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Mithian's owl arrives halfway through Elena's sixth attempt at finishing packing her stuff, so when she hears the rapping at the window and looks up to see the familiar tawny feathers and steps back in surprise, she trips right over her open suitcase.
"Ouch," she says. Elphius flaps at the window again, not flustered, more indignant at being made to wait. Elena picks her way carefully through the clothes and books strewn across the floor, mutters, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," as she unlatches the window to let Elphius inside. He perches neatly on a precariously arranged stack of papers, and Elena narrows her eyes at him.
"If you fall," she tells him, very seriously, "it'll be your own fault, and you're not getting any treats from me."
He stares back at her unblinkingly, and Elena sighs. There's a curled up envelope between his talons. She doesn't want to read it. She's been getting owls from people for weeks, people who've barely said two words to her in her life who now simply have to tell her how awful the whole business with Squib Aunt Grunhilda, who actually turned out to be Dark Witch No-Blood-Relation Grunhilda, is, and how is she feeling about the whole thing, preferably in a soundbite-length response? Elena really doesn't want to hear it from Mithian, too.
It was different when Vivian barged into her room and announced that she was coming to stay for a few days, because her dad had found out that she was dating a Muggleborn and was being, "positively ghastly about it, honestly Elena, if you don't keep me from hexing him I'll be expelled, and nobody wants that." It was such a Vivian thing to do, right down to the fact that at the end of it all, Elena felt so much better she could cry.
Elphius flaps at her, and just like Elena expected, he sends the papers underneath him scattering everywhere and squawks with indignation, flying to a more secure perch atop her wardrobe. He drops the envelope on the bed as he goes, and Elena glares at him.
"I'm not going to read it," she says. She can see Mithian's pitying face in her head already and, gods, she doesn't need this. "I'm going to see her on the train tomorrow. She can offer her sympathies then, or announce that she's shunning me forever, or whatever."
Elena turns away, busying herself with the books she went to buy with Elyan and Vivian the other week. They flanked her on both sides and Vivian hissed at people who stared and Elena only had a panic attack once, coming out of Flitwick's when she could've sworn she saw Grunhilda on the other side of the street.
"It's not like there's even really anything to be sympathetic about, anyway," Elena continues, carefully putting the books into their own bag. "So I nearly died. So what? I'm still here, aren't I?"
She slumps on her bed, head in her hands, shoulders hitching. There's the sound of wings flapping, and then brief, sharp pain in her shoulder, and Elena turns her head into Elphius's feathers. He pecks at her head in a way that Elena thinks is supposed to be affectionate, and actually is sort of soothing, so.
She looks at the letter on the bed next to her. She bites her lip. She reaches out for it, and then stuffs it in her suitcase between a jumper and the rememberall she got for Christmas when she was six.
"I'll see her tomorrow," she tells Elphius, stroking absentmindedly over his feathers. "Tomorrow."
*
Her dad is more than a little reluctant to leave her at the train station. He hugs her for just a bit longer than usual, fusses over her more than he has since her very first year going away to Hogwarts, until Elena steps firmly back and says, "Dad. Dad. I'm okay. It's okay."
He smiles at her, just a little teary, but he does let her go, then, which is the important part.
Normally she'd have got on with Vivian, but Vivian snuck off to Elyan's so is already on the train by the time Elena's dragging her suitcase down the corridor, peering vaguely into carriages for a familiar face. She might be hoping for Mithian, maybe, maybe, but it's Gwaine she sees first, or, rather, Gwaine who accosts her first, beaming at her from the other end of the carriage.
"Elena!" he says, dragging her into a hug. He lets her go and grabs her suitcase in the same move, which must be magic, but Elena doesn't have the energy to protest that she can drag it along herself, thank you, not today. "Come on, we saved you a seat, kicked Mordred out to make room and all."
"You didn't have to," Elena starts, and Gwaine says, "Yeah, we did, it's Mordred." But he's smiling as he holds the door open for her, and Elena has to smile back.
'We' apparently means Gwaine, Gwen, Freya, Percy and Lancelot, though Elyan and Vivian are notably absent.
"They got their own carriage," Gwen tells her, looking mildly relieved. It’s less that Elyan is her brother and more that Gwen’s never really got past Vivian being kind of unbearable to her in their first and second years. Elena doesn’t blame her, but she wishes there was a way for her to make Gwen and Vivian get along in a way that wouldn’t just be awkward and weird.
“No Merlin?” Elena says innocently, and everyone cackles except Gwaine, who very dignifiedly says, “Merlin who?”
Elena leans into Lancelot’s side, unable to hold in her grin. Nobody’s looking at her funny or avoiding her eyes out of pity, and it’s- it’s good. She’s missed this, feeling normal, feeling safe.
She might drift off like that, Lancelot’s hand scrunching through her hair, because the next thing she’s aware of is a familiar voice saying, “Right, you lot.”
She opens her eyes. Morgana, Arthur, Leon and Mithian are standing in the carriage, shiny prefect badges flashing on each of their robes. Elena isn’t really surprised by this development, but what is surprising is the way Mithian is studiously not looking at her.
Apparently not everyone saw this coming, though.
“Who thought giving you power was a good idea?” Gwaine demands of Morgana, and Morgana smiles wickedly and says, “Watch it, Gwaine, or I’ll dock Gryffindor points.”
Exactly, Gwaine mouths furiously, and Arthur rolls his eyes.
“Trust me,” he says, “the rest of us are as baffled as you are. Elena, uh, can I have a word outside?”
Lancelot’s hand tightens in her hair, and everyone sort of closes in around her. Elena is terribly grateful, and also might have a chocolate frog lodged somewhere in her throat.
“Of course,” she says, disentangling herself, offering a reassuring smile to the others as she ducks out of the carriage behind Arthur.
“Professor McGonagall has assured me there will be no press allowed within a hundred feet of Hogwarts,” Arthur informs her. “We might have permission to hex Rita Skeeter on sight, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
Elena smiles despite herself. “Understood. Thanks, Arthur.”
“Anything you need,” he says gravely, “don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Elena nods, and Arthur sort of claps her on the shoulder before turning to stride off. She’s about to return to the carriage when she sees Mithian hanging back, looking uncomfortable in her skin in a way Elena can’t remember her being in years.
“Hi,” she offers, biting her lip, messing with her hair, unable to stop herself fidgeting.
Mithian laughs a very small laugh. Her gaze is still fixed somewhere behind Elena’s head. “So you are still talking to me.”
“What?” Elena frowns, and Mithian finally looks at her as she says, “You didn’t tell me.”
“Didn’t tell you what?”
“I had to find out from Arthur,” Mithian says, and now that she’s actually looking at Elena, Elena can see that there’s real, palpable hurt in her eyes. “I thought we were friends. I thought you were- I thought you’d want me to know.”
“Sorry,” Elena says tonelessly, “I was too busy being kidnapped and tortured to send off an owl about how I was doing.”
Mithian flinches, and maybe that was unfair, but Elena is tired, and the safe feeling from the carriage is already receding to a dark corner of her brain she knows she won’t be able to get it back from. This is what her life is, know. People thinking they have a right to her reactions, her feelings, her life, just like Grunhilda did.
“See you at Hogwarts,” she tosses over her shoulder as she storms back into the carriage.