Unexpected
After the disaster in Charms, she had resigned herself to the possibility that magic would continue to slip through her fingers, elusive and mocking, only deepening her self-doubt and insecurity.
But in the dimly lit dungeons, beneath the oppressive weight of heavily scented fumes and shadows, she received a pleasant surprise. Potions did not demand the abstract, intangible grace of a flicked wand and a muttered incantation. Potions was logical, calculated, complex. Its main requirements were precision, patience, and an understanding of how each element played its part in the grand alchemy of creation, and obedience to the rules had always been something she had been good at. She didn't even need her wand throughout the lesson.
Her contentment and satisfaction increased with every clockwise stir, and she found herself almost smiling as the flickering candlelight danced over the glassy surface of her cauldron, the scent of crushed valerian root and powdered moonstone thick in the air. The Draught of Peace was a delicate brew, one that required careful measurement and an almost reverential handling of its ingredients. Yet as Adela moved through the steps, thoroughly concentrated, she found that she did not need to double-check the textbook. Her hands worked with instinctive surety, recalling the precise properties of each component from the long hours spent studying over the summer. It was like chemistry, like the quiet satisfaction of understanding how elements reacted, how formulas unfolded. And in this, she was surprised to find herself actually enjoying the process, a grounding sense of control settling over her.
Nevertheless, all throughout this peaceful procedure, she had been aware of Snape's presence.
He circled around her station like a hawk. He did not speak. He did not sneer. He did not offer the sharp, withering remarks he had thrown at her only an hour prior, when he had scoffed at her "inflated sense of intelligence." Instead, he lingered, watching. Almost as if expecting failure, Adela thought, and she repressed the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance.
Nevertheless, she had to admit that he made her nervous. His dark gaze followed every measured movement of her stirring, every careful addition of powdered substance. She could feel the weight of it, the subtle tension thrumming beneath the surface, but she gave him nothing to correct. Nothing to sneer at. The potion came together seamlessly, the silvery vapor rising in soft, curling wisps. First to finish. Perfectly executed.
He said nothing. That was the highest form of praise she could expect from him, and she took it as a victory.
She felt herself exhale a big breath of air she didn't even know she was holding as she left the dungeons, but satisfaction and confidence had settled deep within her bones. She had almost wanted to smile at her professor when she handed him the sample of her potion for grading, knowing that she had completely aced it.
She walked the shifting staircases with a lightness she had not known since arriving, pausing only briefly to ask a passing portrait for the time, still unaccustomed to their lively nature. She was delighted to find that she still had time until dinner, and slowed down her pace, finally admiring her surroundings.
The marble staircases glowed dimly under the light of the bright torches, which flickered with hypnotic movements. She took note of how the people in the paintings moved around, jumped canvases and held conversations between each other, some of them even stopping to greet her on her way. She walked the corridors, letting her legs pull her automatically towards her destination as she admired the silvery bright light of the floating ghosts' movement. She was sure she had never been as fascinated in her life.
Nevertheless, her mind wouldn't cease to fill with thoughts about a certain pair of onyx eyes, observing her, assessing her.
Lost in this imagery, she didn't even realize she had reached the Ravenclaw common room when the bronze eagle posed her with a riddle.
"I am the ultimate killer, found in your mind. I can bring peace and turmoil, and am elusive to find. What am I?"
Adela found herself responding immediately, as though she had already had the answer waiting to be released from the tip of her tongue. "Thoughts".
The door swung open and Adela walked in the room, chuckling under her breath at the riddle. She had much experience with thoughts that brought turmoil, that was for sure.
Her dormitory was empty when she walked in, the faint scent of lavender and parchment lingering in the air. She sighed as she closed the door behind her, dropping her school bag next to her, pushing off her patent leather shoes off her feet, relishing the feeling of the soft carpet under her weight. She was almost tempted to get in bed, skip dinner and read until her eyes gave out, but she decided on a quick shower.
After grabbing one of her long shawls, she entered the spacious, light blue-tiled bathroom and lazily shed her uniform under the dim glow of candlelight, the fabric pooling around her feet. Looking at herself in the mirror, under the warm, soft and dancing flickers of light, she felt almost erotic. Without the tight constraints of the skirt and stockings, she breathed more easily, tracing absent fingers over the red indentations left on her skin. Consequences of looking hot, she said to herself, chuckling. Admittedly, the uniform was one too many sizes short and fit her like a glove, even being a little too tight. She was just glad she hadn't been dress coded on her first day. Looking at her figure, she jokingly thought to herself that she didn't blame Snape for haven't been able to pull his eyes away from her. She knew he had been staring at her cauldron, but she enjoyed amusing her own delusional imagination.
She kicked her uniform away and stepped into the shower, letting her black hair get impossibly darker under the hot water, which scalded her skin in a way that was almost comforting, cleansing away the weight of her first day. She closed her eyes as it cascaded down her back, letting the heat seep into her muscles, unraveling the tension knotted there. She hummed absentmindedly under her breath as she massaged her scalp and body, and she stepped under the water as it washed away the soap and the unforgiving thoughts about black billowing robes and dark eyes.
When she stepped out, the mirror had fogged over, her reflection little more than a shadowed blur behind the condensation. She wiped a hand across the glass, watching as her features emerged, green-blue eyes, dark hair dripping water onto her hips, a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
She wrung out the water from her hair onto the sink and dried it as best as she could with the towel, hanging it up on one of the four hooks behind the white door. Wrapping the turquoise blue shawl around her frame, she stepped out of the bathroom, feeling utterly refreshed.
She found her three roommates sprawled across one of the beds engaged in an easy and unguarded conversation. There was a warmth in their disposition, a quiet understanding that did not need to be spoken aloud. She liked them. It was not friendship, not yet, but it was something close. They greeted each other and asked about their day, sharing gossip and giggles along the way.
Adela grabbed her clothes out of the built-in wardrobe and drew the blue curtains of her four-poster bed, silently dressing herself in loose and smooth black cotton pants and a simple white tank top. She was just going to diner after all, no need to dress up.
The four roommates made their way to the Great Hall together, passing many coiling stone corridors, moving staircases, blabbering paintings and even ducking to avoid Peeves' slime throwing along the first floor, all while talking animatedly about how their first day had gone, the professors they had loved and hated and the cute boys and girls in their classes. When they reached the Entrance Hall, they parted ways on promises of continuing their conversation later in the dorm, and each of them went to sit with their own group of friends.
Adela found herself being pulled into the familiar circle of Luna, Neville, and Ginny, who were sitting at the Gryffindor table.
Luna looked at her with a kind expression when she saw her approaching. "Oh, hello Adela!
Neville and Ginny turned to watch her at this, and they greeted her with bright smiles and waves. Next to them, Adela saw the girl who had sat in front of her in Potions, a ginger and freckled boy next to her, and sat on his side was the one and only Harry Potter.
Adela sat down next to Ginny, giving her a quick hug before she turned towards Luna and Neville, whispering a quick and smiley "hi". Then she turned happily towards the three strangers, trying to look friendly.
"Adela, this is Ron, my brother" the ginger scratched his head and offered her a genuine side smile, "Hermione Granger," the bushy-haired girl greeted her amiably, "and Harry Potter" at this last presentation, Ginny's cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, but the boy, completely oblivious to this, just offered Adela an awkward smile.
"It's very nice to meet you", said Adela with a sincere smile, and the trio replied in the same genuine way.
"So", said Hermione kindly, "how are you liking Hogwarts? We heard about your unusual arrival".
"It's very cool," replied Adela excitedly. "I would've never expected something like this in a million years, but now that I'm here, it feels like it couldn't have happened any other way". Harry nodded at this, apparently understanding the feeling.
"How are the subjects? Picked any favorites yet?" asked Hermione, with a deep glint of interest in her eyes.
"Charms was kind of a bummer, but I absolutely loved Potions. I think it's going to be one of my favorite subjects for sure".
Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione looked extremely surprised at this, while Neville had paled a shade or two and was looking at Adela with huge, almost fearful eyes. Luna was just staring absently at the ceiling and hadn't seem to notice anything.
"Potions?" Neville exclaimed, aghast.
"I'm sorry." Said Ginny "but are you mental? No one in the whole school likes Potions with Snape, even less the seven years, with how strict and demanding he is with them".
Adela knew Snape was mean and even feared by the way he had been in her class, but she didn't know he had such a terrible fame around the students, so much that Neville seemed to lose his ability for speech. She had assumed he was just a dick, but not straight up bad.
"People hate him that much? She asked, appalled, and everyone in the table nodded eagerly.
Suddenly, the Gryffindor table filled with plates of roasted chicken and heaps of mashed potatoes. As she made for a drumstick, Adela spoke.
"I mean, I know Snape's kind of a cunt, but I don't think he's that terrible." Adela knew she had fucked up the second those words left her mouth, given the terrified face of Neville and the hateful looks in Harry's and Ron's eyes, who were looking directly behind her. Shit. She already knew what she was going to encounter when she turned around.
She spun in her seat, and a tall figure of black towered over her, arms crossed over his chest and an expression painted with a sneer that gave off the most disdainful look she had ever seen on someone's face.
All the conversations around the encounter suddenly stilled, expecting, waiting to see how hateful Professor Snape's answer was going to be, how many points he was going to take off Ravenclaw and how many cauldrons Adela was going to have to scrub for the rest of the school year.
Adela looked up at him, trying to repress the helpless and scared look that was threatening to draw on her face, and she just waited anxiously for the lash out. Snape and Adela looked at each other in complete silence for a few seconds, and she could've sworn a fly could have been heard in the noiseless tension of that moment.
"Detention, tomorrow, 10pm, my office." Each word sounded sharp, extremely measured, calculated, almost as if he knew that if went off script he would go berserk and start flipping tables.
Without another word, he turned and walked in long and decisive strides towards the staff table.
"Oh. My. Fucking. God." If Adela thought she had ever been redder before in her life, she was wrong. Color rose up to her cheeks and her neck immediately as she covered her face in embarrassment. She couldn't believe what she had just done. She had called a teacher a cunt, to. his. face. (kind of), and even worst of all, it had been Severus fucking Snape.
The moment Snape was out of earshot, Ron busted out laughing loudly, clutching his stomach. Harry was still looking at Snape's back with a sneer comparable to the professor's own, and Hermione was hitting Ron with a book on his head ("It's not funny Ronald!"). Ginny and Neville looked at Adela with unmistakable pity, an emotion that seemed to ripple through Gryffindor's table. It was as if her beloved dog had just died, and everyone was offering their condolences through silent, sorrowful glances.
"It could've gone worse, I believe" said Luna hopefully, but Adela didn't seem to hear her.
She wanted to disappear. She wanted for the earth to split in two and swallow her. She offered her friends quick goodbyes and attempted to go back to her dormitory as quickly as she could, but a high voice interrupted her train of thought.
"Miss Benson." Professor Flitwick had appeared at her side, his expression pleasant but expectant. "Professor Dumbledore requests your presence now." he smiled at her and she thanked him quietly, still in shock, but he didn't seem to notice as he walked back to the staff table.
"I'll see you later" she said to everyone, her expression still as if she had just suffered shell shock. The others greeted her quietly, and she even felt Ron pat her on the back, a demonstration of quiet understanding.
"Oh, by the way, the password for the office is Toffee Éclair. For Dumbledore's office, you know." said Harry awkwardly before she could go, and she thanked him, giving him an appreciative smile, and left the Great Hall.
"Poor girl" sighed Ron, but his attention went immediately back on the chicken and mash he was devouring.
The spiral staircase led to a heavy wooden door, which creaked open into a circular office filled with the scent of parchment and candle wax. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, interrupted by the watchful eyes of past headmasters in their portraits. Strange silver instruments ticked and whirred on spindly tables, casting soft wisps of smoke into the air.
At the center stood a grand claw-footed desk, scattered with parchment and an overturned inkpot. Nearby, the Sorting Hat slumped on a shelf, and the Sword of Gryffindor gleamed in its glass case. Perched beside it all, Fawkes the phoenix blinked at her, his crimson feathers glowing in the dim light. The room hummed with wisdom, secrets, and a magic that felt as old as time itself.
"Ah, Miss Benson. Please, have a seat."
Adela sat in the chair in front of the headmaster's desk, slowly and wearily. She didn't know what she was doing there, and she didn't exactly want to give him a reason to keep her.
"I hope your first few days at Hogwarts have been enlightening?" Dumbledore began, his tone light and friendly.
"They've been... eventful," Adela admitted, choosing her words cautiously.
"Adjusting to an entirely new way of life can be quite the challenge." He leaned back slightly, studying her over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.
"It definitely has been" replied Adela with a small chuckle.
As if he had considered the small talk pleasantries to be over, Dumbledore attacked.
"I'm going to be honest with you, Adela, because I know you are a smart girl, and hiding the truth from you would only be counterproductive and make you distrust me." said Dumbledore with a calm demeanor but a certain seriousness in his eyes.
"There are things I need to know about you, about your past, about your life. You may have heard that a certain dark wizard is at large once again, and I am afraid to confirm that this is true. Voldemort is growing stronger every day, and everything that we can do to swerve him off his goals, I consider a victory" pronounced the headmaster.
"Of course, sir." replied Adela, "but I'm-"
"Wondering what any of this has to do with you? Confused as to why I need to know certain things about you? It is only natural, my dear." Adela felt like she was having her mind read, yet again.
"You see, Wool's Orphanage isn't just your orphanage, Miss Benson."
Given the context, the next words that Dumbledore spoke had already been expected by Adela.
"Voldemort grew up there". Hearing the confirmation of what she had been fearing felt like a slap in the face.
"What?" she stated simply, still in disbelief.
"I am afraid Voldemort and you have shared homes, even if at different points during out timeline, Miss Benson. It is because of this that you may be of help to our cause, and possibly critical to the downfall of Voldemort, should your insight prove to be significant." Adela swallowed this information like a tough pill, but straightened and looked at Dumbledore with determination in her eyes.
"How can I help?"