Chapter Two
Regulus POV
I arrived at the corridor for prefect duty five minutes early but the girl was already there, leaning against the wall reading a book. On second impression, I noticed she was not as golden and perfect as I first thought. Her hair was frizzy, her posture and limbs awkward and gangly, and she was so tall that by the time I reached her, I realized I only had an inch on her. She looked up and gave a polite smile.
“Hello, I’m Iris.”
“Regulus Black. Let’s begin,” I said, eager to get this over with. “I’ll head clockwise and you’ll take counter clockwise.”
“Sounds good,” she replied.
A Gryffindor would have been furious with me ordering them around. A Ravenclaw would have snipped at me about my attitude but done what I said. But Hufflepuffs? Pushovers. Every time we met during our loops I glanced at her, but she never met my eyes. I counted down the minutes until I was free. When the clock struck five, I sighed in relief. To my surprise, the girl, who’s last name I realized I didn’t even know, spoke.
“Well, since that was so enjoyable I say we do it again. Next week, same time, same place?” she said, with a grin boarding on sarcastic. I was slightly taken aback by how charming it is.
“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” I retorted. She seemed unfazed by my discouraging response and continued to smile.
“I guess I’ll see you then,” she laughed with a wave.
I was surprised by how polite she acted towards me, given that I’d done my best to be cold, distant, and I’ll admit it, somewhat rude. She was determined, I’d give her that. It was kind of sweet, and not in a sickening way. Another Hufflepuff intercepted her halfway down the hall and immediately linked arms and began talking. She was loud enough that I could hear their conversation echoing down the hallway.
“Okay we have to talk about that muggle book you recommended. Pride and Prejudice? Your parents have excellent taste.”
“Actually it was just my mom who recommended it. My dad isn’t really the Regency Era Romance Novel type,” Iris joked.
I started as I realized what that meant: she was a mudblood. As their voices faded out of earshot, I scowled, annoyed with myself for misjudging her.
Iris POV
I pulled out Little Women, which I had begun rereading to stave off the beginning of the year homesickness I always felt. Instead of keeping my thoughts on the book however, my mind wandered. I liked all of my classes and loved my new job at Flourish and Blotts Half Price. It was a little bit of a hike but I’d figure it out. And I missed Danya but was thrilled to be reunited with Mel.
My sixth year prefect duties had been enjoyable too. Besides generally keeping an eye out for trouble, all I had to do was patrol duty. I already knew my Monday afternoon partner, Bryant Kumar, because he was in Lyla’s friend group, and time had flown by during the shift. Tuesday was a more relaxed patrol around the edge of the forbidden forest and Hagrid had been kind enough to keep me company while I strolled along.
I was a little worried about this job, however. As a rule, I steered clear of Slytherins for obvious reasons. Regulus Black didn’t seem particularly cruel, but one never knew. I’d seen him around before in classes because we were in the same year, but we’d never talked or acknowledged each other.
I heard the clacking of shoes against the stone floor and looked up to see him standing in front of me. His posture was ramrod straight, his robes crisp and fitted to perfection. His wavy black hair was neatly combed, and his sharp gray eyes looked down at me with a tinge of disdain. How pretentious. Overall, he gave off a very imposing and standoffish air. I took a breath.
“Hello, I’m Iris,” I introduced myself.
“Regulus Black. Let’s begin,” he answered, coldly. “I’ll head clockwise and you’ll take counter clockwise.”
This was what Bryant and I had agreed upon as well, and though his commanding tone bothered me, I decided to let it go. “Sounds good.”
We walked in opposite directions around the large block of classrooms and every couple of minutes or so, our paths crossed. It was extremely awkward having to walk up to each other again and again in silence. I always avoided eye contact. To distract myself, I planned out my homework load for the night, decided which days of the week would be best to do Quidditch training with Mel, and then imagined myself at Orchard House as one of the March sisters. The September sun filtered in through the long, glass windows and warmed the hallways, making me sleepy.
Finally, the clock rang, signaling dinner. Although Regulus seemed determined to be unfriendly, I didn’t want to lose the first day of our acquaintance without attempting to reach out.
“Well, since that was so enjoyable I say we do it again. Next week, same time, same place?” I said, jokingly. For the first time, his severeness lessened. Slightly.
I thought I detected the ghost of a smile on his face before he said, “I don’t suppose I have a choice,” but with less coolness than before.
“I guess I’ll see you then,” I answered before heading down to dinner.
Melissa came by to walk with me and we threw ourselves into the world of the 1800s British countryside, discussing one of the best classics of all time.
“Okay, but isn’t it insane how a book written two hundred years ago is still so relevant and hilarious. Her sense of humor was brilliant,” I gushed.
“I know! I’m so glad you forced me to read it. And once again I’m blown away by how interesting a story can be without any magic at all. My resolution this school year is to find myself a Mr Darcy,” she declared. I grinned.
“That shouldn’t be too hard. The boys are practically falling over themselves to flirt with you.”
Melissa sighed. “You exaggerate.”
“No I don’t! Everyone likes you, and why shouldn’t they? You’re witty, confident, athletic, pretty, and popular for good reason, which is rare.”
“Well I suppose… but the trouble is they might all be Wickhams. It’s not the lack of boys, it’s finding the right one.”
“Too true,” I agreed. “So are you going to start dating around?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I let out a semi squeal. “I'm so excited for you!” I said, grinning.
“What about you?”
“I'm not really into casual dating. I’ll find someone when I find someone.”
“Well I hope that your someone coincides with my someone. Then we can go on double dates and gossip in our dorms before bed about how much we like them.”
I gently shoved her. “If I ever partake in something that idiotic, lock me in the closet until I become sensible again.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“It’s going to be weird this year without Danya,” Mel mused. The three of us had been best friends since we were assigned to a dorm room together on our first day. She scored an amazingly prestigious internship at a school in South America to study rare Magical Creatures and we couldn’t be more proud of her.
“I know. Like a piece of our trio is missing. Hopefully she’ll visit on holiday.”
“Yeah, when she’s not visiting her family. Think of all the things she’ll learn at Castelobruxo. She’s going to be a genius Magizoologist when she gets back.”
“And then we’ll be able to say we knew her when.”
Lyla POV
I glared at the offending newspaper in my hands, letting my fingertips crumple the edges. Attack on Windlind Leave Eight Muggles Dead and Two Injured, the headline screamed up at me.
These attacks were getting more and more frequent. What had started as rumors of a pureblood obsessed group with a frightening leader in my first year had become reality by my third. The group was given a name, the Death Eaters, and its head began calling himself Lord Voldemort. Speculation of hate crimes turned into massive attacks and raids.
The Ministry of Magic’s aurors, and the newly formed Order of the Phoenix headed by Dumbledore, were attempting to prevent these crimes and capture or kill the Death Eaters, but pureblood mania was more common than I had previously thought. Fear wrapped itself around my gut, warning me of the danger I was in from simply being born. My sister and I could be harassed and attacked even here at school. There were rumors of some pureblood students joining the Death Eaters, willing to carry out the will of the so-called Dark Lord. My parents could get injured or killed in any of the attacks going on just like the Muggle families in the Prophet.
Below the article was an advertisement for Whilloby’s Wondrous Teeth Floss - String that Sings! featuring a special story from Wizengamot member Christopher Linklob. The write up was longer than that of the Death Eater attack.
I stomped on the stone floor I was sitting on, the tear I had shedding while reading the article on the Muggles returning. How blind could people possibly be? There was a war happening whether you wanted it too or not, and people should be caring more about actual human lives rather than if they’re entertained while flossing their teeth.
The article on the attack gave next to no details. There were no names of suspects. There was no information on what steps were being taken to prevent it from happening again. There was no announcement about how the attack was wrong and how muggles, muggleborns, purebloods, and halfbloods were equal. I crumpled up the newspaper in frustration and chucked it through the air.
At least, I had meant to throw it through the air. Instead it passed through a silvery, floating figure. I had forgotten I’d camped myself in the Grey Lady’s Corridor. Said ghost towered over me looking menacing with her waist long hair and scowl.
“I am so, so sorry, ma’am!” I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet, so we were at eye level. “I didn’t see you! I promise never meant to hit you!”
The Lady squinted at me. “Why are you crying?” she asked after a moment of prolonged silence. Embarrassed, I quickly swiped at my checks.
“I’m frightened, ma’am,” I said truthfully. The Grey Lady made a humming noise in the back of her throat, but in her ghost-like form it sounded like wind blowing at an old, creaky weathervane.
“You’re a muggleborn.” She said, her form slightly bobbing up and down. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I confirmed anyway.
“It’s wise to be afraid of the war,” the Grey Lady commented with an air of superior aloofness.
“It’s also wise to not let fear control you and to know your values. Defending them is just the next step,” I retorted.
The ghost hummed again. “I suppose you speak the truth.”
“I try to ma’am,” I responded, trying to ease the tension I had created by talking back.
The Grey Lady gave an undignified sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Enough calling me ma’am, child,” she commanded. “It reminds me too much of my mother.”
“Sorry,” I resisted rolling my eyes as well. “What should I call you then?”
“My given name is Helena,” she responded. “If you ever need the perspective of someone who is undoubtedly wiser, more mature, and more experienced you’ll find me here.”
I frowned, unsure whether I should be grateful or offended. Before I could make up my mind, the Grey Lady—Helena—had drifted off down the corridor.
I sighed to myself and picked up the crumpled Prophet. As I slowly made my way to my common room, I wondered to myself why the ghost had spoken so hatefully about her mother, and why she had offered herself up for communication with me.