Chapter Text
Erin Faces Consequences
7th of October 1995
The door to the dorm is already open when Erin reaches it, sliding in hurriedly.
Lavender and Parvati look up as she walks in but, for once, she has better things to do than wonder what they’re saying or thinking or getting up to. She’s already halfway to her bed when they shrug and turn away from her. They’re bent over something on Lavender’s bed, exchanging excited whispers, and Erin wishes she could see what they’re looking at from her position.
Instead, she rifles through her clothes, taking her hair out of its ponytail and wiggling out of her school skirt. She runs her hand through faded red and gold, a reminder that she needs to take better care of her dyed strands, while she considers her options.
She doesn’t usually bother changing out of her school uniform after classes, at least not until she can get into her pajamas, but she also doesn’t usually have plans beyond infiltrating Ravenclaw Tower. Besides, she’s starting to grow tired of the tight tie, the plain white shirt, and the robes that always get caught on door handles and other protruding objects. Maybe she should start changing more often.
She’ll have to ask Harini if wearing casual clothes to dinner is forbidden, or simply discouraged.
A loud meow snaps her out of her thoughts and pulls her attention away from her pile of clothes, towards the kneazle who is now prowling up and down Erin’s bed demandingly.
“I don’t have time for you, Crooky,” she says, trying to shoo the kneazle away. He only meows louder, pouncing onto the closest dress he finds. Erin curses and picks him up, wishing he were a tiny bit lighter. “Seriously, I have things to do. You still have food and water in your bowl, I can see them from over here.”
“He just wants attention.”
Erin’s jaw is clenched when she turns around to stare at Parvati, who’s looking at her with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s bending down and cooing at Crookshanks, who eagerly goes to her and curls up in her arms contentedly. They both shoot her a scornful glance, and Erin rolls her eyes.
“I have things to do, Parvati,” she says, casting a quick tempus and cursing again when she notices how much time has passed. She didn’t realize how much time she’d spent with Alice and Sally in the common room.
Before she can second-guess herself, she grabs her favorite pair of jeans and the jumper Hani lent her at the beginning of the year. She’s halfway through taking off the rest of her uniform when Parvati lets out a huff.
“Got a problem?” She asks without looking back. She really is going to be late if she allows Parvati to goad her into another argument.
“The bathroom is there for a reason, you know?” Parvati snarks back.
Erin forgets how prudish the other girls are. She isn’t sure if it’s a boarding school thing or a British thing, but all of them – bar Harini, who couldn’t seem to care less – hate when she gets changed in their dormitory rather than the bathroom.
She’s not sure why, since she’s the one who saves them all time on mornings when their bathroom is particularly busy. And it’s not like they have to look at her. They can turn away if they don’t want to see her tights and underwear.
“I’m in a rush,” she says again, quickly pulling her jeans up and sticking her wand between her teeth while she fixes the wrinkles in the fabric. It goes into her extended pocket as soon as she’s satisfied with the overall look. Harini’s jumper is a faded shade of green and looks great with her hair, which she pulls up into another ponytail for lack of time. “Look, all done!”
She throws her arms out to show Parvati she’s fully dressed again, then shuffles back into her school shoes, wishing she had the time to find her favorite pair of sneakers. They’d go perfectly with her outfit.
“Still, you know we’re not comfortable–”
“Please get over yourself,” Erin scoffs. “I never get naked in here, and I never take advantage of the space unless I’m in a hurry. You don’t hear me complaining when you use the dorm as your personal training ground.”
“Actually, I hear plenty of complaints,” Parvati glares at her, though Erin knows she’s made her point when the other girl starts walking back to Lavender, who’s done a wonderful job of ignoring them.
“Is Harini in the bathroom?” She asks instead of needling either of her dormmates – though the temptation is always there. “I was supposed to meet her here five minutes ago, and I didn’t see her in the common room.”
“Oh, you’re the one she was waiting for?” Lavender says dispassionately, finally looking at Erin. “Yeah, she’s in the bathroom. I thought she’d be hanging out with Sophie or Fay.”
“Nope, just me,” Erin smiles, her grin widening when Parvati’s jaw ticks in annoyment. “I’ll see you guys later. Have fun with… whatever it is you’re doing.”
She gestures at Lavender’s bed dismissively before skipping out of the room, smirking when she hears Parvati grumbling about her behind her back. She doesn’t even have anything against her; it’s Lavender who gets on her nerves more than anyone else. Unfortunately, Lavender doesn’t seem to care much about Erin’s presence – or she does a good job at hiding her frustration.
Parvati is a good distraction when Erin needs someone to argue with.
She knocks on the bathroom door lightly before walking in. Unlike what Parvati might believe, Erin does understand basic manners. For example, she knows that the girls sometimes get undressed in the bathroom, so she tried to give them a head’s up before walking in. She also knows Harini hates being seen with her hair down, and while she doesn’t get the fuss, she isn’t going to be the one to mess with her only solid connection in her dormitory.
“It’s Erin,” she called out before walking into the room.
Harini’s hair is already up when she enters, her usual french braids having been turned into a single fishtail braid trailing down her back. She’s changed into her prefect robes as well, and Erin takes a moment to admire them before shaking herself out of her daze.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says honestly, bowing her head slightly when she realizes Harini doesn’t believe her. “I know I don’t have the best record when it comes to punctuality, but I really did mean to make it back on time. I lost time helping Sally with homework.”
Harini softens a little at that, checking herself in the mirror one last time before striding towards her, picking her satchel up on the way.
“It’s fine,” Harini finally sighs. “Let’s go. If we hurry, we can still make it to Professor Sikander’s room on time. Do you have everything you need?”
“It’s all in here,” Erin answers, patting her own bag. She hesitates before speaking again, the words coming out foreign and stilted. “And… thank you. For agreeing to accompany me. And for advocating for me with Professor Prewett.”
Her streak of lateness had finally come to an end. Professor McGonagall had talked to Professor Babbling, and Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick, and– Well, needless to say there wasn’t a single professor who hadn’t spoken out about her tendency to arrive late, to hand her homework in late, and to do it all with a blasé attitude.
She doesn’t mind their dislike, and she doesn’t mind being known as a badly-behaved student. In fact, she prefers it that way. However, she isn’t ready for her parents to be called into the school. When Professor Prewett called her into his office last weekend, he started his speech by bringing up her mom and dad, wondering if it would be good for them to be made aware of what was going on in class.
Erin asked for Harini to be brought into the room with her, and her roommate had – surprisingly – stood up for her. With the condition that Erin be held accountable for her actions in the past month, but still, it was more than Erin had hoped for.
Now, Harini simply shrugs, leading them out of the common room while expertly dodging the younger students trying to catch her attention.
“No need to involve your guardians until something actually happens,” she explains as they finally leave Gryffindor Tower and start heading towards the first floor, where most professor offices can be found. “You clearly didn’t want your mum and dad there, and this way you’ll be facing consequences at school rather than at home.”
Erin has no idea if she’s implying consequences at school are better than the ones at home or vice-versa, but she doesn’t push. From what she’s learned about Harini’s homelife, it’s always better not to push.
“You could have let me face them with Professor McGonagall,” Erin points out.
Harini, as the one who had to spend the most time ‘dealing with Erin’s misbehavior’ – Prewett’s words, not hers – had been asked which professor Erin should complete her punishment with.
Professor McGonagall would have been the cruelest choice. Professor Slughorn wouldn’t have been much better. But Professor Sikander…
“Emily told me you know the professor,” Harini answers before Erin can even ask. “A family friend, right? She says he’s the one who told your parents about the improvements made to the school. As far as she’s concerned, he’s the reason you guys are here.”
“I didn’t know that was common knowledge,” Erin frowns. She’s been trying hard not to associate with her Muggle Studies professor, determined not to talk to the man who convinced her parents it would be a good idea for them to attend Hogwarts. She also doesn’t want to be accused of favoritism, though she knows she’s earned all of her grades fair and square.
“Like I said, Emily told me,” Harini repeats, her eyebrows raised. “I promise she doesn’t share information with everyone at school. She only brought it up because she wanted to visit him, and I acted as her chaperone the same way I’m doing for you right now.”
“Oh,” Erin breathes out. “I didn’t know she’d–”
“I have a feeling Emily picks up on a lot more than you give her credit for,” Harini chuckles lightly. It doesn’t come out meanly, but Erin still bristles a little, unable to help her hackles from rising. “I didn’t say that to insult you, Erin. I only mean that your sister knows how to handle herself, and she knows not to spread secrets to the rest of the school.”
“I know that,” Erin snaps, refusing to feel bad when Harini draws away from her, her face shuttering slightly. “I– Sorry. I’m stressed about this meeting.”
“Surely, you knew your antics wouldn’t go unpunished forever,” Harini drawls.
Erin deserved that one.
“Professor Sikander’s going to ask questions,” she grimaces instead. “I know he’s already corresponding with my parents regularly, and I’m going to have to beg him to keep more of my misdeeds out of his letters to them.”
“But eventually–”
“Look, obviously something’s going to happen eventually,” Erin interrupts her. “But not yet. I’m not stupid, I know they’re going to find out one day or the other, but I have things I want to do before that happens. I’m trying to–”
Something in Harini’s eyes lights up at that, and Erin knows she understands.
“Ah,” Harini smirks. “You’re trying to prove a point. Is the point that you’re a bit of a bitch?”
“Wha–”
“You’ve called us worse behind our backs, haven’t you?” Harini counters before Erin can call her out on her language. She has a point. “But seriously, what do you have against us? Did your parents want you to be friends with us, and you’re trying to show them you can choose your own group?”
“No,” Erin rolls her eyes, as though it isn’t exactly the type of thing she would have done if that were the case. “And I don’t have anything against you. Parvati and Sophie, maybe. Lavender, definitely. But you’re fine.”
“What a ringing endorsement,” Harini snorts. “Besides, if you have a problem with Parvati and Lav, you have a problem with me.”
Erin considers Harini as they walk quietly for a few feet. She has a point, in a way. Erin knows there’s no way she’ll ever be friends with Harini if she keeps on arguing with Lavender and Parvati, but she also isn’t willing to be friendly with girls she doesn’t like for the sake of a friendship that would probably collapse within days.
“You don’t like me either,” she says ruefully instead. Harini doesn’t deny it.
They stop in front of a door with Professor Sikander’s name on it, Harini turning to look Erin in the eye.
“You make being a Prefect impossible,” she says plainly. “And you treat the young students so poorly, I sometimes wonder if you even realize what you’re doing. Also, you act as though you’re entitled to more than the rest of us because you’re new. I’ll always be civil, because it’s my job as a Prefect to be as respectful to you as I am to everyone else, but no, I don’t like you.”
“Thanks for the announcement,” Erin huffs dryly. “Believe me, I’ve noticed.”
“I–” Harini pressed a hand to her eyes. “Just… Please don’t cause any more problems with the professors. They’ve been kind enough to give you a chance to reform yourself, so take it. I won’t stand up for you next time.”
“Noted,” Erin salutes her sarcastically, then knocks on Professor Sikander’s door and pushes it open when he calls for her to enter.
When she turns to close it, Harini is gone, and she shakes the thought of her roommate’s disappointed look out of her head. Their mutual dislike is far from a secret, even though Erin’s problem is with her friends rather than Harini herself.
As Harini so wisely put it: it’s the same thing.
“Miss Hargreaves! Thank you for joining me so promptly.”
She gives her professor a tight smile and settles down on the chair opposite his, taking in the relatively plain office. She expected him to have pictures of his nieces and nephews up, perhaps with the many postcards he likes to collect, but the only decorations are a few abstract paintings that have Erin furrowing her brows in confusion.
The entire space feels very unlike the Arif Sikander she knows.
Then again, the man she thought she knew would have never urged her parents to come back to a country facing a potential war, no matter how good of a school Hogwarts may or may not be.
“I haven’t seen you much this year,” he continues when Erin doesn’t return his greeting. “Your sisters have both stopped by, but I’ve been hard pressed to find you outside of class. Have you been avoiding me?”
“Not anymore, clearly,” Erin mutters, ignoring her professor’s pointed look. “I’ve been busy… adjusting.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard about your difficulties adapting to the new school setting. Professor Prewett was happy to let me take the lead on your situation once he heard of our connection,” Professor Sikander continues. He places an empty cup of tea in front of Erin, who eyes it warily.
“I don’t drink tea,” she says dryly. The professor only smiles and pours a dark liquid from the pot in his hand.
Coffee, Erin notes with a reluctant twitch of her lips.
“I do remember your dislike for the British drink,” he chuckles when he notices her half-smile. “Perhaps your dislike for British things in general? Is that why you’ve struggled to fit into your classes? I’m sure we can arrange for things to feel a little less culturally different, at least for the time being.”
“I don’t mind Britain,” Erin huffs.
She isn’t even lying. Scotland may be dreary, but it’s also green and beautiful and far more peaceful than their apartment in New York. She wasn’t sure about the country when she first arrived; she didn’t like their mansion, didn’t like the change, didn’t like much of anything, but now…
“It’s a nice place,” she adds when she realizes Arif doesn’t believe her. “My parents could have chosen worse.”
“If not the country, then what?” The professor asks her, sounding more tired than frustrated. She almost wants to let him stew in that annoyance, but she knows she’s on thin ice with the rest of the staff.
Still, she doesn’t know what to say. She can’t quite explain the restlessness brewing within her, at least not without bringing up things that would make Arif frown even more. She also can’t risk saying anything that would get back to her parents and risk the loose plans Erin has been trying to come up with in her mind.
“Erin.”
She looks back up from her cup of coffee and catches the worry in Arif’s gaze. She remembers the first time he looked at her that way, when she was six years old and broke her arm before her dance competition.
He’s one of the few constants the Hargreaves sisters have had in their lives. No matter how angry Erin is at him for potentially being the reason her parents finally moved them back to Europe, she can’t imagine being mad at him forever.
“Uncle Arif,” she says in the same tone, if only to let him know she isn’t completely heartless.
“You’re unhappy here, and you’re taking it out on the people around you,” he tells her softly. “Professor Prewett is most worried about your attitude in class and your lack of desire to get involved in your academics, but it isn’t the only thing he brought up to me. He tells me you haven’t integrated with the girls in your dormitory, and that the friends you have made are the ones that staff have flagged as troublemakers.”
“I wouldn’t call them troublemakers,” Erin says with a short laugh. “They’re fine students, and they don’t cause issues during lessons.”
“Perhaps not,” Arif shrugs. “But they’ve been known for bullying younger students and making disparaging comments to other students, both in your year and out of it. Are those truly the friendships you want to cultivate?”
She stares him down as he continues looking at her, his good intentions obvious in the way he holds himself.
“Alice and Mandy have been great to me,” she answers. “But I’ll play nice with my housemates if it gets you off my back. Harini is… alright. And I can spend time with Fay if it makes you happy.”
“Erin, that’s not–” he cuts himself off when he notices the stubborn look on her face. She gets it from her mom, and Arif has faced it often enough to know what it means. She won’t be backing down on this topic. “I see. You understand that, if something is to happen and your group of friends is involved, you will not be treated any differently than the rest of them? You will all be punished, all your parents asked to come in, no exceptions.”
“We’re not going to do anything,” Erin scoffs. “But yes, I know I’m not going to be treated any differently than everyone else from now on. Professor Prewett made that very clear when he called me into his office the other day.”
“As he should have,” Arif tells her sternly. The concern has faded, replaced by something so close to disappointment, Erin feels an apology forming on her lips before she can think about it. Thankfully, her pseudo-uncle speaks before she can let it out. “Erin, your behavior at school so far has been abysmal. If you weren’t new, you would have spent all of your evenings and weekends in detention. Your parents would have already been called. In fact, I’m still of the opinion that we should ask them to come here so we can discuss what’s really going on with–”
“Please don’t,” Erin bursts out, eyes wide. Her heart speeds up as she thinks about her parents’ reaction. About the consequences she will have to face. “I was just testing the limits, having a bit of fun. It’s been so long since–”
She stops herself and watches as Arif’s face crumples.
She knows that he, more than anyone else, has always been on her side.
“Hogwarts isn’t Ilvermorny, Erin, but it’s as close as you’re going to get,” he says softly. “And you remember the rules, don’t you? You remember what was asked of you. It’s the same thing here. If you were able to do it once, you can do it again. Besides, you went to all those no-maj schools, didn’t you? You’re not a stranger to structure, Erin.”
“We also left all those no-maj schools within the first month, so I don’t think that example applies,” she pouts. She doesn’t refute his first point. “I know what you’re saying, Uncle Arif. I’ve pushed a little too far, and now I need to behave. Your concern is noted, as is the concern of everyone else in this school. I’ll be good.”
“And if you aren’t, I’ll have to–”
“Call my parents,” Erin completes for him. “And if Erica and Emily step a toe out of line? Will they get the same treatment, or will I be the one getting called into your office to discuss what they’ve done wrong and the consequences I’ll face in their stead?”
It’s a low blow, but Arif isn’t the one she’s aiming for. He stares at her steadily. She looks away when his lips tug into a sad smile.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Erin,” Arif says quietly. Then, his demeanor shifts, and Erin knows Professor Sikander is back. “Of course, we still have the matter of your current punishment to discuss.”
“What?” Erin balks. “I thought this was my current punishment!”
“Miss Hargreaves, you’ve broken quite a few rules in the past month, some of which were kindly ignored, but others which have since come to light and cannot be dismissed so easily,” he says calmly. He doesn’t flinch when she glares at him venomously; not even when she harshly pushes the cup of coffee back in his direction, some of it spilling onto his desk.
“So what? I have to write lines? Do chores around the castle?”
“Detention, Miss Hargreaves,” he says seriously, and Erin knows she deserves it but she hates it. She wishes it were Professor McGonagall instead. She’d rather face her ire than Arif’s sympathetic disapproval.
“Whe–”
“Every evening this week and the next,” he continues, as though she hasn’t said anything. “You’ll be with Professor Sprout for the first half, and with Professor Flitwick for the second. You’ll also have a personal detention with Professor McGonagall and Miss Bones this Sunday.”
He stops, and Erin glares at him for a while longer.
“Is that all?” She finally snaps. When he nods, she stands abruptly and grabs her satchel off the floor with more force than necessary, only just remembering to take out the papers she’d brought for the purpose of this meeting. She tosses them onto his desk. “My late assignments, the letter Professor Prewett asked me to write, and the check-in document.”
He opens his mouth to thank her, but she storms out of the room before any sound can escape.
That night, she breaks curfew for the first time. When Harini and Nott find her in a corridor near the library, her housemate takes one look at her and drags her patrol partner away before he can even take a single point from her.
She hates the pity, but she knows she can’t afford another strike on her record right now.
She walks back to Gryffindor Tower with tears of frustration in her eyes and a reminder not to let Harini Potter catch her in one of her lowest moments ever again.
Erin’s Temptation
28th of October 1995
Erin doesn’t purposefully seek Blaise out when they aren’t in class. It’s not like she follows him around the castle, waiting to pounce on him whenever he’s alone. She doesn’t even pay attention to him during meals; she has better things to do with her time and better people to spend it with.
However, there are times when the two of them naturally end up in similar places. Like when they leave the Great Hall late, having to hurry towards their next class, and naturally end up matching each other’s pace. Or when they find themselves in the main common room at the same time with no one else to keep them company. Or when they get to the library late enough that Sally and Alice have already disappeared somewhere, tired of waiting for them to make an appearance.
She likes Blaise’s company. Beyond his good looks and his family’s good status, there’s a spark to him that Erin loves. He’s carefree and funny and doesn’t seem to mind that she’s American and a little too outspoken for her own good. He laughs at her jokes and treats her kindly and doesn’t hold things against her for an unreasonable amount of time.
She knows, however, that she took things a bit too far when she blatantly flirted with him during one of their study sessions.
Alice had looked at her sideways, and it only then occurred to Erin that she wasn’t supposed to banter and tease and fawn over someone who was very publicly taken. She’d apologized instantly, but Blaise had shifted away uncomfortably and left the room in a hurry, citing an excuse that Erin is almost certain he’d made up on the spot.
Three days later, things between them are strained. Their shared classes have settled into an awkward silence, and nothing Erin says seems to break through Blaise’s newfound hesitation around her. It doesn’t help that Parvati glares at her every time she sees them together; Erin doesn’t blame Blaise for being careful when they’re together in public.
She just wishes he would still give her some amount of attention when they’re in private.
Instead, he’s been avoiding her like the plague, just when Erin finally decided to leave her roommates alone and give them some space to be themselves without her bothering them. She was counting on Alice, Mandy, Sally and Blaise to keep her busy, but she apparently misread their friendships.
Alice and Sally still refuse to let her into the Hufflepuff common room and, since neither of them are fond of the main common room, spending time with them is only possible in their classes, the Great Hall, and the library. They could go outside, but Alice is sensitive to all sorts of plants and refuses to leave the castle if they aren’t going to Hogsmeade.
Mandy hasn’t quite rescinded her offer for Erin to come to Ravenclaw Tower, but she’s also made it clear she won’t serve as her cover anymore. It seems Erin has finally used up whatever patience the Ravenclaw prefects and teachers had been saving for her.
And now, Blaise dodges her attempts at conversation and slips away to see Parvati or his Slytherin friends whenever she tries to approach him. She’s trying not to feel offended by his obvious slights, but she’s only human; she knows Parvati influenced him to minimize their interactions, and it makes her want to triple her efforts. She wants to stop feeling like she’s a second choice for everyone except Mandy, who tries her best to keep Erin entertained even while trying to juggle a complicated situation with Anthony.
So, Erin doesn’t usually seek Blaise out when they aren’t in class, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
She knows he likes to go outside early in the morning, specifically during the weekend. She’s never been out there herself – early mornings are something only Harini seems to enjoy amongst the girls in their dorm – but Parvati mentioned it once in passing when Erin was in the room. The concept of waking up early only to spend time outside feels a little pointless to her, since she’d much rather head down to breakfast early or cozy up by the fireplace, but she can’t keep going as they have been for much longer.
She wakes up before 7 for the first time that year. It’s a cold Saturday morning; the weather is typical for October, and Erin finds herself grimacing at it. If there’s one thing she hates about Scotland, it’s the weather. New York wasn’t much better during the winter, but at least it had the advantage of being a big city with things to do no matter the temperature.
Hogwarts is dreadful once the cold starts seeping in.
It’s even worse outside. She shivers as she steps out, wishing she’d thought to bring the jumper she still hasn’t returned to Harini. It’s warmer than anything she owns and, although it isn’t quite as fashionable as what she usually goes for, she doesn’t think Blaise will care what she’s wearing.
As far as she can tell, he’s yet to notice her as anything more than a friend. She isn’t quite sure what she’s doing wrong, other than the fact that she isn’t Parvati.
It’s only once she’s stepped out of the front doors that she realises she has no idea where, exactly, Blaise spends his mornings. He could be by the lake, or near the forest, or even on the Quidditch pitch. Maybe he likes flying – he’s never mentioned it, but Erin knows she isn’t privy to all his thoughts.
She curses her lack of forethought as she trudges towards the Lake.
There’s a surprising number of students out already. Most of them are running in small groups but a few linger in different spots, completing homework or reading or enjoying hobbies that Erin can’t identify from a distance. A group of younger Ravenclaws are playing a game under a tree near the Lake. She waves at them, recognising their faces, and they shrink away from her once they notice her walking in their general direction.
She rolls her eyes but makes a point to avoid them. She needs to maintain some semblance of social standing if she still wants to have their support the next time she manages to visit Mandy in the tower. The firsties are always so useful, bringing them drinks and books and whatever else they may need.
She’ll have to talk to Mandy and ask her what they can do to make sure the first-years don’t start growing resentful or tell an adult that they’re being ‘exploited’ – which is the ugly word Erica likes to use whenever she sees Erin pull one of her stunts off.
When she finally reaches the edge of the Lake, she lets out a groan. Blaise is nowhere in sight. There are a few older students lying about, but she doesn’t know any of them enough to ask for his whereabouts. They’re so busy in their separate dorms, Erin doesn’t think she’s actually spent more than five minutes with any of them.
She closes her eyes for a second and relishes the way the sun warms her face for a brief moment before disappearing once more. She glares up at the clouds and wishes she’d thought to pry a little more into Blaise’s morning activities.
She’s about to turn around and head back to the castle when she notices a flash of green, silver, and hair so blond it’s almost white.
Draco Malfoy is a bit of a mystery to Erin. He doesn’t spend time with Gryffindors, or Hufflepuffs, or even Ravenclaws. He barely spends time with Slytherins who aren’t in his immediate sphere of acquaintances. His chin and head are always held up high, but he pouts as soon as he faces any sort of adversity. He’s a good student, polite when he wants to be, but seems to be even more disliked than Erin is.
He’s also the son of a Death Eater; one of the few her parents knew to warn her about before she started her first term here.
Maybe that’s why she’s been avoiding him. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t bothered approaching her even when Blaise is around – even when it’s clear the boy has something to say to his housemate, who he clearly dislikes. And maybe it’s just that he’s as awful as everyone tells her he is, but she needs answers more than she wants to follow their advice.
“Malfoy!” She calls out before she can talk herself out of it.
He’s alone, for once, his two lackeys nowhere in sight. There are a handful of other Slytherins lounging on the grass near the lake, but he hasn’t approached any of them in the past five minutes. Erin doesn’t think he’s ever approached any of them, if his upturned nose is anything to go by.
She’s five paces away from him when he finally acknowledges her presence.
He frowns for a moment, as though he can’t quite place her, but quickly spots her fading red and gold hair. She’s decided to grow it out for now, not sure what color she wants to go for next. Her natural hair color hasn’t made a reappearance yet, so she’s happy to go around with her blond and reddish-orange streaks.
Malfoy wrinkles his nose as though the color of her hair is personally offensive.
“Hargreaves,” he mutters when she stops in front of him. “Can I help you?”
His left eyebrow is perfectly sculpted when he raises it at her. It’s a condescending gesture – at least Erin thinks it’s supposed to be – but she’s faced a lot more in the past. Business partners, ambassadors, lawyers with strong opinions on what a little girl should or shouldn’t be doing… It takes a lot to make Erin feel out of her depth when it comes to casual negotiations.
“I need information,” she answers nonchalantly. She doesn’t meet Malfoy’s gaze yet, choosing to look at the lake instead. She tries to act as though it’s the most fascinating thing she’s seen all day, letting out a small hum before finally turning to Malfoy and letting her eyes settle on him. “I thought you might have exactly what I need.”
“And what do I get in return?” He sneers at her, but she prepared for this as soon as she started walking towards him.
“Anthony’s standing in Ravenclaw is shaky at the moment. There are whispers about him and his family, and they’re nothing good,” Erin shrugs. She watches Malfoy tense up and knows she has his attention. He’s such an easy target, in the grand scheme of things. “Mandy is doing whatever she can to help him conspicuously, but he’s not helping his case. If he doesn’t get reined in soon, the prefects are thinking of bringing your Head of House in.”
“There can’t be any proof that Anthony is–” He stops himself, and Erin laughs lightly when his skin darkens. Splotches of red adorn his cheeks for a moment before he manages to compose his features. “I appreciate the information, Hargreaves. What do you need to know?”
“Where does Blaise spend his mornings?” She asks casually.
Draco scoffs. “Of course this is about a boy. Blaise prefers spots near the forest. Less people there, I guess. He’ll be busy, though.”
“Busy doing what?”
“I gave you your info, Hargreaves,” Draco drawls. “You’ll find Blaise soon enough, since he only retreats to his special spot when Daphne is around. You’re lucky she’s out of the country; I don’t think your stunts would go over nearly as well if she was still here.”
“Why do you think I waited until she was gone, Draco?” She says sweetly, lingering on his first name for a second before waving at him and turning away.
He doesn’t come after her, and she doesn’t look back. She got what she was looking for, and he obtained information he didn’t even know he needed. It may not be a social success her housemates would appreciate, but Erin knows the power of an alliance like the one she just extended.
She also understands the power that comes with being seen as knowledgeable. She doesn’t know anything about Daphne or Blaise or why her presence would have made things harder for her, but Draco doesn’t need to know that.
There’s a small smile on her face and a pep in her step as she heads closer to the forest, leaving the beauty of the lake behind. She really wishes Blaise had been there; it’s much nicer than the damp trees and the eerie sounds that seem to constantly flow from the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
She skirts the forest boundary for a few minutes before she finally finds the object of her morning search.
She hears him before she sees him. More accurately, she hears the clear sound of a saxophone before she turns the corner and spots Blaise, whose eyes are closed as he taps his foot and holds the instrument reverently between his hands. His fingers are dancing fluidly up and down the brass body, and for a moment, Erin has no idea what to do.
There are other students lingering nearby, close enough to hear Blaise but not near enough that they would disturb him with their quiet conversations. They’re almost exclusively Slytherins, most of whom Erin doesn’t know. She only recognises Emma Vane and the other girl who’s almost always by her side. They’re closer to Blaise than the rest of his admirers, which she supposes is explained by their friendship with him – he seems to like Emma more than most of his housemates, much to Erin’s consternation.
She doesn’t recognise the tune he’s playing, but the students mad enough to wake up so early in the morning to watch him play are all swaying slightly, smiling at him as he does a little twirl and stops his tapping to focus on a quicker part of the song.
She stands, frozen, until the piece is over and a smattering of applause breaks the audience’s silence. They send out small cheers before turning back to their conversations, and Blaise bends down to shift through the sheet music at his feet. His saxophone is placed into its case, though he doesn’t close it yet.
It’s as good of a chance as she’s going to get.
“Blaise!” She calls out cheerily as she sidles up to him wearing her brightest smile. She smooths down her clothes when she stops next to him, which he notes with one of his wry looks. She resists the urge to blush. “I didn’t know you played music!”
“Erin,” he says with his usual drawl. “You never asked.”
“Oh, but surely you would have shared something like this with me!” She continues with a laugh. It fizzles out when he only stares at her. “You sounded really good! And you have a whole audience. Do you advertise to the rest of your house? Keeping your talent away from the Gryffindors?”
“Hardly,” Blaise huffs, gesturing towards Emma and her friend, whose eyes are narrowed in their direction. “Emma found out about my hobby when we were second-years, and she’s slowly passed the word to a… specific audience. I don’t much care about their house affiliation, really. It’s just that communication between houses can be a little tricky at times.”
“And I wouldn’t fit your specific audience?” She giggles, hating herself for it when Blaise’s brows furrow. Behind him, Emma and her friend are whispering amongst themselves. Their dislike of Erin is clear as day.
“Emma only invites halfbloods and muggleborns,” Blaise clarifies apologetically. Erin feels herself blush. “I was under the impression that you were a pureblood.”
“I– Yes, I guess I am,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t really matter as much in the States. The whole blood status thing is a bit outdated.”
“It is,” Blaise shrugs. “But it’s nice for people like Emma and Lily and all the younger Slytherins to have a space where they don’t have to worry about purebloods, especially the ones with unfriendly families. Even Parvati doesn’t come here until I’m done with my sessions. I’d love to have her here, but we’ve kind of cultivated a different atmosphere.”
“You know, I’m barely a pureblood,” she says quickly. “My parents are both halfbloods, and it’s not like we have a huge family fortune. At least not the way some of the people here do. I get what it’s like to be more… ordinary.”
“Erin,” Blaise sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about how magical or ordinary or rich you are. I’m just here to play the saxophone, and it so happens that I enjoy Muggle music that makes people feel a bit more at home. I can’t exactly kick anyone off the lawn, but I promise Emma does a better job of it than anyone else.”
“She doesn’t get to police who watches you play,” Erin scoffs. “You really need to be better about standing up for yourself, Blaise.”
“She’s my friend,” he snaps. “And she’s the one I care most about here, at least when it comes to my music. It might be better if you left, Erin. We’ll see each other in class during the week, I’m sure.”
“But, I was here– I wanted to fix things between us,” she tries to sweeten her tone. She widens her eyes a little and doesn’t fight the blush that heats her face. “I feel like something went wrong recently, and I wanted you to know that–”
“I have a girlfriend,” Blaise cuts her off. “One that I really fucking like. If she doesn’t want me to hang out with someone who is very clearly flirting with me half the time we’re together, then I’m going to back off. You should too. You’re not a terrible person, Erin, but I can’t be your friend if you keep doing… this.”
He bends down to pick his saxophone up again, but Erin stops him with a hand on his arm. He shrugs it off instantly, and she forces herself not to take it personally.
“You and Parvati… You have to know it’s not going to work out, right?” She says soothingly. He stares at her, stricken, and she almost regrets bringing it up. Still, she knows he needs to hear the truth. “The two of you aren’t well-matched. I mean, she’s a Gryffindor and you’re a Slytherin! You like early mornings while she’s probably still in bed. You don’t hang out in groups, which is… Well, it’s a bit weird. Aren’t you supposed to want to share everything with your partner?”
He laughs then, and Erin hesitates before chuckling along too. When he shakes his head at her, she feels her confidence waver.
“Even if everything you said were true – which it isn’t – I haven’t actually heard one good point. Parvati and I are well-matched despite all our differences. More importantly, she makes me happy,” Blaise explains. Emma and her friend are still watching them and, from the smiles on their faces, Erin knows they can hear exactly what Blaise is saying. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Erin.”
The truth hits harder than any of his sweet words about Parvati.
This time, when her cheeks redden, she slaps her hands to her face and clenches her jaw, urging herself to fight back the shame.
“There’s no need to be mean, Blaise,” she hisses.
“Look in the mirror, Erin,” he says, pity dripping from his voice. “You’re so focused on yourself, you don’t even realise how you come off to everyone else. How would you feel if one of your friends or housemates decided to openly flirt with the person you were dating?”
“It obviously depends on the situation,” Erin argues, though she has a feeling she’s lost this debate already. Blaise’s fingers are back on his saxophone and his eyes have already slid away from her.
“Like I said earlier, I’ll see you in class,” he says.
And what can she say to that?
She huffs as she walks away, glaring at Emma and her friend when they titter at her misfortune.
She won’t give them anything else to talk about.
The next time she talks to Blaise, she’ll have to make sure they’re alone.
Erin’s Dilemma
11th of November 1995
“Erica likes it here.”
Erin bites back her immediate reply to Emily’s soft-spoken statement.
Her hands are in her sister’s hair, the urge to style it having overcome her earlier that week when she’d carefully braided Harini’s curls. After a lot of back and forth with Erica, Erin had agreed not to dye Emily’s hair – at least until they got permission from their parents. It means she’s stuck with simple hairstyles, but Emily appreciates their time together regardless, which is what matters most.
“She does,” Erin finally grits out. There’s no question there; Erica loves Hogwarts as much as she likes Quidditch and the books she carries everywhere with her. “Do you?”
Emily nods, her face bright.
“Everyone here is amazing,” she breathes out. Erin’s heart clenches, the joy in her sister’s voice almost too much for her to handle. “My friends tell me I’m even starting to catch their accent, but I think they’re being silly.”
“They’re not wrong,” Erin teases her sister. She’s caught the way Emily’s rs have softened, her vowels more rounded now than they were before. “You’ll sound like a proper Englishgirl by the time you’re done with school. You’ll fit right in.”
“I already fit in,” Emily huffs, but Erin knows she’s pleased at the compliment – though Erin didn’t intend it as one, she can tell it means a lot to her sister. “Do you like it here? I never see you hanging out in the common room with other people...”
It’s a complicated question, though she understands that Emily doesn’t quite grasp how tricky it is for Erin to be here. To mill around a school, seeing Erica flitter by with her friends, a wide smile on her face.
The truth is ugly: the more Erica likes the school, the more determined Erin is to leave it. It’s not something Emily would comprehend, and Erin doesn’t want to shatter her little sister’s heart when she’s finally found a place where she belongs.
“That’s because most of my friends aren’t in Gryffindor,” she says instead. “Besides, you and your gaggle of first-years tend to take over the space. You can’t blame my yearmates for staying clear of you guys, Em. And why would I need their company, when I have you and the other younger students?”
Emily frowns a little at that, and Erin feels something close to guilt sour her mood. She knows Emily isn’t dimwitted; she’s probably noticed how easy it is for Erin to manipulate the first and second-years into doing her bidding when she needs something done quickly. She also knows her sister doesn’t approve, and yet she’s never explicitly done anything to stop Erin from ordering her classmates around.
If Emily raised even a single complaint about it, Erin would put a stop to it instantly. No questions asked. Until then…
Well, it’s not as though she’s torturing the kids.
“But are you happy here?” Emily insists. She wishes her little sister would drop the subject, but knows Emily gets her stubbornness partly from Erin. It would be hypocritical to ask her to stop pushing.
“Hogwarts is a good school.”
Emily’s features lighten a little at that, and Erin holds back a sigh of relief.
She isn’t even lying; Hogwarts is a good school, and she’s glad her sister enjoys being here. Emily deserves to thrive in a stable environment, far away from the chaos that was their years of homeschooling.
Not that Erin doesn’t deserve it too. It niggles at her brain sometimes, pointing out all the things she loves about Hogwarts: the meals with a group of kids her age, classes with a multitude of teachers, freedom to roam the grounds whenever she wishes… The certainty that no matter what happens, she has a place in Gryffindor Tower, her uniform waiting to be worn every morning.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Emily grins, turning around now that Erin is done arranging her hair into two twisted buns. “Finally getting to attend a dream school like this.”
And that.
That is why she can never let herself enjoy Hogwarts as much as she wishes she could.
“I remember when I was really little, the three of us would wave sticks around and pretend they were wands,” Emily giggles. “Do you remember that too? We had uniforms on too! It was just like Hogwarts, and now we’re here!”
“We’ve been here for two months, Em,” Erin laughs, glad that her sister is too young to realise how hollow it sounds. “Surely you’re used to the uniforms by now.”
“It’s still cool,” Emily rolls her eyes. She’s looking more like Erin every day, and Erin doesn’t know if it’s healing or hurting her. Maybe both. “Thanks for doing my hair, Eri. You should go hang out with your roommates!”
She’s an astute little girl.
She rushes off towards her friends, who have been watching the two of them attentively ever since Erin dragged her away from her usual group of girls. As soon as she sits down, her friends ooh and aah over her hair, whispering excitedly to her. If Erin wanted to, she could probably eavesdrop on their conversation without having to cast a spell.
Instead, she leaves the room, taking the steps slowly as she climbs the stairs to the tower’s seventh floor.
Two months. It’s been two months at Hogwarts, and Erin still stands by her initial assessment of the school: it’s much more tolerable than homeschooling. She’s made friends, for one. And she actually feels like learning, at least sometimes. And despite her first impression of Harini and her friends, she doesn’t hate the redheaded girl. She’s kind, even if Erin still thinks she’s a tad irritating, and there’s clearly more to her than the infallible exterior she broadcasts.
A dream school.
The words grate at her very soul.
They hurt even more coming from Emily, who’s too young to remember what robes they were wearing when they spun around in circles. Who doesn’t remember the Sorting ceremonies they would fake with each other. Who has no idea how far from a dream Hogwarts is to Erin.
She pauses on the sixth floor landing. The fourth-year girls rarely spend time in their dorm during the day, and she needs a second to compose herself. She knocks on the door before she enters, almost laughing at the politeness that this damned school has somehow managed to instill into her despite her best efforts.
The room is as empty as she’d predicted, and Erin wastes no time stretching her legs out on the floor, her back resting against one of the girls’ school trunks.
Erica is friends with some of the girls who sleep in this room. She’s seen her laughing with them during meals and after classes. She’s heard the things that are said about her when the fourth-years are around, Weasley always looking at her with an unpleasant frown. It’s the kind of loyalty earned only by sharing pieces of yourself with other people.
She wonders what parts Erica has shared with them, and which ones she’s kept to herself.
It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Erica has shared things with them. She’s close to them now, Erin knows. She’s inseparable from her Ravenclaw housemates, and she’s friendly with almost everyone else in her year group.
It’s everything Erin wanted to happen, but now she finds herself wishing Erica hated Hogwarts instead. At least then, there was a chance–
At least then, Erin wouldn’t have to do anything. If Erica was miserable, that would be it. Erin could be happy, could enjoy Hogwarts and her classes and make friends with all the girls in her year without having to worry about what might happen in the future. It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but it would yield the results she was looking for without her involvement.
The door creaks open, and Erin finds herself staring into the confused eyes of a fourth-year girl. She’s got light brown skin and coiled hair, and Erin suddenly realises she has no idea what half of her housemates look like.
She also realises this can’t be one of Weasley’s friends – she would have recognised her instantly – and relaxes a little as she stands.
“Sorry,” she says nonchalantly. “Needed a bit of space to breathe, and I’m pretty sure my roommates are hogging the dorm again.”
She punctuates her sentence with a small chuckle, and she smiles when the girl takes it at face value. It probably helps that Erin didn’t technically tell a lie.
“I’ll be out of your way now,” she adds, standing to the side so the younger girl can step into her dorm without having to walk around Erin.
“You’re the older Hargreaves, right?” The girl surprises her when she talks, and Erin nods slowly. She’s certain the question is more of a formality than anything; she knows she left an impression at the beginning of the year. Hell, she leaves an impression every day, losing more points and earning more detentions than any other lower-year Gryffindor.
“That’s me,” Erin grins. “The one and only.”
“Right,” the girl furrows her brows. “You’re a lot… chiller than I expected.”
Erin almost bristles at that. She’s curated a careful reputation at Hogwarts, and it does not involve being ‘chill’ in any way, shape or form. Not that she’s a chill person even under normal circumstances, but the person she’s showcased to her housemates isn’t supposed to be the cool and collected sort.
“We all have our off days,” Erin shrugs. “Besides, who’s to say I wasn’t in here stealing something?”
Of course, that’s the precise moment at which Weasley and her little blonde sidekick enter the room behind the other girl. They pause, eyes wide, as they take in the scene in front of them. Erin gleefully notes the doubt that darkens Weasley’s eyes, suspicion coming off her in waves.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Weasley snarls.
“Language, Weasley,” Erin tuts, satisfaction erasing her earlier hesitations about Hogwarts. “Wouldn’t want any of the younger girls to overhear you and realise their Quidditch prodigy has such a foul mouth.”
“Oh yeah?” Weasley crosses her arms over her chest. “Funny how I’m pretty sure they’ll forgive my choice of words when they realise you were invading our privacy without our consent. I hear the second and third-years are particularly fierce when it comes to that topic.”
“I was leaving,” Erin rolls her eyes. “No need to get your panties in a twist. I’ll be on my way, yeah?”
When she goes to move past them, Weasley blocks her exit route. Erin sighs, but her blood is pumping and her mind is running at a hundred miles an hour, retorts ready on the tip of her tongue.
There’s nothing she loves more than getting on Erica’s nerves, and Weasley is the perfect body double for Erin’s sister. If she can’t exchange insults with Erica, she’ll gladly have a verbal spar with her little friends instead.
“What were you doing here?” Weasley narrows her eyes at her.
“Resting,” Erin answers drolly. “Is that a crime?”
“You have a dorm,” the blonde girl next to Weasley points out, utterly unamused. It’s a shame, since Erin finds their entire group quite entertaining. If they weren’t Erica’s friends, she rather thought she could have gotten along with them.
“My dorm is occupied,” Erin says slowly. “Yours was empty. It was a rather easy decision to make. Besides, if I’d gone to rest in my room, I wouldn’t get to engage in such a scintillating conversation with the three of you now. Wouldn’t that have been a shame?”
“When Erica hears about–”
“The world doesn’t revolve around my little sister,” Erin scoffs. It doesn’t matter that in this instance, Erica was exactly what Erin was thinking about. “You know you’re the one stopping me from leaving, right? I’d be long gone if it were up to me.”
“Merlin, I actually think Erica does you favors when she speaks about you,” Weasley laughs humorlessly. “You could have just said sorry for entering our room without our permission.”
“After your gracious introduction?” Erin raises her eyebrows, happily noting the way Weasley’s cheeks flame the same color as her hair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Feel free to tell Erica that I had the absolute gall to take advantage of an empty room for a full ten minutes. It’s got to be the biggest problem we’re all dealing with right now.”
She sweeps past the two girls, forcing them to shift to the side in order to let her through.
She leaves the dorm with a smile on her face.
Hogwarts is a good school. There are good people here. She’s genuinely happy Emily has found her place.
But it’s too late now. The image she’s created for herself is firmly rooted in everyone’s heads, and the pieces are all falling perfectly into place.
Hogwarts is a good school, but not nearly as good as her long-awaited retaliation.
Erin Makes an Impression
24th of November 1995
She’s outside again.
These days, she isn’t sure why she does it anymore. It started off as a way to catch Blaise on his way back to the castle but, truthfully, she’s getting a little bit sick of her back-and-forth with him and Parvati. It was fun at first, watching her roommate lose her cool every time she saw Erin anywhere near Blaise, but the novelty had worn off.
Now, she mostly spends her time outside by the lake, twirling her wand around and practising the spells they learned that week. It’s better than studying in the library and certainly more efficient than her study groups, which were used as gossip sessions even before she stepped foot in Hogwarts.
She likes the way her spells look against the water. For all that she hates this school, it has done wonders for her Magic. She’s noticed how much smoother it is now, the spells coming to her naturally and sparks flying from her wand quicker than ever before. She can’t imagine how much better it would be if she actually paid attention to her professors when they gave her pointers or went over the theory behind this spell or another.
She stills her wand for a moment and pictures her next charm. Wingardium Leviosa was her favorite spell when she was younger – she loved watching Emily’s eyes widen when she saw her teddies floating over to her. She’s been practising it silently for the past week and is determined to master it before the end of the month.
She focuses on the red leaf she’s picked for this particular exercise. She pictures it in her mind, its every nook and cranny and imperfection. She breathes in the air, too, because it will be her friend as she attempts to make the leaf fly. When she breathes out, she imagines she can feel the air responding to her, spurring her on.
She swishes, she flicks and, in complete silence, she watches the leaf rise in the air. She smiles at it but doesn’t let her focus waver. It spins when she asks it to spin and leaps higher when she pulls her wand up sharply.
Satisfied, she splits her concentration. The leaf wavers for a moment but doesn’t fall, and Erin forces herself to continue picturing it in her mind. Red, imperfect, three holes on its left side. Then she reaches out to another leaf, this one small and almost brown, the colour having leeched out of it.
Another swish, another flick, and though the first leaf almost falls, she catches it at the last second with a smooth movement of her wand that sends both leaves twirling in a gust of invisible wind.
Her smile widens.
She doesn’t push her luck any further. She just watches the leaves fly together, enjoying the moment of peace for as long as it lasts. She urges the brown leaf to overtake the red one, makes them touch, splits them apart, keeps one perfectly still while the other waltzes… It is, more than anything, fun.
Fun.
The leaves tumble down, her focus broken. She sighs and instantly wishes they were dancing again.
When they’re dancing, it’s easier to pretend that the landscape ahead of her is as bright and welcoming as autumn in New England. It’s almost possible for her to close her eyes and pretend she’s in Ilvermorny with the pieces of her heart she left behind.
But then she opens her eyes and the sky is still grey, the lake still dark, the landscape still overtaken by mountains instead of sprawling forests. The leaves are duller here, too, the red ones hard to find in a sea of brown and yellow.
She sighs. Behind her, someone clears their throat.
She startles and near screams when she turns around to find Professor Cresswell, of all people, staring at her. She stops herself moments before the sound slips past her lips and instead swallows loudly, feeling the colour drain from her face.
She isn’t sure what rule she’s broken, but she reckons it can’t be anything good if a Slytherin professor is approaching her outside of class hours. Especially a professor whom she’s never spoken to before.
“Miss Hargreaves,” Cresswell says, nodding at her.
“Professor,” Erin greets in return, hurrying to stand up and wiping the leaves away from her robes in order to appear at least somewhat presentable. “I’m sorry.”
“Pardon me?” Cresswell frowns.
“I’m… sorry?” Erin repeats, sounding even more confused than the professor. She mentally slaps herself for making herself look like such an idiot to a professor she actually finds quite impressive. “For whatever I’ve done. Am I late to class?”
“Do relax, Miss Hargreaves,” Cresswell says, raising an eyebrow at her. “You’ve not done anything wrong. Would you happen to have some time to spare?”
Erin has nothing but time. No one is waiting for her back at the castle, she clearly isn’t late for her Potions class, and she’s grown tired of staring at the lake. Still, she hesitates, because Cresswell is intimidating and a Slytherin and a professor whose colleagues have made it clear they don’t particularly care for Erin.
“You don’t have to say yes.”
Which is what convinces her to do exactly that.
“Where are we going?” She asks as they amble towards the castle, cutting through paths that Erin has never even noticed. She knows Cresswell has only been a professor here for two years and wonders how much time she must have spent out on the grounds when she was still a student here.
“The forest,” Cresswell replies, and Erin’s gaze flickers towards the dark trees.
She notices, now, that they’ve been curving away from the school. It’s why she doesn’t recognise the overgrown paths they’re walking on and why her feet stumble every few feet. It’s like they know they’re treading new territory, even though she’s certainly strayed close to the forest before.
“That was quite an impressive feat of magic you performed back there, Miss Hargreaves,” the professor adds a second later.
Erin looks up at her.
“Pardon me?” She asks, the prim words sounding wrong in her American accent. Cresswell’s lips quirk up at the corners. Erin forgets, momentarily, to be annoyed by her amusement.
She’s too busy trying to understand what, exactly, she might have seen Erin do that she classified as an ‘impressive feat of magic’.
“The leaves,” Cresswell elucidates. Erin’s cheeks flush; she didn’t think anyone had been watching her play around with her leaves. “I’m not mocking you, Miss Hargreaves. You performed the spell silently and, once you’d steadied your first object, you managed to add a second one with incredible accuracy. It may seem like a simple thing you did, perhaps even childish, but it tells me more about your Magic than anything my colleagues may have implied.”
Slytherins, Erin has come to realise, often pick up on the quiet truths that Gryffindors prefer to blunder through. Erin herself has never been good at understanding people’s body language, but she supposes Cresswell is the Deputy Head of Slytherin for a reason.
She just wishes she wasn’t so transparent.
And because she wants to surprise Cresswell, she does the only thing she knows how to do in these situations: speak plainly, no matter the rank or authority a person may hold above her.
“The other professors shouldn’t be saying anything negative about my Magic,” she says. Cresswell’s eyebrows rise higher, and Erin straightens as they walk. “I’m a good witch. Terrible in all the other ways, but never bad at Magic.”
Cresswell hums.
She doesn’t correct Erin on her tone or her manner of speaking about her professors.
Erin, disgruntled and a little anxious to find out why the professor is dragging her into the forest with no explanation, falls quiet.
The forest is just like she imagined, really, expect it isn’t at all. It’s as dark as anticipated, even in the middle of the day, and she sees enough shadows skitter by to know that the Headmaster has a valid reason for keeping it closed off to students. But it’s also not quiet, which she’s always thought would be the case in a place as hostile as the Forbidden Forest.
Much to her surprise, there are birds constantly singing carefree songs, leaves rustling in a familiar way, and not a single eerie noise to ruin the picturesque soundscape around her. It’s strange, that the space can be so ominous when she looks at it, and yet feel so normal when she closes her eyes and forgets about the darkness and the shadows and the uneven paths;
They don’t venture too far, and Erin isn’t sure whether she’s grateful for it or sad at the things she won’t get to see and hear while she’s out with Cresswell. She knows better than to think this will become a regular excursion, and she’s too smart to let her Gryffindorish impulsiveness guide her into the woods at night.
So, she’ll have to make do with the small clearing where they’ve stopped, which is really less of a clearing and more a gathering of bushes and stones that have made it impossible for trees to break into the small area.
It’s not quite as mystical or magical as the rest of the forest. In fact, it’s almost unusually ordinary for a forest located next to Britain’s most magically-saturated building.
Maybe that’s why she barely bats an eyelash when Cresswell takes her hand, guides her two steps to the right, and leads them straight into what Erin can only categorise as another world, even though she knows, deep down, that alternate universes are one of the things magic has not been able to make a reality.
Rather, this must be a pocket of space that someone has created and placed in the Forbidden Forest as a haven. Within it, a baby griffon and a unicorn foal frolic through tall, vibrant green grass, unbothered by the darkness beyond the small rift she and Cresswell have just stepped through.
“The limits of space are the same, of course,” Cresswell explains, pointing out the treeline that surrounds them. “Those two can’t enter the trees through there, though they occasionally venture into the actual forest by leaving the rift. It’s a quiet space for them. They quite enjoy the illusion of sunlight.”
“Did you create it for them?” Erin asks, her curiosity about the creatures surpassing her desire to know about Cresswell’s intentions with her. “When they were born?”
“No,” Cresswell answers.
She doesn’t add anything else, and Erin’s too prideful to beg her for more, so she stays quiet and looks at the young animals running around aimlessly.
“Can you feel the rift, Miss Hargreaves?” She finally asks, just when Erin feels like she’ll burst if they don’t break the silence.
She wonders if Cresswell could sense her patience reaching the end of its rope.
“Yeah, it’s right there,” Erin responds, pointing in the direction they came from. There’s something about the Magic there that doesn’t sit the same way the rest of the air does, as though it’s too heavy to truly integrate itself within the illusion. “Whoever created this place chose a spot between two rocks, probably because they were afraid they’d get lost otherwise.”
“Most likely, yes,” Cresswell agrees. Erin doesn’t preen, but it’s a near thing.
It isn’t as though her theory was highly complex, but she likes that she’s not blundering her way through this interaction the same way she blunders her way through everything, these days.
“What else do you notice about the space?”
It occurs to Erin then that Cresswell isn’t just showing her a pretty space; she’s trying to confirm a hypothesis of some sort. And for an absurd reason, the subject of that hypothesis is Erin.
“The trees aren’t actually fake, I don’t think,” she says a moment later, once she’s stared at the pines and birches for long enough that they begin to all blur into one patch of green. “They’re just lighter because of the other illusions.”
“Good,” Cresswell nods. “There’s a fine line between reality and illusion where the trees are concerned. I’m not quite sure how this particular feat was achieved, but the person who created this space was careful to maintain a level of truth. The trees we see here are the exact same trees past the rift, though they’re untouchable from where we stand.”
“Most of it is untouchable, isn’t it?” Erin frowns. “Or at least, touching it would be useless. The griffon and the unicorn don’t just leave because they get bored of this place; they have to leave to find food. But why would the creator make such an elaborate illusion without considering the practical properties of its contents?”
“I’m afraid I cannot answer those questions,” Cresswell shrugs. It’s elegant in a way Erin has never managed, and she suddenly has the urge to ask Cresswell how she does it so effortlessly. “I suppose the space may be so old that certain aspects of Magic had not yet been discovered at the time of its creation.”
“But couldn’t you have added to it?” Erin asks, confused.
The young creatures look so peaceful here, so happy. Why would someone not take the time to embellish the space and make it properly liveable for them? Surely it would be a better option than leaving them to fend for themselves in the Forbidden Forest.
“Why don’t you try summoning a seed for the babies,” Cresswell suggests. She’s crossed her arms over her chest, and Erin can see the laughter lurking in her eyes.
She knows something Erin doesn’t.
Undeterred, Erin takes out her wand and flicks it, thinking about the acorns she saw laying on the ground of the forest. She mutters the incantation for a basic summoning spell and feels her eyes widen when she feels no tug on her Magic.
She switches to a levitation charm instead and is only half-surprised when she gets no reaction.
“No magic?” She mutters softly. She shakes her head. “Still, you surely could have brought seeds in without using magic.”
“That was my next course of action, yes,” Cresswell nods. “However, the space is a juxtaposition of contradictions. It bends the laws of Magic by creating a space in which we cannot cast it, and yet it rejects outside elements. Anything that was not in this space when it was created withers and rots when it is placed here. Creatures are the only exception to this rule.”
“But why?”
Cresswell looks at her for a few moments. Erin feels thoroughly dissected.
“Have you ever heard of Quisling, Miss Hargreaves?” She finally asks.
Erin struggles for a moment, the name ringing a bell that she can’t quite reach.
“His name isn’t mentioned in official textbooks, so don’t worry if you haven’t,” Cresswell says after a moment. “He was a magical researcher whose theories were often dismissed when he was alive. He wished to prove that wixen could draw on energy deep within them to make themselves more powerful in times of need.”
“He thought we could increase our core power?” Erin gapes.
“Ah, so you know the basics of power theory,” Cresswell smiles, nodding approvingly. “But no, he didn’t think we could make ourselves any stronger than we are. He simply thought that the Magic we usually display isn’t a true reflection of our power. He believed that the full extent of our Magic may only reveal itself when our bodies and minds feel like they are about to fail.”
“That’s a bit dreary,” Erin says, not liking the thought of her Magic not being entirely hers unless she’s in a state of utter distress.
“As I said, most of his ideas were never recognised. His theory wasn’t credited,” Cresswell reassures her. “However, he later made a much more compelling argument for the use of external Magic to enhance our natural power. He thought there might be a way to use our environment in order to cast certain powerful spells, particularly linked to time and space.”
Erin lets out a soft sound of understanding, taking another look at the pocket of peaceful forest they’ve found themselves in.
If it had been a normal rift, a minor tweak on an extension charm, she wouldn’t have questioned it. But the bizarre reaction the space has to Magic is enough to make her look at it twice. It’s enough to consider a theory by a man who wasn’t recognised in his day and age.
“You think someone might have cracked his theory?” She turns to Cresswell, her eyes bright.
“Oh, I have no idea,” Cresswell laughs, patting Erin’s shoulder lightly when she starts pouting. “It’s a fascinating little space though, isn’t it? The perfect subject for a Charms project. Now, come along, we should be getting you back to the castle before your next class.”
Erin is so thrown off by the suddenness of their departure that it takes her a few minutes to gather her thoughts and order Cresswell’s sentences into a semblance of sense.
“Projects are a requirement at NEWT level, aren’t they?” She says suspiciously, narrowing her eyes when Cresswell smiles. “Were you sent here by Professor Alderton or something? Because he’s already given me plenty of speeches about my future and how I should take school seriously. You don’t need to fight your boyfriend’s battles for me.”
She hoped to throw Cresswell off with a mention of her relationship, but the professor only chuckles.
“Believe me, Miss Hargreaves, I have enough students to worry about without taking on Archie’s wards. He knows better than to ask me for help; I did him a favour once and do not intend on ever repeating that mistake,” she says. “However, I have a vested interest in Charms and in wixen who prove to be particularly competent in the subject.”
Erin mulls the words over for a second.
“You think I’m competent?”
“I think you lack drive, Miss Hargreaves,” Cresswell sighs. “But yes, I believe you are incredibly competent. NEWT students have more access to the grounds than underclassmen. The space has so far been left untouched. Perhaps you could learn to tolerate this school if you realised how many hubs of Magic you have at your disposal here.”
Erin snorts, but she’s smart enough not to verbally contradict her professor.
“Consider it,” Cresswell adds just as they reach the edge of the forest. “Professor Prewett will not have room for apprentices next year, but you have until your 7th year to decide if you want to keep wishing for things you cannot have, or if you might make something of yourself here.”
She walks away before Erin can ask her what she knows about what Erin wants.
She’s left alone on the border of a forest that probably contains more magical mysteries than Erin could explore in a lifetime. She turns to stare at it, wondering if there are any secrets lingering right in front of her.
She would never tell anyone, but as Cresswell’s final advice loops in her mind, she does consider it.
NEWTs, a project, an apprenticeship.
Then she realises she’s going to be late to her class and, not wanting to ire yet another professor, she takes off running towards the castle.
She makes it to Potions in record time, her cheeks red and her forehead covered in sweat.
It occurs to her that a month earlier, she wouldn’t have cared about being late.
When did that change?