First Impressions

For being a new student, Henry DeWitt was a little elusive in his goings. He was a wonderful student in the few classes Mirabel Garlick had him so far, asking questions where needed, working diligently, and paying a lovely amount of attention to the plants she showed him. However, she has noticed a few… odd habits about her new Gryffindor green thumb. Though she could only see so much in class, he was shaking like a sprout on a windy day, unsteady and unsure when he first entered. However, When given a task, Henry certainly opened up within himself and the world. Still a little sprout, but one on its way to unfathomable growth, she could tell(Mirabel had a foresight for these things, see). And since Mirabel was just as diligent in watching all her sprouts, the plant and student kind, she was sure to keep an eye on her newest.

Through the few classes she’d had the pleasure of having Henry, Mirabel noticed how dark his eyes may get in, hands waving and unsteady in what was surely sleep. She attempted to subtly question Leander(another one of her diligent green thumbs) about the boy during the sixth class; she had noticed the new fifth-year’s exhaustion and wondered if it was, perhaps, to do with the extra assignments. Ones that Henry was turning in with astounding speed and care.

“I… I’m not sure, Professor Garlick,” Leander admitted, his own eyes shifting towards where his fellow Gryffindor sat, plucking any unwanted visitors from his dittany pot(a plant she noticed he grew  very  often in her class when he had finished all else). “He doesn’t come to the Common Room very often other than to sleep, and even then… he makes himself scarce unless called upon- sent an owl, I mean. Wherever he goes when not in class, it’s not in usual student spots.”

“Thank you, Leander.” Smiling, Mirabel gave his shoulder a pat and nodded to where his chomping cabbage project was. “Why don’t you continue working on that project of yours? You’ve put many hours into it, and it’s going wonderfully.” As her student strode away, beaming from the praise(always eager to please, that one, Mirabel had no qualms giving her students the praise they had earned for their studies in her class), she considered what she’d been told.

It appeared Henry wasn’t very social, though she had seen him speak most often to the Slytherin boys Sebastian and Ominis. They seemed to get along well in a pod. That was good; students needed a support system when navigating the world, even one as wonderful as wizarding.

Her attention being pulled away had disrupted her thoughts. Still, Mirabel watched Henry gently harvest his dittany and plant  more . Was there an extra assignment he was doing for Aesop? She resolved to ask him the next time she caught him. For now, she was answering Lenora’s questions about leaping toadstools.

❈✢❈

In her seventh class with Henry, Mirabel noticed his hair curtaining most of his face - more eyebags, perhaps? He kept to himself very closely, only allowing Sebastian near, who almost looked to be taking guard of the Gryffindor boy. The worry blossomed in Mirabel’s mind, keeping her eyes sharp on the boy as he left, Sebastian on his heels, as soon as class ended.

In her ninth class with Henry, the boy had trembling fingers as she taught him how to harvest leaping toadstools, the loose limbs bouncing as much as the toadstools themselves. He had smiled tightly and said he was restless; it was simply unchecked energy. She offered his next assignment if he wanted to get the energy out, but she assured him it was no rush if he wasn’t up to it at the time(and she suspected he was really not up to it).

Henry took the assignment anyway with an assiduous nod, his expression full of thought as he looked the sheet over. 

In her tenth class with Henry, he had a limp in his step, favoring his left leg. When she tried to approach him about it, the boy only smiled, eyes wide in surprise, and assured her he missed a step on the stairs. She accepted the answer after offering him a wiggenweld on hand(as she always tried to have one in class just in case  anything  happened to her sprouts). He took the potion and smiled a little more, looking less pale than he did before as he handed her the empty bottle, standing sturdier than he had upon coming in. “Thank you, Professor. This place has a great many stairs, and even when I’m not running down them to get somewhere, my ankle manages to snap to the side.” She winced, knowing the feeling. Having an ankle roll like that was always troublesome.

“Well, while I’m not sure it’s a good idea to run downstairs any day, I’d advise you to go to the hospital wing just to ensure everything is right as daisies.” A more substantial concern than before struck through her chest when the boy’s expression shuttered, a crooked smile still fighting to remain on his face as his shoulders jerked in a nearly imperceptible wince. It was the same body language Sirona had whenever anyone called her by the wrong title or other unsavory things that Mirabel considered putting a small chomping cabbage in their bag. “Are you alright, love?” She inquired, and a hand reached out.

Henry stepped back, nodding, “Yes, Professor, I just-.” He looked at a loss for words, eyes shifting around the room before blinking and looking back to her. “I just- I remembered something unpleasant. I’m fine; it just caught me off-guard, is all.” As soon as he had an explanation, the words flowed easily, and his expression cleared a bit. “I’m gonna head to the hospital wing now if that’s alright, like you said.” She nodded a little, eyeing him with as reassuring of a smile as she could.

“Good. Do you need anyone to see you there?” Henry opened his mouth, and she already suspected a refusal when Sebastian appeared, an arm wrapped around Henry’s shoulders, matching a grin.

“I’ll take ’im, Professor M! Can’t trust Henry not to trip on more stairs on the way up there.” Henry’s nose scrunched when Sebastian squeezed his shoulder, tugging the tall boy close. Mirabel wondered if Henry wasn’t very welcoming of physical contact.

“Sebastian, you can’t trip  up  a stair-.”

“My friend, you would find a way to do so,” Sebastian gave Henry a pat.

“Well, boys, happy travels,” Mirabel smiled gently at the duo as Sebastian led Henry out of the class, murmuring to him in a way that had Henry nodding. Mirabel pursed her lips as the door swung shut, wondering if that was the right decision. She truly trusted Sebastian with his friends. The boy had shown to be very… passionate regarding those in his close company, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was, most likely, something going on with Henry. She had seen tired students, but the year had only started a couple of weeks ago! Perhaps he was having trouble mingling properly with the other students? Those in his house certainly didn’t know much of him.

She continued with her class, but Sebastian and Henry remained on her mind - an odd duo, if any, and perhaps with good reason to worry.

When she questioned Aesop, he informed her that, no, there weren’t any assignments of his that required a large amount of dittany. When he’d asked her why she was inquiring, she considered bringing Henry up. If anyone were to pick up on odd behavior among the students, it would undoubtedly be Professor Sharp. While she didn’t mention Henry, she still may when they next cross paths. It would confirm if her worries were valid or if she was as much of a mothering hen as Sirona sometimes accused her of being.

Sirona... Perhaps a visit to her dear friend after school hours was in order. It was the weekend tomorrow, after all. While she had some grading to do, it wouldn’t take very long as they were mostly inspections of how the students’ personal projects were going.

Yes,  Mirabel thought to herself as she dismissed the class, hands clasped in front of her,  I’ll speak with Sirona.

❈✢❈

As soon as she entered the Three Broomsticks, Mirabel was swayed by its warm atmosphere and tingling nostalgia. Memories of childhood wisped in her mind: celebrating good scores with a butterbeer, hanging out after a hard week of classes, or catching up with friends when needed. Though the place had changed slightly, Sirona’s own touch added when she picked it up made the restaurant more homey to Mirabel.

Spotting her dear friend wiping a nearby table down, Mirabel couldn’t help but smile.

Sirona was always a welcoming sight. Her presence had always been calming and sturdy.

When Sirona turned, a smile split across her face when she made eye contact with Mirabel, tucking the damp rag into her apron pocket.

“Mira, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Nothing more than your companionship, Sirona,” she replied, taking a seat at the just-wiped-down table when Sirona gestured for her to. She returned shortly with a couple of mugs, sitting across from the Herbology professor. “Though I was wondering if I could have your unbiased opinion on something.”

“If it has to do with teaching…” Sirona began, eyes tracking the students that sat around the Three Broomsticks, no doubt enjoying Hogsmeade outside of classes for the off-days. “You know I’m not going to be much help.” Mirabel nodded slightly to the side, removing her green hat and placing it on the table next to her.

“Yes, well, it’s not quite teaching  exactly , but there is a particular student of mine that I… worry about.” At Sirona’s raised eyebrow, Mirabel was quick to fill in. “And yes, yes, I know I worry much!” Her friend chuckled momentarily, chin tilted downward like the expression was meant to be private.

“I know, I know. Let me hear it, then. What are your concerns?”

As Mirabel settled in fully and explained what she had been noticing with her Gryffindor student, she studied Sirona’s expression. She mentioned her theories about possibly overworking the boy with the extra assignments to catch him up and how sensitive he seemed. Just as she was outlining the most recent incident with the hurt ankle and the guarded behavior, Sirona had a furrow in her brow that meant she was deeply thinking something over. To which Mirabel took this moment to slow her explanation and await her friend’s answer.

“This student of yours…” Sirona began, fingers shifting around her half-empty mug of butterbeer, one of her ticks of perplexity. “Is he a tall boy? Shoulder-length hair? Keep to himself? Looks like a gust of wind could just about blow him over? Hang out with Sebastian Sallow?" He came in with a broken ankle last night. Mirabel’s eyes widened, and she nodded to each check on Sirona’s list of inquiries. "He came in with a broken ankle yesterday."

“Henry?” she asked, but there was no doubt it was him Sirona was talking about. Mirabel then pressed an anxious hand to her cheek. A broken bone? "He said it was only sprained. I’m afraid I don’t follow, Sirona.” The bartender sighed and stood, holding a hand up when the last patron called ‘goodbye.’ As she began to clean up the place, which made sense considering she was still on the job, Sirona spoke up to continue the conversation.

“Well,” Sirona hummed, gathering mugs from the tables and setting them on the bar, “from what I know of that boy, he’s a bit of a trouble magnet, not to his fault, I’m assuming. But anytime I’ve seen him, he’s here with some bump or scrape or another, and I…” She trailed off in her explanation, pausing to consider something. Mirabel let her do so, digesting the words she’d already shared.

Henry? A trouble magnet? The boy didn’t seem the least bit mischievous, sans spending so much time with Sebastian Sallow, but Sebastian seemed nothing but caring for his friend and Henry… Mirabel sensed he was much more level-headed than what his nerves often exuded. Gryffindor or not, it seemed unlikely the boy would search for any trouble. But then again, Sirona did say it wasn’t any fault of his own. Was he perhaps being bothered by other students? She’d heard a mention from other students that Henry had a bit of a Chinese Chomper to a couple of unruly Slytherins in Beasts Class.  Things weren’t connecting, and it was beginning to worry Mirabel as she worked through the possibilities of what was left for Henry. She didn’t know much about his home life; was it, perhaps, unhealthy?

Sirona pulled her from her own thoughts as she spoke once more.

“I say this because you are my friend, Mira, and I worry for that boy.” The way this conversation began, Mirabel wasn’t sure she was like what she was about to hear. As a teacher or caretaker. “When he first came into my shop, it was after the troll attack with Sebastian.” Yes, she remembered being beside herself with concern when students returned from their Hogsmeade trips, trembling like loose leaves as they recounted the attack. But there was one thing that stood out among the chatter and rumor.

“Yes, I recall hearing something about the boys taking down a troll on their own?” Sirona agreed sagely, wiping down mugs and settling the clean ones to the side as she went.

“Something like that. See, when the first troll came, we assumed it was the only one, so we led it away from the town, only to come back to another one lying dead on the cobblestone. Sebastian and Henry had killed it, but Sebastian was singing Henry’s praises when they entered my pub, saying he brought it down on his own.”

“On his own?” Mirabel inquired uneasily. It was hard to believe, truly. The boy who stood in the corner of her class kept to himself and shook like a leaf when too much attention was on him? He took down a troll single handedly?

And yet… and yet there was something there that didn’t surprise Mirabel Garlick as much as she hoped. As his teacher, she could see it there in Henry and Sebastian. The ability to defend with strength and powerful magic. Those boys would go far, she knew.

“I know,” Sirona placed the last mug down on a towel to dry, wiping her hands off with a clean rag. “I found it hard to believe, especially when the said toll-killer was having a hard time making eye contact with me because he forgot to say ‘please’ for the drink I already said was on the house. Sebastian was already halfway finished with his.” Mirabel found a laugh rising from her chest at the image. It did sound like them. “But this is where things got odd,” Sirona drew the conversation back to its core. She was good at that, Sirona; the number of times Mirabel could go off-topic, jumping from thought to thought like an over-energetic leaping toadstool, and Sirona would pull her back.

“Odd? As in strange? Or worrisome?”

“Both,” Sirona nodded as she said the word, returning to the table Mirabel had been sitting at. With her, she brought a scent of something sweet and airy. Being around all that butterbeer, certainly. “Victor Rookwood came in here, asking about the boy.” All humor and lightheartedness fled the conversation the moment the name was breathed into the air. It ran from them, and anxiety rushed in to fill the space. “Wouldn’t take no for an answer, but then again,” Sirona leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest, “when do those types ever? Now, I have no problems defending that boy from a rat like Rookwood, but the issue is that Rookwood has an interest in him.” Mirabel found herself nodding along and agreeing with every word.

This was much worse than she’d figured initially.

“Have there been any other incidents like this, Sirona?”

“None that I know of, but Henry came in here yesterday afternoon with a broken ankle and a lack of wiggenweld potions. Stiffened right up the moment I mentioned it.” The air between them was tense with the possibilities of what was going on with the newly introduced fifth year. From what Mirabel knew of Henry, he wouldn’t easily tell her if she asked. Should she bring this to Professor Weasley? Certainly not Headmaster Black; the man was a buffoon, and all of the staff could see that.

But Victor Rookwood was not known for simply harassing the locals about poaching and illegal work. He was a mercenary with his own agenda, working with poachers for money and with anyone else for his own benefit. If he had an interest in Henry, there was nothing good at play, and Mirabel was only making assumptions here; there was a heavy possibility something else was involved. 

“I… I’m not sure I like the conclusions I’m coming to about this situation,” Mirabel confessed, allowing Sirona to pull the empty mug from her grasp as she leaned forward to grab Mirabel’s attention.

“Neither do I,” she spoke quietly, a sincere note flooding her tone. “Look out for Henry in the castle, Mira, I’ve made it my personal mission to keep an eye for him at Hogsmeade. The air is tense, and I truly don’t believe that boy intends for the trouble to follow him as it does.” The fierce defense in Sirona’s voice had a rising affection for her that Mirabel could never dismiss. She couldn’t help but allow the confidence from her friend to flood into her chest.

Mirabel nodded firmly.

“Yes, I’ll most likely speak with him after class tomorrow and Aesop as well; I’m sure he’s picked up on some of Henry’s worrisome habits, being what he is.” Mirabel stood, as though she had the intention to do so right at this moment(maybe she did. Perhaps speaking with Professor Sharp before Henry would paint a clearer picture. They could compare notes). Sirona chuckled and reached out to Mirabel as the Herbology Professor rounded the table, gathering her things.

Mirabel gladly drew in the embrace of her dearest friend, feeling a tentacula-sized weight fall from her shoulders and her mind. Her fears were not unfounded, and while they seemed worse, she at least knew others were noticing enough to make a difference. The idea only made her squeeze Sirona for a moment longer before they released one another. Sirona gave Mirabel’s shoulder a pat as she pulled her hat on, preparing to return to the castle.

“I’m going to speak with Aesop now; I sent Henry and Sebastian to the hospital wing for his spra- uhm, his ankle earlier and I can say I’m very glad I did.” Sirona nodded along, and Mirabel squeezed her hands one more squeeze for confidence as she left.

“Good luck speaking with our young friend,” Sirona said in farewell, “stubborn, that one.”  We’ll just see about that,  Mirabel considered to herself. Henry was stubborn, most likely, all Gryffindors were(in her experience), but Mirabel was sure nothing but a warm cup of tea and a calm atmosphere would help her in getting an explanation.

As she made her way back to the castle, Mirabel realized something about what Sirona said earlier, as her hand was always near her wand.

The air  was  tense, and there was a spore-like anticipation that held Mirabel in the understanding that not all was well with the world.

As much as she found herself very fond of Henry, as with all her students, she was a caretaker and teacher first. Which meant a conversation with Aesop(and most likely Professor Fig) was in order. Henry may not say anything at all about the events Mirabel spoke of with Sirona, and this may lead nowhere, but that wouldn’t stop her from keeping an eye on her sprouts(this one in particular).