A Meeting With Weasley
Your first week of the new term had passed without a hitch, as did most of your friends’. Poppy was thrilled to be in her N.E.W.T level beasts class taking extreme care to tell you about her recent assignment involving diricawls. You even got into a discussion with Lenora about the precarious incident involving a Venomous Tentacula in Professor Garlick’s class. Everyone you bumped into seemed to be adjusting as well as they could to their newly advanced classes.
To say you were doing fair was accurate enough, it was only the first week after all; Professor Weasley had sent an owl earlier in the week requesting you see her when you had the time, now you stood outside of the transfiguration classroom waiting for her lecture to end. It seemed she was doing heavy review of last year’s material from the lack of chatter coming from the classroom. The door flung open as exhausted students flooded out, fumes wafting out of their ears, you saw Natty near the end of the gaggle and she gave you an excited smile; transfiguration was a class she decided to advance with, and it fit her well as an animagus herself.
As the last students exited you shuffled in, scanning the classroom for Professor Weasley. There she stood at the head of her desk which was covered in messy piles of parchment and a single, large book opened to only the first few pages. With the back of her hand, she wiped her brow and straightened herself after noticing your presence.
“You wished to see me Professor?” She ushered you in, summoning a seat next to her desk for you.
“Yes, I did,” she sat down swiftly; you supposed her class was quite hefty in material today as she was winded, “I wanted to discuss with you how your first week back has gone. I hope it was less harrowing than last year.” She poured herself some tea, brushing the scattered papers aside to make room for yours as well, you declined the tea politely, too nervous to partake.
“It definitely has been less eventful, quite normal actually.” A nervous laugh escaped your lips; her gaze beckoned you to continue. “It’s been…hectic, to say the least, with the N.E.W.T levels.” Having to spend all of last year catching up on five years’ worth of magical schooling you felt wholly unprepared to now begin working towards a career in a world you felt you barely knew.
“Ah yes, most students find difficulty with the transition between their familiar schedule and the advanced one.” She leaned over gently placing a hand over yours. “You are not alone in feeling overwhelmed.”
Your relationship with Professor Weasley had been nothing but positive since your first meeting, you were unsure why you felt the nerves shooting through your body since arriving outside the door. Perhaps it was because you knew deep down where the conversation was going to lead.
Her rough hand gave yours a gentle squeeze, her face scrunched together, the corner of her mouth tight. She displayed the expression you wished Headmaster Black had the decency to. “I understand it must be hard for you. To be back here, to see his absence.” She placed her other hand on top of her own, this time soothing herself. “I know it has been hard for me; for all of us.”
Except for Black.
You didn’t dwell on the negative thought, Professor Weasley was in front of you now and trying to comfort you about something so little people seemed to notice. You let your head hang low, unsure of what to say or do, instead letting your eyes release the tears that had building since your letter for the new term arrived. It was all so much to handle, for anyone let alone a student—the weight of the safety of the wizarding world rested on you, and only you alone could make the choice in the end. How were you supposed to react knowing the one person who knew everything you had been through since the beginning was no longer there? That all the people you would talk to from now on would only ever understand bits and pieces?
Your tears fell onto the hands that gathered in your lap, lifting yours from Professor Weasley’s grasp to wipe what remained on your face. “I’m sorry…I think I got your hands wet.”
She pulled a handkerchief from inside her black blazer, removing her glasses and dabbing her own eyes. Her hands stayed damp until she returned her glasses to her reddened eyes, only then dabbing your tears from her hands. She didn’t mind.
“You needn’t worry about anything other than your studies; I have made sure of it.” Professor Weasley returned to her composed discussion, delving into the security measures the Ministry had put in place over the summer to ensure the sanctity of the Repository remained. “No obligations remain for you in that respect. I would rather see you enjoy your sixth year like the rest of your peers, perhaps even attend a Quidditch game or two.”
That sounds wonderful.
However, you knew you needed to tell her about what you saw in King’s Cross, and the feeling in the Undercroft.
“Professor Weasley?” You hesitated to speak but knew it was important for her to know, even if you desperately wanted to pretend it never happened.
“Yes, my dear?”
“At King’s Cross, I felt traces of magic.” Your hands waved trying to express what your words could not. “I wasn’t sure if it was true until I found a mirror, it led me to a place similar to what Professor Fig and I encountered before Gringotts.”
Professor Weasley was looking at you intently, trying to fully grasp what you were telling her. You continued.
“And I heard screams. Pained screams…” you paused, unsure if you wanted to tell her about the reflection you saw, “...I saw Harlow, but he was me. He was my reflection.”
You couldn’t read Professor Weasley’s face, if anything she seemed to be pondering your words.
She sat back in her chair, brows furrowed as she analyzed all you had said. “Did you encounter anything else like that since you’ve been here?”
Your lips tightened, debating on whether to mention the triptych in the Undercroft or not. “No ma’am, I haven’t. That’s why I felt you needed to know.” You had lied, knowing you swore to keep the Undercroft a secret on behalf of Ominis’ wishes.
“Very well, I will have to discuss this with the Ministry. Perhaps they may have some insight that I do not.” Professor Weasley rose from her seat, situating herself over the stacks of paper on her desk. “As for now, please focus on your studies. I am sure they will keep you busy enough. Besides,” she smiled, “there is plenty of time for adventure later.”
With that, you had been dismissed from the classroom and continued about your day. It was hard not to think of all she had said, about Fig and now the Ministry’s involvement with Ancient Magic. Little could be done but think about it, electing instead to do as you were told and focus on your studies, however, you got too carried away with your studying and were now departing from the library with your arms full of books that would help with your advanced lessons.
Central Hall was packed as first years were still acclimating to the vastness of the castle, while the rest of the student body seemed to collectively decide it was a decent hangout spot. You placed your books on the rim of the fountain, catching your breath for a moment and deciding where you wanted to study.
Somewhere away from the crowd would suffice.
You had to give them the benefit of the doubt, Central Hall was beautiful. The dragon mosaic across from the staircase was always lively, you loved watching the reenactment, not to mention the fountain you found yourself at now. Hogwarts always took your breath away.
“That’s a lot of books you got there, need a hand?” You turned to the source of the voice, who happened to be another familiar redhead you had the pleasure of meeting last year.
“Oh, Leander it’s you. You scared me.” Your hand reached towards your chest, feigning that of a true fright.
“I’m sure I did,” he did not believe you, “guess I’m even more frightening than a troll, or a dragon.” You didn’t get to know Leander much outside of class and Summoner’s Court last year, but you both were conversing quite easily. Without asking again, he scooped up a handful of your books off the fountain’s edge leaving only a few for you to carry. “Where were you headed? I can help you bring some of these before my next class starts.”
“I guess I’m going to the grounds, near the Quidditch field.” His eyebrow raised at your unsure tone, but he didn’t ask further instead bringing up the topic of Herbology on your way out to the courtyard. You had known about his interest in the topic ever since he helped show you to the Chinese Chomping Cabbages on your first day of Herbology, it was the only thing you knew about him besides his proclivity for dueling.
“Are you taking advanced Herbology then?” You looked at him as you passed through the wrought gates onto the grounds—it was only slightly less busy than Central Hall.
“I am, actually. Looking forward to whatever dangerous plants Garlick has waiting for us this year.” He shuffled your books around in his hands, as if he was looking for a particular one. Leander hadn’t change much since you last saw him, he was already much taller than you and you doubted he could grow any more.
Well, you hoped he couldn’t get any taller. His face remained stern and determined, reminding you of why he was sorted into Gryffindor in the first place and with a new prefect badge to prove it. He huffed as he pulled out a book from your stack, leaving the weight of all the others to rest on his opposite arm.
Leander held the book up as he looked at you a smile on his face. “It seems you are also taking advanced Herbology this year.”
You smiled and shrugged his way, “Would I really be a Hufflepuff if I didn’t take Herbology.” You found a semi-quiet area of the grounds that would work well for studying, however there was only one obstacle in your way and her last name was Reyes.
“Prewett!” She yelled from across the grassy field, her approach was quick, and she was on a mission. You could only guess it was Quidditch related, as her outfit was absent of any robes or ties, instead it was her houses’ dark green Quidditch uniform, gear and all.
Leander was less than pleased to see her approach him directly, ignoring your presence and probably for good reason. “Yes, Reyes?” He snapped back.
“Where’s the spare Quidditch uniforms?” Imelda demanded. You were glad to have been excluded from this discussion for many reasons, one being Imelda herself.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask anyone other than me?” His arms dropped to his sides, though still holding onto your books firmly.
“I know it was you!” She pointed her gloved finger at his chest determined to find the culprit. “They were there yesterday, and now that tryouts are happening soon, they’re gone!”
Leander shrugged his shoulders, unamused with the irate woman in front of him. “I don’t know, but if I was you, I’d start sniffing around the kitchens. I heard the elves needed more rags.”
Imelda’s jaw nearly hit the floor and without another word she sprinted off toward the castle.
You looked at Leander as he watched Imelda run faster than anyone’s ever seen as she disappeared into the courtyard he turned his attention back to you. “Did you really hide them in the kitchens?”
“Of course not, I’m just wasting her time.” He sat down in the grass, placing your books neatly in a stack. “I put them in the prefect bathroom to soak in the dirty water.”
Your mouth hung open as you sat next to him, an amused huff escaped.
The Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry is as bad as they say.
“What kind of captain would I be if I didn’t sabotage the competition a little?” You looked at him as he handed one final book to you, one you didn’t remember checking out. His hand was large compared to it. Well, compared to everything.
“You play Quidditch?” You flipped through the book he handed to you, seemingly a history of the sport and in turn a guide of how to play.
“I do. I’m the captain of Gryffindor’s team, but my position is Chaser.”
Chaser? Like tag?
“Well, I’ll be honest. I know next to nothing about the sport. But you do seem to have your hands full being a prefect and a captain.” You joked, hoping he would take your pestering lightly.
Leander sat amused, his lanky arms hung atop his knees as you rested against the sturdy tree behind you, cracking open your first book. “It is a lot, but I can handle it. If you have the time, I’d like you to come to tryouts. They start in a couple of days,” he looks at you for any inclination of your interest, “you don’t even need to play. Come mingle, you may find yourself interested.” His demeanor was not reflecting the determined Gryffindor you saw earlier, instead he seemed vulnerable inviting you to an event he was excited about.
“I’d like to come.” With that, you began your exhaustive study session and Leander sat in silence until his class began, content with the company.