Chapter 3
Nix flinched, shrinking away from her like she had uttered an actual curse.
Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, tearing her gaze away from that chilling script and the fronds of frost-feathers wreathed around it. Yet even with her eyes averted, the unsettling image remained seared in her mind, stoking her fears into embers, and making her heart throb and her skin prickle with a fresh swarm of goosebumps.
It was clear that Nix wasn’t going to divulge more. The look in her eyes had turned furtive and Anna didn’t think she had ever seen her look so subdued. Even her trembling had ceased, giving way to an utter stillness, as if waiting to see Anna’s reaction, and knowing full well what it would be.
She lifted her head–and even that seemed to take an arduous effort, blue eyes blinking slowly, betraying a hint of sadness, but with a sombre and quiet acceptance, as though she too thought herself to be a dangerous creature that deserved to be abandoned.
Casting a final look over her shoulder, the snowy turned dispiritedly toward the window, waiting for Anna to open it so she could leave.
“No!” It terrified her how thin and panicked her voice sounded, with an unrecognizable tremor. A numbness was creeping over her, like frost crawling over her skin.
“I know you’re scared. I can feel it.” Anna released a shaky breath, a shiver rippling visibly through her. “I don’t know how, but I can.”
“You’re scared of hurting others, scared of hurting me.” More shivers followed, in quick succession, making it hard to tell where one ended and the next began. “But you’re not a danger, or a curse.”
Nix flinched again at that last word and if it wasn’t so Merlin-damned cold, Anna would have kicked herself in the shin.
By now her window was completely frozen over, the once flawless ice riven with deep cracks that announced themselves with ominous creaking and snapping sounds, sending yet more shivers up Anna’s spine.
No, not her window. Her room. Teal eyes widened as they took in the thick glaze of ice spreading across the hardwood floor, scaling the walls and ceiling in a matter of seconds.
White flakes swirled in unseen vortices. A nightstand pitched over, sending the reading lamp on it crashing to the floor with a violent shatter. Anna stumbled back with a yelp, bringing her arms up to shield her face from bits of hail whirling through the air. The teetering chandelier above her head looked to be barely holding up under the weight of glistening icicles.
“Nix, stop! Please!” She pleaded hoarsely. It felt like there were shards of ice in her throat, and she tasted frost on her lips.
The snowy looked absolutely petrified, talons locked in a death grip, wings tucked in tight around herself. Snow clung to her sleek feathers and little beads of ice glinted on her cheeks like silvery tears.
If she didn’t do something soon, they were both going to freeze. Frostnip fingers fumbled for her wand. “Finite–Finite Incantatem!”
That had approximately zilch effect. If anything, the cold only got colder, biting harder into her skin.
Stricken with shivers and blinking wet snowflakes from her eyes, she staggered forward a step, one hand outstretched toward the terrified owl. Icy spikes erupted from the floor, long and thin and sharp as talons, and no less intimidating than the bared teeth of a snarling dragon.
Stay away! Its meaning couldn’t have been more clear.
Anna jerked back, or rather she would have, if she wasn’t half-frozen in place. Instead she sucked in a breath of frostbitten air.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is Nix. She would never hurt me.
Her white-knuckled grip around her wand slackened, letting the wood slip from her fingers and clatter to the floor. Wordlessly, she held out her hand again, not caring that her digits were turning a frightful purple or that she had lost almost all feeling in them.
Her fingers ached, wanting to reach out. But she hesitated.
The snowy had been such a twitchy little thing back when she had first gotten her. More floof and nerves than anything else, for all she looked calm and unruffled, dignified and regal. Even after that fateful breaking of the ice, it had taken Anna ages just to get her to sit on her knee, with the aid of a pillow! Nix had come around eventually, even growing to love pets and soft strokes of her feathers–like that spot on her cheek that was Anna’s go-to whenever the snowy was being a particularly sullen glum and making those sad brooding eyes. But tonight was different; tonight was–
Tonight was my fault. I pushed her.
She knew that Nix trusted her not to hurt her. She just needed to let her know that she trusted her too.
“I’m right here. I’m not running away. I’m not afraid.”
One minute it felt like she was drowning in icy waters, and the next she was gasping in a much-needed lungful of air. All of a sudden the room was still again, the cold abating, snowflakes dissipating into thin air. Nix still looked frozen in fear, but even that was beginning to melt away.
She made a tiny movement toward Anna, like a little owlet taking its first hesitant step forward. And then her eyes widened in alarm.
Even on her best days, Anna had none of the sophisticated grace that her owl seemed to possess in every feather. She really should have known better, as she took a relieved step forward on limbs that were still stiff and unthawing, right onto a patch of melting ice.
One leg went out from underneath her, pitching her backwards, head over heels, arms whirling through the air. A loud ‘clack’ splintered the silence, the sound you’d get when taking a hard crack at a bludger, or being thoroughly clobbered by it.
Lying in a sprawl of limbs, she tried pushing up onto an elbow. Her head felt a little floaty and her vision swam with dark spots and spiralling lights.
Spiralling lights that were plummeting down towards her.
“Anna!”
Something cold and hard collided into her, and then everything went blank.
.
Eyelids cracked open, taking in the not unfamiliar sight of white walls and sterile sheets. Anna groaned, struggling to sit up, and to recall how she had ended up in the Hospital Wing this time. If only her head would stop pounding…
“Anna? Thank Merlin you’re awake.” The worried face of Rapunzel hovered into view.
“Punzy? What–what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you–ugh–shouldn’t you be at the feast?”
“I brought you here, remember? Oh wait, you probably don’t.” The golden-haired girl forced out a chuckle. “You sure did a number on yourself. You’ve been out cold for hours.”
For hours? Anna racked her brain. The last thing she could remember was a pair of wide luminous eyes, so breathtakingly beautiful, even though they were rimmed with red and brimming with tears. And a voice as soft and murmurous as rustling wings calling her name.
She shook her head. It had to be a hallucination.
Wait–if she’d been lying here for hours then where was Nix? Her overstrung owl would almost certainly have taken things badly, thinking it was her fault that Anna got hurt. She hadn’t had another mishap, had she?
“Hey Punzy–back at the dormitory–was there anything strange that you saw?” Like icy magic, for instance.
Her fellow Gryffindor gave her an odd look. “Apart from a chandelier nearly falling on your head?”
“And there was no one else there, when you found me?” Anna probed.
“Just your frantic owl.” Rapunzel pointed to the window, where misty sunlight was filtering in, revealing a small figure huddled on the narrow ledge. “She stayed out there the whole night.”
Anna was on her feet in a second, flinging off the covers and hurrying over to the window, a wave of relief washing over her. “Nix!”
She shot her friend a glare. “How could you leave her out in the cold?!”
“No pets in the infirmary. Those are the rules.” Rapunzel’s shrug was apologetic. “Besides, she’s from the Arctic North. The cold doesn’t bother her.”
“We’re Gryffindors, screw the rules.” Anna opened the window, scooping up the snowy into her arms and carrying her back to the bed.
“That’s not how Gryffindor works, you know.” Rapunzel muttered under her breath, shuddering as a whistling breeze skittered in through the gap, breaking up the toasty warmth of the infirmary. She stole a glance at Nix and shuddered again. “Those eyes, they are–”
“Really pretty, aren’t they?” A smile tugged at Anna’s lips.
“Pretty chilling, I’d say. It’s like they can see into your soul. Or turn your heart to ice.”
Her trusted friend’s words, more than the talons digging into her arm, made Anna grimaced. Up till now, the only ones who hadn’t regarded the snowy without the slightest amount of antipathy were a little House-elf and that infuriating girl from the train, and the latter had been pretty darn quick to change her tune once she saw Nix’s magic.
“It looks like our sleeping princess has awakened. Couldn’t wait for Quidditch season to start before paying us a visit, Anna?” A young woman stood a little ways off, long brown hair casually tied back in a low ponytail. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she approached them, prompting the ward’s lone occupant to blush a crimson red.
Anna had been a titchy firstie when Belle was in her final school year at Hogwarts. Warm and kind-hearted, beautiful inside and out, an outstanding student across the board, and an ace at the Duelling Club to boot, it was no wonder that she’d had a considerable list of admirers. Anna had always thought that the former Head Girl would be a shoo-in to join the ranks of the Aurors on graduation, but instead she had applied for the job of matron at Hogwarts.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got a thick skull.” Belle tipped a restorative draught and a de-frosting potion down her throat, adding in a hushed tone. “Though how you got that nasty frostbite on your fingers I do wonder.”
She looked pointedly at Nix as she said that, causing Anna to gulp nervously as she clutched her owl tighter to her chest, searching the young Healer’s face for any inkling of suspicion. In her fluster, she failed to notice the snowy flinch, a flicker of pain in her eyes.
“That’s a beautiful owl you’ve got there.” Belle smiled disarmingly. “Snowies were always my favourite. There’s such an alluring mystic about them, don’t you think?”
What? No involuntary shudder? No comment about Nix’s unnatural blue eyes? Not even a slap on the wrist for letting the owl into the infirmary? There really was something different about Belle. But it was a good different!
Did you hear that Nix? She thinks you look beautiful! Anna felt her insides puff up as if someone had cast an inflating charm on her. But her uplifted spirits were once again quashed by the dark-haired beauty’s next words.
“If you're feeling well enough to leave, the Headmaster sent a note that he would like to see you in his office.”
“Oh–” Anna visibly blanched. Nix shifted slightly in her arms, her only sign of discomfort from the Gryffindor’s crushing grip. “–I’ll just get her up to the Owlery and then I’ll–do that.”
“I can take her for you, if you’d like.” Belle offered. She made to pick up the owl, who gave a little start, skirting as far back as she could, feathers standing on end.
“Nix!” Anna had never seen her do that before. “I’m sorry! She’s a sweet owl, really. Just a wee-bit shy around strangers.”
Belle shook her head, a loose strand of hair falling into her eyes as she did. “There’s no need to apologise. But I get the feeling she’d rather stay with you.”
“I better head to Potions. You know how crotchety Gothel gets when we’re late for class.” Rapunzel sighed with a sour expression, and even Belle couldn’t hold back a cringe. “Doesn’t help that she’s got that smugface Cassandra as her teaching assistant this term.”
Right on cue the infirmary doors burst open and in trod the Slytherin prefect, lugging two fourth-year students one in each arm, the first sporting a swell of blistering welts on his face while the second was looking rather green and puking out slugs. “Brought you your first patients of the day. Wait, I take that back.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Belle was already escorting the pair to separate beds. “Oh and Cassandra, if you see Arendelle, tell her the Headmaster is looking for her too.”
The raven-haired girl inclined her head as she sauntered out, trading unamicable looks with the Gryffindors on the way.
.
While her friend traipsed off to the dungeons, Anna was left to find her own way to the Headmaster’s office. Belle’s directions were to take a left at the second-floor corridor, then follow the path that branched off from the main passageway until she came upon the stone griffin.
And so here she was, treading down the long, high-vaulted passage that was lined by a row of leering gargoyles, all of them silent and still, staring at her with cinereous eyes. It made her feel a little like a wide-eyed first-year, skulking about the corridors, exploring every nook and cranny of the castle, determined to uncover its untold secrets and mysteries.
At her approach, the griffin sprang to life.
“Pas–Oh, it’s you again. What have you done this time?” With a harrumph, it stepped primly aside to reveal a circular stairwell, leaving Anna’s protests of innocence to fall on deaf ears.
Sure, she was guilty of the occasional midnight jaunt to the Hogwarts’ kitchens, not to mention the violation of a dozen different school rules over the years, but being summoned to the Headmaster’s office was truly a first.
“Do you think he has me for someone else?” She wondered, receiving a low hoot from her owl that sounded a little too self-reproachful to her ears.
“It’s not your fault. Maybe it isn’t about last night?” Anna tried to put on a brave front, but she could think of no other conceivable reason for the Headmaster to want to see her. And he certainly wasn’t inviting her there for a cup of tea.
Leaving Nix under the griffin’s watch, with instructions to be good and wait there for her, she ascended the spiral steps. The room that it led to was large, and quite grandiose. A half-moon table made from granite rock and inscribed with runestone symbols was splayed at its centre, surrounded by ceiling-high bookcases, antique chests and curio cabinets, and portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses hanging on the walls.
Some of the portraiture gave her passing glances as she padded by, careful not to disturb their peaceful dozing.
“What are you doing here?” Someone else clearly had no such qualms.
The curt voice had her whipping around, coming face to face with a woman dressed in a Professor’s robes. She paused in examining one of the books on the shelves, fixing Anna with a flinty stare that reminded her of the stone gargoyles outside.
The woman had to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Anna surmised. She was surprisingly young, in her mid-twenties, at most. Although not tall, she had a slender figure like Belle, with the same long dark hair and light-toned skin, but it was clear from one look that she shared none of the latter’s affable and kind nature.
Anna cleared her throat awkwardly. “I was told that the Headmaster wanted to see me?”
She was met with another long and hard stare, the woman’s teal eyes narrowing to slivers, and then she seemed to remember something. “Hmph. Lucky for you, he’s been called out on an exigent matter, so unless you plan on standing there the whole day, I suggest you trundle off back to class.”
“Really!?” Anna couldn’t believe her ears. Had she unwittingly consumed a phial of liquid luck? “Err, I mean, I’ll just trundle off then, Professor um–”
“Scathach.”
Scathach?What, was d’arc already taken? She clamped her mouth shut, but not quickly enough.
The Professor’s lips curled faintly. “Funny. I didn’t know you were capable of being witty.”
At her flummoxed look, the woman scoffed again, and it was that maddening smirk, as much as her scathing tone, that finally connected the dots for Anna. The girl on the train! She didn’t know if she had been under a polyjuice potion or a metamorphic spell, but she was dead certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it had to be her.
The stark realisation struck her like a bludger to the head. For a moment, her stupefied brain was too stunned to react. All she could do was stare half-gaping and half-glaring at the Professor, who gave her another disparaging look.
“Don’t get your wand in a knot. Your little secret is safe with me.”
For now. Anna read the unspoken threat loud and clear.
Through the mounting silence came a soft knock at the door, which creaked open, accompanied by a light tread of footsteps.
“You wanted to see me, Professor?”
Anna recognised the girl who had spoken. How could she not? Elsa Arendelle stood out like a snowflake in summer. And it wasn’t just her pale, almost ashen skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years.
Soft bangs brushed low on her brow, framing her pallid face like winter’s rime. More thick tufts of snowy blonde hair were swept up and caught in a lush woven braid, cascading like a frozen river over a slender shoulder to end just below the silver and green crest on her school robes.
In the past, Anna’s only encounters with her had been on the quidditch pitch. She knew that the Slytherin had the archetypal physique of a Seeker, lithe and limber, with a deceivingly lean tone of muscles that only hinted at the strength needed to pull off the most audacious aerial manoeuvres.
Up close, she looked even thinner and also a little wan. Anna could see the wiry cords on her neck and the sharp, defined features that looked like they had been carved from pale marble, a stark contrast to the dark, saturnine expression that seemed to be permanently etched on her face.
Her eyebrows were drawn slightly together, framing a pair of glacial blue eyes, the colour of the sky at winter’s solstice. Anna felt her breath hitch in her throat. She had only seen that shade of blue once before, on a little snowy owl whose eyes held more pain and secrets than anyone should hold.
Those icy floes darted over to her, and Anna hastily averted her gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.
She couldn’t help but notice that the Slytherin’s presence had garnered the interest of the room’s portrait residents, who were looking on austerely with folded arms. Elsa ignored their stares, wintry features remaining impassive and aloof. And yet her discomfort seemed palpable, if to no one but Anna.
“The Headmaster isn’t here right now.” She spoke up, trying to dispel the strained atmosphere.
A look flitted across the girl’s visage, some flicker of emotion in those frosty eyes. She nodded once, already turning on a heel to leave.
“Wait.” It wasn’t a request, but a command, halting the Slytherin’s retreating steps.
“Professor?” Elsa tilted her head, confusion crossing her face.
Anna followed her gaze. At first she hadn’t realised who had spoken, as the voice was cracked and rasped, if still sharp enough to cut.
The dark-haired woman looked frozen in place, all the blood drained from her face as though she had just seen a ghost.
“You’re hurt.” The muscles in her jaw were tight, and her eyes were simmering like boiling cauldrons.
She hadn’t noticed it before, as Elsa had kept her body turned away from her, but from this angle Anna could see that her left arm was held awkwardly in some sort of makeshift splint. That couldn’t be Belle’s handiwork. Rather, it looked like she had tried to cast a bandaging charm on herself.
Elsa spotted her staring and hastened to hide her bungled arm from view again.
“Your arm! You can’t leave it like that.” Anna took a step forward, prompting the Slytherin to take one back, keeping a careful distance between them.
“I’m fine.” She replied coolly.
“Don’t be silly, let me take you to the Hospital Wing.” Anna insisted.
“That’s enough.” Professor Scathach withered her with a glance. “Leave. Now.”
Without another word, she turned sharply toward Elsa. “My office or the infirmary. Your choice.” The cold clipped tones once again left no room for argument.
The Slytherin bit her lip, eventually nodding once and trailing behind the Professor as she stalked out the door, leaving Anna to watch them go, unable to shake the tingling feeling at the back of her neck.