Peculiar

"Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart." Fig remarked, and Vera could feel the excitement racing through her veins at the very thought of going in this mysterious carriage, to this school - this magic school! She paced around the carriage several times, drawing an amused chuckle from her teacher.

She finally stopped walking, just in time for him to say, "It's a pity we didn't have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting. I presume you've been practising the spells we worked on."

Of course she had! Much to her and her family's distaste, she had spent day after day murmuring incantations until they were seared into her mind. Frankly, the results were terrifying (she was using magic! Nobody believed in that anymore!) and she kept giving the gardener a scare each time she practised basic casting on those hideous sculptures near him. People outside her family technically weren't supposed to know... but it was the gardener! Who would the gardener tell? The flowers?

Professor Fig cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she couldn't help the light blush that coloured her cheeks at the realisation she had stayed silent for too long.

"I have, Professor." Vera told him, trying to sound as firm and believable as possible. The man raised an eyebrow, but he chose to not question her, instead replying, "Well, I'm quite sure I've never seen someone take so quickly to a secondhand wand. You'll be a force to be reckoned with once you get your own."

Vera would never tell anyone how those words nearly had her jumping around and screaming at those stupid neighbours of hers: "Do you hear that? It's the sound of talent! My talent! I'm a successful witch!!"

(Thankfully, she did not do that, otherwise she was certain Fig would drop dead, and she'd have no guide in Hogwarts.)

Unable to conceal her grin, she settled for saying, "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate you working with me before the term begi-"

A sudden shwooop sound cut her off, and she turned around to see a new arrival glancing around in confusion, before his eyes landed on Fig, hsi frown replaced by an elated smile. "Oh! Eleazar!" The strange man greeted, his voice loud enough to make her wince slightly. He reminded her of that one gentleman who owned a nearby bakery, plump and overbearing as he bustled about, screaming every customer's business at the top of his lungs at each opportunity he got.

"George," Fig nodded, shaking his hand. "Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us."

'George' waved him off with a snort, "I've Apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this." He paused, before leaning in to stage-whisper, "Although, I confess I miscalculated slightly on my first try. Gave quite a fright to some theatre-goers in the West End." Vera let out a polite giggle, but she wasn't really listening. Who on earth was this strange man? And why weren't they setting off for Hogwarts yet?

Fig smiled. "It's been much too long. When I received your owl, I must say I-"

Hastily, George cut him off, murmuring through gritted teeth, "Best not speak here, Eleazar, hm?"

That was odd. She risked a wary glance around the place, and the other two did the same. The air felt a lot more stifling, now that she thought about it. She knew - logically - that no one was really watching them, because who would? The feeling didn't go away though, and she barely listened to Fig concede, "Of course. Why don't we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to."

"Wonderful idea!" The man praised, gleefully clasping his hands together, before adding as an afterthought, "So long as your young charge here doesn't mind me tagging along."

She couldn't really say no, could she?

                                  --𓅓--

The carriage ride, despite what she initially thought, turned out to be a dreary and boring one. Everything Fig and George (who she now knew to call Mr. Osric) discussed went in one ear and out the other. She settled for leaning her head against the window, drowning out the noise and letting another daydream envelop her. Would her peers be kind? Didn't Fig mention a Sorting Ceremony - what house would she be sorted into? Question after question distracted her from what was going on, and a small smile made its way onto her face.

That didn't last very long, as Osric was pressing a quaint little container into her hand, embedded with a sigil she'd never seen before in her life (had she really been given it? Maybe she'd just snatched it away) and it was glowing. When she voiced this concern to the other two, they exchanged a curious glance and told her they didn't see it.

Marvellous. She saw things even talented wizards couldn't. Coming from a family that boasted about staying strong, Vera felt the total opposite in that moment. Her self-pitying internal monologue was cut short when the container burst open in her hands.

A chorus of "Merlin's beard!" from Fig and a "How did you-?" from Osric filled her ears, and she opened her mouth to try and explain that she had no idea either, when Osric reached for the key inside the container.

"Wait, we do not know what it-" was the last thing Mr. Osric probably heard before being encased in the jaws of some beast, along with the back half of the carriage.

'Well, at least I didn't sit on that side.' she thought morosely, as she clung onto Professor Fig, staring right into the jaws of the dragon before them. It glared at her with glowing red eyes, matched with a collar of the same colour. Was that someone's pet?! God, she hoped not. That would mean someone had sent the beast to kill them. A small chunk of the carriage which didn't make it into its mouth happened to strike her right in the cheek, and she cried out in pain, briefly letting go of Fig to cradle the injury and try to pull the offending item out.

"Jump!" Fig ordered, and she sent him a look of disbelief.

"Professor, we'll die!" she wailed, and she watched him roll his eyes in response.

"We have a Portkey, Vera."

"What in Hell is a Portkey??"

Fig didn't reply, just pushed her out of the carriage with a frantic wave of his arm, and grabbed her hand, the other outstretched to attempt reaching the "Portkey". Above them, the dragon roared, its teeth as big as swords, and she had no shame in admitting she screamed during the whole fall.

The world seemed to start spinning and shrinking and enlarging all at the same time, right as Fig grabbed the key, and she went from tumbling towards rocky ground to laying on it, but in a completely different area.

Just before passing out, she whispered a baffled, "What the fuck?" and ignored the admonishing look she received in response from Fig.

                               -- 𓅓--

"Are you alright?" Fig asked as he helped her sit up, gently brushing off some dirt from her clothes.

She nodded weakly. "I think so?" she tried affirming, only to wince at the movement. Wonderful, her cheek had not miraculously healed, and now it ached much worse than it had before.

"You're hurt," he noted, digging in his pockets to produce a bottle of green liquid. 'Wiggenweld,' a distant memory told her. "Here, take this. It's Wiggenweld potion. That stuff'll right you in a second."

If she had ever complained about normal medicine, she regretted it in this moment. The potion tasted like rat's arse, dirt, and a number of other foul concoctions she didn't dare name. She gagged at the taste, but thankfully didn't throw up. She didn't think Fig would appreciate having to clean up vomit.

"Thank you." she rasped, smiling weakly at the wizard. The fact that her cheek still ached despite the potion told her that she would most likely have a scar soon. Wouldn't that be a funny story to tell her parents?

'Mother, Father, it's so lovely to see you! How did I get this on my face? Oh, it's nothing, just got inadvertently attacked by a dragon!'

Fig happened to glance at her just then, and winced.

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, it's certainly... an interesting sight to behold." he answered, giving her an awkward smile. All he got in response was a withering glare that had him chuckling softly.

"I'm sure people will see it as the mark of a survivor, rather than merely any old scar."

The temptation to grumpily smack his shoulder was a strong one, but she resisted, choosing to keep glaring sullenly, eyes blazing with what she hoped was the most intimidating fire he had ever seen in his life.

"What happened?" she asked, changing the subject, only to regret it the moment his smile faded.

"Poor George... I can't believe he-" Fig interrupted himself to exclaim, "What the hell got into that damned thing?! Attacking a carriage mid-air? A typical dragon would never-"

He stopped mid-sentence, giving Vera the chance to ask the question she had been stewing over for a while.

"Professor?"

Silence. 

"Sir, where are we?"