Chapter 2
The Ravenclaws in Anjali’s year were not, by any stretch of the imagination, a tight-knit bunch; that is, they were all generally civil to one another, and aside from the occasional brief spat, were not known to have much by way of interpersonal drama. But they were not close, having grouped off back in first year with certain others. The fourth-year Ravenclaws were close to a few others in their house and year, but were at the same time often distant and cordial with the others.
There were five Ravenclaw boys in Anjali’s year, and none of them were particularly of note to her. John Reems and Colin O’Brian were close with each other and rarely interacted with the rest of them, though they were good company when they did. Oliver Jones was kind but quiet and reserved, and seemed to prefer the company of his books and the fifth year girls to the rest of his house. All of Paul Hartley’s friends were Hufflepuffs, so she never saw him around, and of course nobody ever wanted to talk to the insufferable Preston Pucey.
The six Ravenclaw girls were split into two groups of close friends, and though they all got along, the dynamic was tenuous at best, for nobody wanted to destroy the peace and make their shared dorm a living hell. By unspoken agreement, they decided to get along and figured once they made it through seventh year, they wouldn’t have to ever see the girls they didn’t quite care for ever again.
Opal Hughs and Daisy Barker were two sides of the same coin. Both were incredibly clever but chose not to care about the world around them, instead remaining self-absorbed despite the war that had been raging for nearly five years already. Daisy was obsessed with Anjali’s cousin James, which was equal parts amusing and disgusting, and Opal, for her part, had a giant crush on one Sirius Black, though he never seemed to pay her (or really, any other girl) much mind. They weren’t bad people necessarily, just immature, and though Anjali hoped they’d grow out of it, she still didn’t exactly enjoy her interactions with them.
Caroline Boatman was, in Anjali’s opinion, far more bearable, if only because she wasn’t entirely obsessed with a boy, and seemed at least peripherally aware of her own standing and privilege. She wasn’t exactly the type to stand up to her friends when they were being particularly catty or annoying, but she had, on occasion, apologized on their behalf. Of course, it was endlessly frustrating that Caroline wouldn’t do anything more than that, or address her supposed best friends, but Anjali remained hopeful that one day, the other girl would grow a backbone.
Anjali, of course, had Henrietta Silverfoot and Ifeoma Okoye in her corner. Hettie was tall and and blonde, with piercing grey eyes and full lips. She was a half-blood, but the wizarding side of her was descended from Veelas; her father had come from the type of Pureblood family that had disowned him when he courted a Muggle woman, though twenty years later they were married and very happy. When Hettie had arrived at Hogwarts, she’d had to spend a good amount of time ignoring the sneers and glares of Slytherin prefect Lucius Malfoy, who, as her Pureblooded third cousin, had inherited the Silverfoot fortune by default after Harrison Silverfoot was kicked out of the family. Still, Hettie had a quick temper and was known for her sharp, impatient retorts, though with her two closest friends the bite in her tone was often undercut by warm affection. She was very creative, and loved nothing more than helping Ifeoma test her charms and jinxes.
Ifeoma Okoye had only begun living in their dorm at the start of term this year, though she’d been best friends with Hettie and Anjali since they were eleven. She was a Muggleborn witch, though she learned later from her grandmother that her late grandfather was, in fact, a Squib. Her family had immigrated to the UK when she was a toddler, and in early schooling the young Ifeoma grew up a voracious reader, in part to ignore the racist bullies she’d been forced to endure. Soft-spoken and exceptionally kind, Ifeoma nonetheless had a wit of steel and was known to use the most creative jinxes of her own creation when provoked, all with an easy smile on her face. Of course, sometimes the discrimination got to her, as discrimination was wont to do; even now, whenever she received shit for doing something mundanely normal and none of anyone’s business, like using the restroom, it would break her heart and wear her down. Her strength did not stop her from being hurt, after all; and she knew she had people to rely on, even if they couldn’t understand what she was going through. Of the three friends, she alone knew what she would do after school—she wanted to be a Spell Crafter, and already her experimental Charms were reasonably successful. She’d created a few mild hexes, too, which Anjali and Hettie tried out gleefully (but secretly) on some of the more cruel Slytherins in their year.
Anjali knew quite well that the rest of the school, on the occasion that they did see her, thought of her as Hettie’s and Ifeoma’s sidekick rather than as an autonomous person of her own. This did not bother her nearly as much as it did her friends; she maintained that anyone who made the effort to know her knew differently, and those who did not were not worth getting upset over. It was a lesson she had learned when she first moved in with her aunt, when eight year old James gave her the cold treatment for months on end, unrelenting, until finally even his indulgent parents put their foot down. James finally grew to see her as a real person, and not just a literary skeleton of one, but not many others did. It was always a source of whispered confusion to the rest of the student body when the most interesting person in the school (James) sought out the most unremarkable (Anjali).
It was for that reason that when James caught her eye in the Great Hall one day during dinner the second week of September and beckoned for her to come over, she steeled her nerves, bracing herself for the odd looks sure to follow her as she spoke normally with the most popular boys in school.
“You two go ahead,” she told Hettie and Ifeoma. “I’ll be along soon.”
They nodded, and Anjali approached the Gryffindor table, eyebrows raised. James was sitting there with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, all of their plates heaped up with food.
“Switch Herbology partners with me,” he begged.
That was something to be said for James—he got right to the point.
Anjali furrowed her brows. “Er—no, thanks.” She nodded politely at his friends. “Hello, Black, Pettigrew.”
Pettigrew managed a quick wave, and Black spared her a polite smile.
“No?” James echoed. “Come on, please?”
“And willingly subject myself to a group with Daisy Barker and Preston Pucey?” Anjali shook her head. “Sorry, James, I already live with them.”
Next to James, Pettigrew coughed, unsuccessfully trying to hide a snicker.
James made a face. “Switch with Barker or Pucey, then, I can’t stand either of them!” He whinged.
“And you want to send one of them over to work with Lily Evans?” Anjali asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought you liked her more than that. Besides,” she continued sensibly, “Daisy can’t work with her, remember? That’s what got us into this mess.”
James groaned. “I thought when I asked Sprout to switch she’d put me with Evans!” He complained.
Anjali sighed. “It’s only been two weeks, James, I doubt she’s any more likely to switch us now than she was when you asked.” She pointed out.
James scowled, but then caught sight of Lily Evans walking into the Great Hall with her friends. She paid him no attention, but his eyes followed her as she sat further down the Gryffindor table with Mary Macdonald.
“Is that all, then?” Anjali asked, casting a longing glance back at the Ravenclaw table, where she could see Hettie and Ifeoma digging into what looked like a mouthwatering curry dish.
“What, eager to leave?” Teased James, his mood suddenly lifted at the sight of Lily Evans.
“A bit,” Anjali said honestly.
“Oh, come on, stay a bit and catch up with your favorite cousin,” James cajoled.
Black, who had long since lost interest in the conversation and who had been boredly making his goblet dance for the better part of five minutes, finally looked up. “Come off it, mate, if she wants to go, better let her. Besides,” he smirked, “Can’t blame her, really. It’s hard enough just looking at your ugly mug, I can’t imagine being related to it.”
James gaped in mock offense, but chuckled anyway. Black smirked, clearly pleased with his own wit. Pettigrew, who seemed to take his cue from the other two, laughed along.
Anjali smiled, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. Honestly, did nobody in Gryffindor appreciate a clever wit? Surely Lupin…
She cocked her head to the side and blinked. “Where’s Lupin, then?” She asked. “Still feeling ill?” He hadn’t been in class the previous day, which was normal enough; he was known to come down with a one-day bug every so often. She didn’t miss the significant looks the three boys exchanged. Really, Gryffindors needed to learn the art of subtlety.
“I suppose,” James said, his tone a bit too airy to be genuine. “Haven’t been to see him.”
“Doesn’t he live with you?” Anjali pointed out, brows furrowed. “Surely you saw him in your room this morning, and again after classes?”
“Er—”
“He went to the Hospital Wing for a Pepper-up Potion, and Madame Pomfrey told him to stay,” Black cut in smoothly. “You know how she is. I’ll tell him you were concerned, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” His tone left no room for argument—Anjali knew a dismissal when she heard it.
“Splendid,” she said mildly, “Thank you.”
She didn’t believe for one moment that the boys had been honest with her about Lupin; James might be good at lying now, but she’d been there when he’d perfected that skill at age nine, and she knew his tells. Still, it really wasn’t any of her business, and she didn’t care all that much what Lupin was doing—probably some sort of mischief, knowing her cousin’s friends.
“Well, James, if that’s all, I really must get going,” she said. “I have some extra credit for Professor Kettleburn after dinner.”
“Alright, alright,” James rolled his eyes, shooing her off. “Singlehandedly proving the stereotype, you are.”
“Oh, I’m not too worried, seeing as you’re singlehandedly destroying it,” Anjali replied pleasantly as she got up. “Enjoy dinner.”
“You too,” James echoed.
“Black, Pettigrew.” Anjali nodded at the other boys. “Tell Lupin I hope he feels better.”
“Sure,” Black said.
As she walked back to the Ravenclaw table, Anjali ignored the looks of interest and confusion that came her way. It wasn’t unusual—it happened almost every time she had a conversation with her cousin. And it didn’t even happen to just her; the boys were so popular that a number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and other Gryffindors approached one of them for various reasons about once a week. They were subjected to the same mild curiosity Anjali had just piqued from the student body. It was confirmation that she, and most other people who approached those boys, did not belong with them for some reason or another.
“What was that all about?” Ifeoma asked when she sat down.
“James wanted to switch Herbology groups,” Anjali explained lightly, digging into her curry with gusto.
“Can’t blame him,” said Ifeoma, wrinkling her nose. “Between Preston and Daisy, he’ll go absolutely mad.”
“Speaking of madness,” Hettie said, checking her watch, “You’re not actually going to do this ridiculous mission for Kettleburn, are you?”
Ah, yes—Anjali’s extra credit assignment for Kettleburn.
Ever since she’d started taking Care of Magical Creatures the year before, Anjali had found herself besotted with the subject. She supposed it might have something to do with the way her family died (killed in the dead of night by a hungry Lethifold that left Anjali behind because she was too small), but she’d found the class fascinating. Professor Kettleburn, widely known for his particular disregard for school rules in the face of studying legendary creatures, was more than willing to assist Anjali in her pursuit for more knowledge. He had entrusted her with the care of some unicorn foals, who’d apparently been abandoned by their parents. Anjali was to look after them tonight in a shift that lasted until one in the morning—past curfew for anyone who didn’t have Astronomy at the time, which, incidentally, were second year Hufflepuffs, so there was no chance of Anjali blending in. Luckily, Kettleburn had been more than accommodating, and Anjali was determined to see this project through.
“Course I am!” Anjali said, affronted. “It’s not really a mission, anyway, he just wants someone to check in on those unicorn foals, and it’s in viewing distance from Hagrid’s place. He’s even given me express permission to be on the grounds so late, wrote me a note and everything. There’s no danger, not even of a detention.”
“Except you’ll be just outside the Forbidden Forest all night, and if those unicorns’ parents come back they might attack you.”
“Alright, so there’s a bit of danger,” Anjali amended, finishing the last of her curry. “But really, I’m not about to be an idiot about it. I’m not a Gryffindor, am I?”
“No, I suppose that’s fair,” Hettie muttered. Ifeoma, who was much more relaxed about this sort of thing, nudged her.
“Cheer up, Hettie! Look on the bright side, if Anjali dies tonight you and I can get a week off from classes.” Ifeoma joked. Hettie let out a reluctant laugh.
“Just a week?” Anjali frowned mockingly. “I’m worth at least ten days, thank you.”
Still chuckling, her two friends waved her off, and grabbing the rest of her pumpkin juice to go, she headed out of the Great Hall and down to the Forbidden Forest, where she began to live out her childish fantasy—after all, how many people could say they spent their night watching over and caring for sweet, kind little unicorn foals.