Fallen Snow

Homework was a right slog that night. Anna found it hard to concentrate on anything, eventually all but abandoning it in favour of scouring the library for anything she could find on Old Norse magic.

What was it that wise Ravenclaw had once said? Something about all the answers you need being hidden in books?

Hidden being the imperative word, no doubt, the Gryffindor thought to herself as she lifted yet another dust coated tome off a shelf, thumbing through its sallow pages. It wouldn’t surprise her if its antiquity could be traced back to the time of Merlin, which was probably the last time anyone had read it.

The Restricted Section was off limits to students and the Rare Books Section hadn’t turned up anything noteworthy. But deep in the library’s cavernous depths she had discovered a small repository of medieval manuscripts–a collection of vellum scrolls and moldering handbound codices, relics of the days of yore.

Few works and manuscripts had survived from that period, that much was apparent–mostly old chronicles and sagas, rather than any actual magical treatises. She had hoped that at least one of them would hold some reference to this ancient magic, but it seemed that even that was too much to hope for.

It was almost as if it had been deliberately written out of history.

A soft tap-tap-tapping at the window had her snapping her head up, but it was only a bushy-tailed squirrel scurrying by.

Pushing down her pang of disappointment, she slammed the tome shut. It gave a huff of protest at the none too gentle treatment, coughing out a cloud of dust into her face, and launching her into a fit of sneezes.

“–why you dusty old–AH-TICHOO–book!” Watering eyes flicked once more to the paned glass, but there was still no snowy owl peering through it with concerned blue eyes, bearing a hanky in her beak.

The snowy always seemed to know when she was feeling low–like after suffering through another tongue-biting period with Professor Scathach, and would come looking for her on her own accord, just to make sure she was alright and offer little chirrups of comfort and support.

But as of late she had been staying away, refusing to leave the Owlery most days, not even to join Anna in the Gryffindor common room after classes. Only appearing guiltily outside her window at some late-night hour, after everyone had retired to bed.

There were times–right now being one of them, when she could almost sense the snowy’s desire to come to her, if not for something that was holding her back. Though it was hard to put her wand on what.

With a sigh, Anna slumped back to her seat, picking up her favourite quill–an exquisite snowy white feather supplied by her owl, and fiddling absently with it.

Truth be told, she was loath to think of Nix’s beautiful magic as being in any way linked to that dark sorcery. 

Nor could she fathom why Professor Scathach would think so. She didn’t know what grounds the DADA Professor had to go on, or why she was taking such a vested interest in Nix’s magic, but it–just like everything else the woman did, only stoked Anna’s distrust of her. Not for one moment did she believe that her intentions towards Nix were anything close to well-meaning.

The Gryffindor gritted her teeth. All this time she had been so focused on being the best caretaker she could be for Nix, helping her to overcome the traumas of her past to become a happy and well-adjusted owl, and vowing to protect her from anyone who would mean her harm. She couldn’t deny that that incident with the ravens had shaken her to the core, realising for the first time what could happen if they left the safety of Hogwarts.

But could the true danger be lurking not beyond but within the walls of the school?

The thought was not a pleasant one. Anna shuddered to think of what would happen to the snowy if the Professor got her shady hands on her. Poor Nix would be so panicked and terrified if she ended up on the black market, like those runespoor eggs that the Professor had pilfered and no doubt made a pretty penny off.

Somehow, she doubted that the woman’s goals were so provincial. It was one thing when she had solely deemed Nix to be a rare and dangerous magical creature that Merlin forbid should be left at large. But knowing that she could be the secret to unlocking a powerful ancient magic…well, that was a whole other potion.

Plunged deep into thought, she hadn’t noticed the library emptying out, nor the announcement that it was ten minutes to curfew, until she felt an ominous presence creeping up on her.

“Ma-Ma-Madam Gesner!” She sputtered. “I-I w-was ju-ust lea-”

THUD-THUDTHUD-THUMP! A clangorous crash echoed through the library, sounding like a stack of books tumbling to the floor.

The librarian’s face soured, positively swelling up with fury as she stalked off in search of the transgressor who dared desecrate the silence of the library, while Anna, with a great shudder, fumbled for her satchel, hot-footing it out of there before the curmudgeonly librarian saw fit to throw her out herself.

.

Phew, that was a close one.

The little hairs on the back of Anna’s neck were still standing on end as she hurried down the deserted hallways, past sleeping portraits and the odd dawdling student along her route back to Gryffindor Tower. A route which took her past the DADA classroom.

The candles atop the iron chandelier were still lit, flickering gloomily down on the pale blonde girl who was sat bent over a desk, a black feathered quill in hand, writing lines under the watchful eyes of a silvery owl patronus.

It appeared that the Professor had other places to be tonight and had left her loyal spirit guardian in charge of overseeing the detention.

An incipient cold crept over Anna as she stood there, watching Elsa writing her lines over and over on end. Just as she had done each night before and would be doing for each night to come, until the Professor was satisfied that their message had been fully ingrained into her psyche.

The room was deathly silent but for the scratch of quill on parchment, and the occasional barely suppressed sniffle. Though every now and again there would be a pause in the former, accompanied by a small wince from the Slytherin, before she would lower her head, biting her lip and pressing quill to parchment once again.

A frown creased Anna’s brow. How long had she been writing to get a cramp from that?

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Elsa finally rose a little shakily to her feet, hesitantly approaching the teacher’s desk where the glowing luminescent owl was perched.

Anna thought she would turn in a sheaf of papers, but instead she held out her hand.

“May I go now?”

The patronus tilted its ethereal head as it inspected the out-held hand, finally acquiescing with a prim nod.

Elsa’s shoulders sagged in relief and she all but fled from the room, almost running straight into Anna.

“An-Anna!” Enervated eyes lit up, glittering like ice. “What are you–you can’t be here.” She shot a glance at the ghostly owl, who was surveying them dispassionately through silently judging eyes.

Anna felt its unblinking gaze fall upon her, which oddly enough, carried none of the disdain that its conjurer held for her.

“…wish it wouldn’t do that…that staring thing…” Elsa’s rake thin frame shuddered as those eerie blue eyes–not unlike her own, shifted back to her, regarding her coldly.

“It’s an owl thing.” Anna gave a dry chuckle. “My owl does that a lot too. Usually when she’s not best pleased with me for skiving on my homework.”

The mention of homework produced a crease between Elsa’s brows. “Did you remember to finish that essay on antidotes that’s due?”

“Of course I did!” Not. “Wait, how do you know what homework I have!?”

The Slytherin visibly blanched as Anna eyed her suspiciously. “…Cassandra might have mentioned something…” She mumbled shiftily.

A heavy silence hung between them.

Anna swallowed back her sudden nervousness, her throat inexplicably dry. Nor could she figure what was bringing on the sharp gnawing and clawing in her gut. And was it her, or was Elsa too looking like she was having kittens?

“Anna, I–I owe you an apology.” She had never heard Elsa’s voice sound so brittle, like the first ice of autumn, cracking up as she spoke. “One that you are not obligated to accept. But please, believe me, it was never my intention to–” Another crack, one that reverberated through her entire body, like rifts spreading across thin ice. “To hurt you.”

“Forgive me, I shouldn’t be taking up your time. I understand if you’d rather not be around me.” She made to take her leave, but Anna lunged forward, cutting off her retreat.

“Elsa, wait!”

Her fingers closed around that thin wrist, only for the other girl to flinch away, snatching her hand back and tugging her sleeve down over it, while hastily putting some distance between them. 

“Wait, I just wanted to……talk.” Anna finished lamely, awkwardly retracting her own hand.

“Talk?” Elsa blinked owlishly, seeming genuinely confused, as though she had never heard of the concept before.

“Yes, talk. About what happened back then, in the Forbidden Forest.” Anna pressed, giving up on trying to catch the Slytherin’s eye and instead taking stock of the girl before her.

How was it that she reminded her so much of her owl? From those eyes of untold secrets to her instinct to take off at the first sign of ‘danger’, and that carefully crafted veneer of feigned aloofness that no one but Anna seemed to see through. That aside, it was plain to see that Nix was not the only one who had been in a bad way ever since that night.

Right now, Elsa was strung tight as a cord, the whites of her eyes tinged pink, her face all chiseled angles and taut tension.

“I trust you have already been apprised of that.” She said evasively, fingers clutched to her braid.

“But I want to hear it from you.” Anna pleaded. “Please Elsa, tell me what happened. You wouldn’t turn your wand on someone without reason, I know you wouldn’t! You’re not a bad person that would hurt others with your magic.”

Elsa had fallen silent again, a familiar resort whenever she was unsure or hesitant.

Maybe I am.

Anna’s brow scrunched. She wasn’t sure if Elsa had actually spoken those words, in a barely audible whisper, though they had felt more like a fleeted thought flickering through her head.

“I’m sorry…” She caught a glimpse of pained guilt behind bloodshot eyes before Elsa quickly averted her gaze again, with a tight shake of her head. “There are things I wish I could tell you…but I can’t.”

Anna thought that made rather little sense. “Why not?”

“I just…can’t. I’m sorry.”

Anna stared fixedly at her for a moment longer, eventually heaving a breathy sigh. She was still bursting with unanswered questions, but she also knew a closed door when she saw one. The Slytherin had to be the singular most exasperating person she had ever met, and her obstinacy grated on every nerve in Anna’s body, but there was no use confronting her for answers when apologies were all she had to offer–that and cryptic statements.

“Fine. Can you at least tell me this? How long has it been since you last ate? Or slept for that matter.”

Those huge blue eyes blinked once, obviously thrown by the question. “I had a lemm–lemon tart this morning.”

Anna frowned at her, but before she could remind the pale blonde that there were not one but three meals a day, her own stomach decided to air its grievances with an embarrassingly loud rumble, as if to remind her that Elsa was not the only one who had gone without dinner tonight.

“I might have…umm…skipped dinner earlier.” She mumbled sheepishly. “Well, come one, then! Let’s go!”

With that she seized the older girl by the sleeve, all but dragging her down the corridor.

“Anna, wait! Where are we going?”

“To the kitchens, of course! We’ve got to get you fed. And I’ll never hear the end of it if my stomach goes to bed empty.” Anna replied, rather matter-of-factly.

“…Anna, we can’t…this isn’t appropriate…someone might see us…” Elsa protested weakly.

“It’ll be fine! We’re just nicking a midnight snack, don’t make it sound like we’re having a snog in a broom closet.”

With the reluctant blonde in toll, Anna started off towards the Hogwarts kitchens, located in the castle’s basement, taking them down several floors and then through a door at the bottom of the marble staircase in the entrance hall that opened to a cheerily lit stone corridor.

At the end of the corridor was a painting of a giant fruit bowl. She tickled the green pear, which began to squirm and giggle, transforming into a green door handle which she proceeded to grasp, pulling the door open and ushering Elsa through.

They were immediately greeted by about a dozen or so house-elves, bowing and curtsying and wondering if they would like a bit of supper, or perhaps a cup of tea.

"Tea would be lovely…" Elsa managed a thin smile. Almost instantly, a troop of house-elves came bustling over supporting a silver-plated tray with two pairs of teacups and saucers on it.

“Wait here, I’ll see if I can rustle up some grub.”  

Anna nipped into the kitchen, returning not long after with a plate of mince pies. While she was gone, the house-elves had taken it upon themselves to seat Elsa at the end of a long table. A teapot floated about a foot off it, tipping more tea into her cup as soon as she took a sip, while the creamer and sugar bowl were jostling to spoon their contents into it.

She could tell that the poor girl was more than a little overwhelmed by the attention.

“Alright, that’s enough of that you guys. Quit being pushy.” She shoo-ed the tea wares away, before turning back to the pale blonde. “I’ve got us mince pies! And it isn’t even Christmas!”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Anna doing her best to mind her manners and not stuff her face, while Elsa barely pecked at her food, her movements careful and constrained, as if she was in a perpetual state of holding herself back. In between taking dainty bites, she kept her hands clasped tightly together, close to her chest.

“What’s wrong? Is it too sweet? We can get you something else…”

Elsa shook her head at once, stealing an almost bashful glance at her over her teacup. “No. This is wonderful…I never thought…that I would get to experience something like this…it’s not the same as–”

She caught herself, as though she was about to say something she shouldn’t.

“Not the same as what?” Anna tilted her head questioningly.

Elsa bit her lip. Her left hand was clamped crushingly tight over her right, and she suddenly looking anywhere but at Anna.

It left the strawberry blonde feeling slightly perturbed, but her attention was shortly deflected by two house-elves pattering up to them, balancing a giant slice of chocolate gateau on a plate.

She gladly accepted the tantalizing treat, slicing off a large bite with her fork and popping it in her mouth, then nudging the plate over to Elsa, who looked sorely tempted.

Slowly, one hand unclasped itself from the other, vacillating a little longer before picking up a dessert fork and cutting a tiny morsel of cake with it.

“Mmmm, this is UHH-mazing! Do you think it would be rude of me to ask for another? My owl has a bit of a sweet beak, she would absolutely love–” Anna stopped short mid-ramble, the forkful of cake that had been on its way to her mouth falling to the table.

Any blemish or mark would have stood out against Elsa’s ethereally pale skin, let alone the words that looked like they had been cut into the back of her hand, over and over again.

‘I will not tell lies.’

The edges were smooth as though someone had taken a scalpel to them, the penmanship shaky yet still neat and elegant, which only made the gouges they had left–most of which were still raw and bleeding, all the more alarming.

Just looking at it made Anna’s skin crawl, her blood running cold. For a moment, all she could do was stare in aghast.

Her horrified gasp did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin, her own fork clattering to the table as she hastened to cover up her hand and the words that had been etched into it, icy blue eyes as wide and horrified as Anna’s.

A chill shivered up Anna’s spine. The nip in the air was unmistakable, though only one of them seemed affected by it.

“Elsa, what is this?”