigan. The poor boy had the colour blue on his face for two weeks.
‘This place is a mess already. I haven't even unpacked yet, could you two have any less decorum for the place?’ Carmen slammed three luggage's down on the bed, a loud thud followed. ‘And never call me spicy red again, you know I hate that.’
Inez called her spicy red everyday last year, it ended up with Carmen casting a Calvorio curse on her. Luckily, Inez’s hair grew back a few days later.
I unwrapped my mothers scarf and placed it on the pole of the bed, the golden specks twinkled in the soft light. It still smelt like my mothers perfume, and I hope it stays that way until I see her again.
But for now, being back in my second home was perfect.