Chapter 3
Madame Pomfrey sought me out before classes started the next day and asked me to attend the Hospital Wing with her. Hesitantly, I obeyed, immediately suspicious of Hagrid. I had spent last night pouring over every text I could find in the library regarding wand cores, but none had proved helpful and I was beginning to get nervous. The older woman led me down the corridor, guiding me to an empty bed in the back of the hall filled with empty beds, all of which seemed perfectly acceptable to me. Still, she drew the curtain around us and sat down on the wooden chair next to me.
“Dear, Hagrid told me you’re researching your wand,” she said gently, “and mentioned you may be experiencing some symptoms?”
I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to formulate a plan that didn’t involve making him a liar but also provided me with more information. I bit my tongue and finally said, “Yes, since my second year here I’ve been having some strange symptoms.”
It wasn’t a lie. I had. Though I doubt it had to do with my wand. A nervousness flitted about her face.
“And what are they? Why have you not come to me yourself?”
“They seemed minuscule,” I admitted. “First it was the occasional headache. Nausea and dizziness, worsened around my menses. I thought that was to blame…”
She relaxed slightly but still seemed unwilling to talk so I cleared my throat, determined to get answers.
“And then towards the end of second year…” I wavered as her concern deepened. “I started having a lot of strange thoughts.”
“Strange how?” She asked, leaning forward to clasp my hands.
“They were intrusive, coming out of nowhere and making me lose all concentration. They ranged from what we’d be served for dinner to what my grades might be, where my parents were and what they were doing, what our lessons might be on, what each student was currently doing with their time — it was exhausting and made me lose focus. It still does. The first time it surmounted to an unbearable high was in my third year, during Flying class.”
Her eyes widened as she recalled the incident. I had been in line to potentially be a beater for Ravenclaw, but my heart wasn’t in it. I had been at the top of my class and had mastered more difficult maneuvers, but suddenly, I lost my grip on my magic and plummeted to the ground. The distance should’ve killed me, and probably would have had Madame Hooch not spotted me crashing to the ground and softened my landing at the last second. I had still broken my arm and suffered a minor concussion, but I was otherwise unharmed. I spent three days in the Hospital Wing, and when asked about what happened, I blamed my magic, too afraid to admit the truth — that my mind was spiraling and my chest was tightening, keeping me from breathing.
“When you fell from that ridiculous height,” she swallowed and glanced around the room.
She leaned close, squeezing my hands tightly.
“There is nothing wrong with you. What you’re experiencing— it’s just, it—“
“It’s a symptom of having a Phoenix-feather wand core,” I surmised.
She blanched, “Yes. I cannot, I cannot tell you anymore. And before you ask, there is nothing in any of the libraries that will explain it to you. The materials were removed just before your first year.”
“What? Why?”
She shook her head. “I have already told you too much. But know I am on your side, whatever comes of it. I have no doubt you will know why soon enough. It seems that things are coming to a head, and not just for you.”
“Not just for me? Does it have to do with someone else also having a Phoenix feather wand?”
“What?” She stammered, blinking in surprise.
“I-I overheard someone saying there was someone else with a wand core like mine, from the same bird. My friend said Ollivander was even discussing the rareness of two being chosen within the same century when he thought her little brother was about to get one, too. He didn’t but—“
“Dear, it is time for you to get to class. Lest you be late.”
And just like that, I was shooed out of the wing. For the rest of the day, everyone was on edge. And by everyone, I meant all of Hogwarts. Snape had snapped at a first year for sneezing, and his outburst startled the class so severely that one student knocked over his cauldron, spilling the contents all over the Ravenclaw in front of him. It resulted in the entire classroom having to be fumigated, and any students nearby were sent to the Hospital Wing to be assessed for injuries.
In his second class, he dismissed three students for asking questions. In the third, four were sentenced to detention, and another fifteen points were deducted from Gryffindor for being noisy while taking notes.
People were terrified and dreading his class, and while I was grateful mine was at the end of the day, it didn’t make me feel any better that Fred and George would be present. He already despised those two, and they sat directly in front of me. I was shaking when I sat down, as the more I thought about his temper the more I wondered if it had any correlation to Hagrid telling me Snape would know about the wands. Was something wrong? Was I going to die just because I have a Phoenix wand? Did he know who had the other one? He had to know if he and Dumbledore had discussed it. As soon as Snape walked in, he took one glance at me and narrowed his eyes. He was silent as he strode up the aisle, and it heightened my anxiety, making that lid I fought so hard to keep shut crack just a little bit.
It was enough to disorient my thoughts, and as I trembled there in my seat, my mind whirling with the possibilities of what the wand meant, what he knew about it, if it had to do with his temper, why he smelled so incredible —
“Miss Hellstrand,” he hissed suddenly, snapping me out of my reverie and to full attention as he leveled me with a glower so deep I felt my lungs burn in response.
“Yes, Prof—“
“Get. Out. Now,” he enunciated carefully.
There was a brief murmur which silenced the second his gaze swept back over the room. Confused and afraid, I slowly began to pack my things, unable to help the chill that ran down my spine at the dark tone in his voice. What in Merlin’s name? Something slammed at the front of the classroom — a stack of books — and it startled me so badly that I jumped. A gasp escaped me as I scrambled out of the chair, growing increasingly nervous at the array of my supplies still sitting on the desk. My nerves were shot, especially after this morning, and I was five seconds away from bursting into tears at being dismissed for seemingly no good reason. Was I the cause of his anger? Was he acting this way because of me for some reason? That just seemed silly, I hadn’t done anything wrong. And if it did pertain to the wand, it was my right to know about it.
“Miss Hellstrand,” he all but growled when I stoppered my ink well.
I froze, feeling the cold seep through my robes but it was nothing compared to the icy glare he directed at me. I bit my lip, awaiting his judgement, and his expression distorted from that stoic one he always wore to that of pure hatred. Holy shit. He was going to kill me.
“Get. Out. Leave your things, I do not care but Get. Out. Of. My. Sight. Now.”
Intent on doing just that, I abandoned my belongings on the desk and shouldered my bag, sprinting from the room so quickly I nearly tripped four times in the process. Tears blurred my vision as pain radiated through my skull, the thoughts rushing around me like waves, dragging me down into their oppressive hell. I didn’t stop running until I reached my room, and I tossed my bag on the bed, immediately going to the shower. I sunk to the floor, feeling the panic attack finally overwhelm me even with the icy water pelting my skin. I couldn’t catch my breath, and then everything went black.
When I woke up, Celeste was sitting beside me on the bed, a frown etched into her warm, delicate features. I was in my bed, shrouded under blankets — and dry.
“What have you done?” She asked softly, brushing my hair out of my face.
“What?”
“Professor Snape walked out in the middle of the class you were meant to be in. I heard he had a rather impressive outburst at seeing you. Fred said he demanded you get out of his sight and not long after that he shattered a few beakers when he marched out, too. People thought he was going to find you and kill you.”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what his problem is,” I responded hoarsely, running my hands over my face.
She hummed, smiling teasingly. “Okay. Maybe transfer out of potions though?”
“I can’t do that if I want to be a professor,” I whined.
She nodded and sat back. “At any rate. Snape was dismissed and told to take the day off tomorrow, but he will supposedly be back by Thursday. Buckle up, Miss Hellstrand. It’s going to be a long year.”