Meraki

Prologue 2: Charmolip

“Hi.”

Dark eyes look up at her from where the young boy is crouching behind a table stacked with books in Flourish & Blotts.

“Why are ya hiding?”

The boy shushes her, “Not so loud!” Yet he is speaking on the same volume as she is. Avior grins and crouches down next to him. “Why are we hiding?” She repeats, now whispering.

“Who are you?” He asks in return, frowning at the odd accent coming from the girl with crazy hair, dimpled smile, and different coloured eyes. “Avior,” she says, “and you?”

“Theodore. Do you see a man inside?”

Avior giggles at the question. “My papa is inside, ouais, and the owner of the shop.” The boy rolls his eyes.

“I mean my father,” he clarifies, but she is already shaking her head, making her curls bounce around. “There are no other men, non… Can we be friends?”

Even hours later, when already back home, Avior is still telling her father about the boy she met who is now her friend. Theodore and Avior become great friends over time. She writes him letters and he writes them back. She calls him Teddy and he calls her Ava. His father won’t let him come over and neither does he want her coming to visit his son, so the two friends are stuck waiting on their time to start as first years.

Avior almost cries when they see Juliette off to Hogwarts, unable to bear the thought of not being able to see her sister for months on end. She nearly sneaks onto the train when no one is looking, but Remus grabs her much smaller hand before she can.

“Be a Gryffindor!” Avior yells as the train starts up, waving frantically with tear tracks shining on her cheeks.
Juliette Greengrass does turn out to be a Gryffindor, to her mother’s surprise who had been in Slytherin along with her husband. Lorelei was overjoyed and a proud mother in every way. While Avior was only getting more excited to be sorted herself, into the same House as her sister. They could continue to be close after all. They could still have sleepovers in their House, study together, and eat in the Great Hall together.

Avior’s first year comes as a major disappointment.
It was her own choice to keep both last names. Remus had suggested removing the latter part of it, afraid that she might not be able to fit in because of it, but she insisted on keeping her name as it is. Lupin-Black is her name that has nothing to do with a mass murderer. Unfortunately not everyone thinks the way she does.

The raven haired girl has been looking forward to starting at Hogwarts for a long time now, especially once Juliette had started the year prior. She walks next to Theodore Nott with her eyes glued to the Great Hall’s charmed ceiling, Theodore holding onto her arm so she doesn’t walk into anyone. Avior then averts her gaze to the Gryffindor table where she’ll surely be sitting in a moment, too. Juliette waves once her eyes lock with Avior’s and the first year waves back.

“You promise we’ll still be friends even if I’m in Slytherin and you in Gryffindor?” Theodore whispers in her ear, pulling her attention away from Juliette. “Of course, Teddy, je promets,” Avior whispers back with a smile that lights up her eyes and an accent impossible to miss. “We are best friends.”
Professor McGonagall silences everyone and sets the stool down with the Sorting Hat on it. Its mouth opens and it starts to sing.

Avior might be the student to clap the loudest once the song is over, quickly stopping when McGonagall’s piercing eyes catch onto her. The Professor looks at her a moment longer, finding it very hard to miss the resemblance to two—even three—old students of hers. She rolls out the list of first years in her hands and there it is indeed. Lupin-Black.

“Alastair, Roman!” She calls out the first student. A boy with messy blonde hair and soft eyes separates himself from the group of first years and walks up to the stool to sit down. “Ravenclaw!”
Cheers erupt from the Ravenclaw table as Alastair moves to join them. Theodore watches him walk, knowing that in a few minutes, he’ll be taking the same path but to a different table.

“Chance, Tristan!” Other names are called, more cheering from different tables, until it is Avior’s turn.

“Lupin-Black, Avior!” For a second, the Great Hall becomes dead silent before whispers break out, so loud yet so quiet that it sounds like humming. But she can make out certain voices as she walks past.

“Black? Is she related to Sirius Black?”

“Like the Death Eater?”

All she can do is raise her chin up high and tune those words out, no matter how deep they dig along with the countless eyes burning into her. She takes a seat on the stool and Professor McGonagall places the Hat on her head, which drops to cover her eyes. At least that way she won’t have to see the shocked and condescending looks thrown her way.

“A Lupin-Black? Interesting combination, with traits from both parties.”

Avior scrunches her nose with disdain. She knows why her father is in Azkaban — which is the reason she never acknowledges him as her father in the first place. I’m not like him, she thinks to herself and the Sorting Hat all the same.

“It is in your blood. As is the cunningness you have inherited from your family, along with your talent for trouble… your immense power. I detect a daring soul, though stubborn. Strong willed and, dare I say, arrogant.”

I’m not arrogant! And not stubborn, either. You’ve got it all wrong, you silly hat. Avior fights the urge to turn around and tell McGonagall to pick her a House already, but she remains patient. For once.

“I must say, I am torn between two, but I think you would do well in both. Perhaps…”

“Slytherin!” Avior’s jaw nearly drops, but she quickly schools her expression as the Hat is lifted off of her head. The Slytherin table is cheering, though not as loud as for the other students, but the loudest cheers come from an entirely different table. It’s Juliette, amongst her House mates, at the table of the Gryffindors. But that is where Avior was supposed to go, too. She looks down at her robes and tie as she makes her way to the Slytherins, seeing that they have already changed to the green and silver combination. Her stomach turns as she tries to imagine what her father will think. He was a Gryffindor, they had both expected her to be one as well. But now she’s sitting down with the House of the Snakes. Perhaps the only good thing about it is when Theodore is sorted into Slytherin a minute later and claims the spot next to her at the table.

“How?” Is all he manages to say. “I swear, I thought you were going to be in Gryffindor!” Avior doesn’t say anything and Theodore doesn’t need more to understand what’s going on. “Hey,” he gently nudges her side while the last students get sorted, “your father will be proud of you either way.” He gives her a small smile, secretly dying for a father like hers.

“Je ne m— I just… didn’t expect this,” she whispers, her disappointment having her slip back into French subconsciously.

“At least you’re with me,” Theodore flashes her a boyish grin and it finally makes her crack out a smile.

The next morning proves to be worse. Whispers follow her wherever she goes. Sometimes they aren’t whispers, but comments loud enough and made for her to hear. Each one bleeds into another as her first year passes by and Avior pretends to be unaffected by it — which she usually is, until she gets in bed at night and the realisation comes down on her all over again. Her roommates don’t talk to her, some of them give her weird looks. It took Avior almost two weeks until Theodore and Juliette could convince her to write to her father and tell him that she was sorted into Slytherin. The only highlight amongst the unexpected anxiety of being at Hogwarts is his reply, stating how proud he is and that a little diversity in the family can do no harm.
Many days pass with Avior watching Juliette from a distance, surrounded with friends and students that adore her. Sometimes that distance feels to be a large chasm sitting between them, separating the two girls that have always been sisters. She can’t help but feel jealous, envious, and above all; afraid. Juliette might forget about her. Her friends are of her own age, they share classes together and probably have more in common, too. On the other hand, Avior only has Theodore. He has stuck by her side through every snide remark and each nasty comment. He makes it easier for her to continue holding her chin up high. Even if she can’t, he helps her pretend.

Although her list of future prank victims grows with each week, getting caught by Fred and George Weasley while setting up a string of Dungbombs brings an unexpected friendship — or two.

“What do we have here?” One of the two pipes up. She can’t quite tell the difference between them.

“Nothing!” She glares at them, but they both grin in response.

“You have quite the reputation—”
It doesn’t matter which twin it is. He gets a punch in the stomach either way. Avior has more strength than she seems to have at first sight, making him double over and clutch his stomach with a groan. His twin brother bursts out laughing. “Brilliant!”

To her utmost surprise, the Weasley twins start to seek her out more often after that. She realises that she might have taken the comment entirely the wrong way, but the two boys can only joke about it. It turns out that she hit Fred and that George will never let him live it down. There is almost not a day that goes by without it being mentioned.

Christmas comes around and that means Avior finally seeing her father again. Her bright eyes search every single face until she finds the right one.

“Teddy, come!” She calls out for her best friend to follow as she rushes towards her father, dragging her trunk along.

“Papa!” At the last moment, she lets go of her trunk and nearly tackles Remus into a hug. He catches her, smiling widely at the sight and presence of his little girl.

“How I’ve missed your hugs,” he softly says and squeezes her just a little tighter like she always does. When they finally pull away, Theodore is standing next to them and he holds his hand out.

“Theodore Nott.”
Remus pauses. His daughter had not once mentioned his last name during all the times she would talk about her friend. The son of a Death Eater.
A particular face comes forward in his mind. One that has been haunting him for years now, not because of what he looks like, but because of what he’s done. If he were to judge Theodore for his father’s actions, it would only be fair to do the same to his daughter. He doesn’t, and that’s the thing. The fair thing to do is not to judge an innocent child by the choices of their parent. Remus takes the boy’s hand and shakes it.

“Remus. My daughter has told me a great deal about you,” he says, glancing sideways at Avior whose smile can light up more than the sun does. “Bien sûr, he is my best friend!” She wraps an arm around his shoulders and he wraps his around her waist in return, both smiling giddily up at Remus.

Theodore gets a first glimpse of what a father should be like that Christmas. He gets a taste of family, and he decides he will never let go.
Avior gets a small black kitten, whom she names Nyx, after the Goddess and personification of the Night.
She turns out to be the one gift she needed; a forever companion.

Even as Avior grows, getting to her second year in Hogwarts, Nyx stays small. It is one of the many things she adores about the little cat. Remus reveals that he picked her because she looks like what Avior would be like as a cat; black fur and green eyes.

In her second year, she finally gets onto the Slytherin Quidditch team, which she had been ranting about joining ever since her first day. Theodore was on the verge of losing his hearing, but that is what best friends are for. She would never fail to remind him that, and he is the loudest to cheer when she makes the team as a chaser.

One pair of feet swinging back and forth under a bench, another pair hanging still next to them. Avior smiles brightly at her friend, Tristan Chance, hands tucked under her thighs. He is one of the few decent students who don’t have anything against her happening to be related to an Azkaban prisoner. She sure does hope he considers her his friend, too. Though if the countless times hanging out together outside of Quidditch training and class is anything to go by, she thinks she is right in her assumption.
After her having gone through yet another intensive training in the spring sun, the two decided to meet at their usual spot outside again, once she freshened up. It is just a bench to anyone else, but it is a lucky one to Avior. The first time they decided to sit here, she noticed how it was the third bench along the path they descended upon from the castle, and luckier than that it can’t be.

“Have ya finished Snape’s essay on the Wiggenweld Potion yet?” Avior asks cheerfully. “If not, I can help! I have mine finished, so if ya’d like to copy off of it.” She grants him a cheeky grin, which hasn’t lost its childish air just yet, despite her officially being a teenager now. Tristan smiles in return.

“I’m almost finished with it, but it wouldn’t hurt to read yours, see if I’m missing anything important,” he replies and she is more than happy to agree. Silence falls over them for a mere two seconds before Avior’s tirelessly working mind comes up with a new subject to speak on. “Off topic — Well, not entirely, because I was told in Potions, but did you know two others in our year have had their first kiss already?” The question comes out as if the sheer amount of two is difficult to wrap her head around. Her eyes are big, filled with an innocent curiosity.

“Who?” Tristan asks eagerly, name after name flashing through his mind as he tries to make any guesses. But he is met with a shrug. “Aucune idée.” Tristan is long used to the occasional French from the curly haired girl and he is confident that he knows what it means either way.

“So it’s not you?” Avior looks at him, they are about the same height, but that is bound to change in the upcoming years. This time he shakes his head and she glances at a bypassing student.

“I haven’t had mine yet,” she says, sparing him the need to ask. Her bright eyes find him again. “Do you want to be my first kiss?” Is she even supposed to ask such a question? Or does it just… happen? She isn’t sure and she finds that she does not care either, she will do it her own way.

Though the question still catches him off guard, shock crosses his eyes before it settles. “Yes,” he answers a beat later. The opportunity to have his first kiss has quite literally presented itself and he doesn’t mind it being Avior. She perks up at what is about to happen, eager and curious, but a little nervous now, too.

“So, what do I do?” They both turn on the bench to face the other, each with a leg bent at the knee on it in between them, pressed against one another. It is a stupid question; Tristan hasn’t kissed anyone yet either. She realises this again a second after and decides to just go for it. Her hands are placed on his shoulders and she leans in. Tristan copies her, hesitating for a split second in deciding where to put his own hands before they settle on her waist, and he meets her to close the distance between them. They share a short kiss, a simple peck on the lips, and pull back.

“Like that, right?” Avior asks, always so eager for any sign that she did well, and the ever present blush on her cheeks is darkening, but she isn’t the only one whose cheeks flush rosy. She grins under the blush, proud to be able to say that she has had her first kiss as well now.

Juliette was surprised when she told her about her first kiss. “But you guys are friends?” She had said to her in French and Avior nodded excitedly. Tristan was a great friend indeed.

The identical Weasley boys told her how their little brother, Ron, is friends with Harry Potter. She listened with great interest. Being friends with The Boy Who Lived is like being friends with a celebrity she wrote in a letter to her father. But when she tried to talk to him out of sheer curiosity, Ron was the one to pull his friend away, whispering about her coming from a bad family, ‘one like the Malfoys’. He was her next victim of a prank the day after, having walked around with a Slytherin uniform the entire day until it was finally pointed out to him, and instantly became her least favourite Weasley.

Avior takes up unofficial classes with Poppy Pomfrey in Healing. From her first few weeks of being at Hogwarts, the Healer has seen the young girl more times than she can count even if she had ten pairs of hands. Clumsiness to working with Hagrid and his creatures to now also Quidditch, Avior hurts herself a lot.
It started as a spontaneous question, “Can you teach me that?”, when Pomfrey had been healing a nasty cut on her hand.

She is not the only member of staff to see Avior more than needed. Snape was particularly disgruntled when she came to him, asking for more Potions work. To his surprise, she had already finished more than her peers in his class. He gave her a rather difficult potion to brew—a Draught of Peace—for her to prove herself worthy of his time. And she succeeded.

Nyx stayed small throughout Avior’s third year.
When the Chamber of Secrets was opened again, the same students that would call her a murderer in hushed whispers started theorising that she was Salazar Slytherin’s descendant. “Stupide”, she had grumbled under her breath to Theodore when a first year student got scared as she made eye contact with him in the Great Hall.

“It is not like I’m Medusa,” she huffed, mindlessly carving into the table with a knife to release her frustrations somehow. She looked up when Theodore placed his hand on top of hers. He had started to grow taller than her and she was starting to notice more about him than she should. They would kiss for the first time later that day in a game of Truth or Dare where he dares her to kiss him. She ran to tell Juliette the next day, but emphasised that it was just a game.

Harry Potter saves the day again towards the end of the school year. Father and daughter are reunited once more, but the next term they won’t be going separate ways.

“I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor next year,” Remus breaks the news to her and Avior can’t hold back a squeal of excitement.

“C’est parfait, Papa!”

Her fourth year does not prove to be as promising as she expected with this news.