Meraki

Chapter 2: Cacophony

The Hogwarts Express, scarlet and puffing smoke over Platform 9 ¾, is almost ready to depart for yet another year. Remus first helps his daughter get her luggage onto the train, stowing her trunk and Nyx’s carrier onto the luggage rack.

“You ought to see your friends again. I’ll see you upon arrival,” Remus says to her last before they part ways. She was hesitant to leave him be, looking alone after the Full Moon of only two nights ago. Yet he insisted. The young girl goes on the search for Theodore, pushing past students saying goodbye to their family. It isn’t long before she starts being noticed and recognised. After her first year, the comments started to die down a little. It was a shock for one of the new students to be related to Sirius and Regulus Black. The majority doesn’t bother acknowledging her existence now. But now with the mass murderer Black on the loose, she is suddenly a topic of interest again— or rather disinterest, in the way they scramble to distance themselves from her and pointedly look away, while talking about her at a volume high enough for her to make out the words. It feels like her first year again, and even worse.
It is almost time for the Hogwarts Express to leave and she hasn’t found the familiar dark eyes again, but she does run into a group of people all with the same red hair, apart from two of them.

“We should go,” Ron says when he sees her.

“Oh don’t wet your pants, Ronniekins.” Fred grins, nudging his younger brother in the side with his elbow. “Maybe she will murder you if you look at her the wrong way.”

Avior crosses her arms over her chest. “Fred, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oi! She can tell us apart now!” George exclaims, hand on his heart.

“Of course I can,” she says with faux-indignation, “I will always remember which one of the two I punched.”

“She punched one of you?” Ron’s eyes nearly roll out of his head with how wide they suddenly are, his caution around her for a moment forgotten. Fred shakes his head at her.

“I knew you would expose me one day,” he sighs. Avior gives a nonchalant shrug. “Deserved.”

“Ava!” She spins around at the sound of her very best friend’s voice. Fred opens his mouth to get her attention again, but she is already walking away when she sees Theodore, waiting with his boyish grin and the leather jacket on that he got only a few weeks ago and has been obsessed with. Her smile is back at once and she steps toward him, taking his hand. “Come on!”
They quickly find an empty compartment for the journey and sit down.

“I am so excited to have my papa at school, too,” she says, beaming, and she promptly lays down on the seat beside Theodore, placing her head on his lap. “He’ll be an exceptional teacher.”

“I’m sure he’s just as excited to not have to miss you throughout the year this time,” Theodore answers, his hands itching to touch her curls which always look so soft, it’s nearly irresistible.

She reaches up to pull on his jacket. “I’ll be stealing this by the way.”

He scowls in response, “I wouldn’t be surprised. You are a thief.” There is no indication, however, that he would mind her stealing it.

“Now that you’ve given me that title I have no choice but to live up to it.”

Theodore gets them both something from the witch with the trolley when she comes by, even when Avior insisted that she didn’t want anything. Though a few minutes later she sits nibbling on a Cauldron Cake.
At some point during the train ride, Blaise Zabini comes to chat with them for a moment before he leaves again. Other students and friends pass by the door of their compartment many times, with a few stopping as well; Juliette, Graham Montague, and Tristan Chance.

“Excited for Quidditch this year?” Graham nudges her side once he’s lowered himself into the spot the opposite side of her from Theodore. “Is that even a question?” Avior grins.

“You will bring it home for us this year, right?” Theodore butts himself into the conversation with a smile of his own. “I’m a cheerleader this year, y’know?”

“Oh?” Graham quirks a brow. “Is that new?”

“Just for Teddy,” Avior says, chuckling. “Just for Ava,” he adds, “I only cheer for her.” Graham’s eyes flit between the two younger students for a moment before he gets up.

“Only for her, huh?” He nods slowly. “Makes perfect sense.” Before he turns around to leave, he winks at Avior and pulls the compartment door open to stand face to face with Juliette. Avior can only just see the blush forming on one side of his face and there is no doubt that the other cheek looks the same.

“Bye, Montague!” Avior forces him out of the compartment and pulls Juliette inside.

“Hi, Jules,” he rushes the words before the moment of eye contact passes. “Graham,” Juliette smiles her golden smile, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Avior waits for him to disappear out of sight and shuts the door harshly. “I totally just saw him blush because of you.”

When they are hours into the journey, Avior decides to go look for her father and keep him company for a while despite his instance on the station, but she finds him asleep in a compartment with Harry Potter and his two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Hermione has never particularly said or done anything towards Avior, but Ron always steers Harry far away from her. So she scowls at the redhead and departs again to tell Theodore all about his stupid face and the stupid rat he always carries around.

“I don’t mind rats at all,” she says, “but his is just ugly and annoying and dumb. I can tell.” Theodore laughs exuberantly at her irritation.

“He really does get to you, huh?” He asks, his jacket crinkling as he moves. It catches her attention. “Can I put your jacket on?” Before he can answer, they both feel the train start slowing down and look up, through the window.

“That went by quickly,” Theodore states, getting up while she checks her battered watch. The sound of the rain and wind get louder and louder as the train moves slower and slower.

“Non, we can’t be there yet.” Their eyes meet in confusion and she then moves to pull their compartment door open. Many more students have the same idea as she only sees a bunch of confused and curious heads sticking out of the doors. The train suddenly jolts, followed by loud thuds of luggage falling and Avior nearly tripping backwards on her own feet.

“What’s going on?” Theodore questions out loud, coming up beside her. The next moment all the lights flicker and go out. She feels his hand close around her arm and pulls her back. “Ow!” He hisses when she steps on his foot.

“Your fault,” she mutters in response, “for pulling me.” She pushes him back towards the seat to sit down, already taking her wand from her inner pocket of her cloak. “I’ll go look,” Avior says, then mutters, “Lumos.”
Her breath falters at the sight of a large cloaked figure right in front of their compartment’s door. It reaches the ceiling and she suddenly feels all aware of a biting cold when the figure draws a long, ragged breath. The cold seeps into her skin, then even deeper into her bones and her very being. Theodore’s hand squeezes around her arm. That is when she finally comes into action.

“Look at me!” Avior squeals as she darts around on her kid’s broom in the backyard of their home in France.

“You’re a star, Ivy!” She catches a glimpse of her father’s bright smile; a star on its own. It shines and lights up the entirety of the world more than the sun does. At least to her, because her father is her world.

“Expecto Patronum!” A silver light shoots out of her wand, taking the form of an occamy which flies right into the dementor, chasing it away as it rushes to leave and escape the Patronus’s warm light. Theodore’s grip on her arm eases and when she turns to look at him with a smile —not nearly as bright as her father’s or the Patronus’s light conjured from that memory— his mouth is agape.

“I didn’t know you could conjure a corporeal Patronus!” He exclaims rather loudly, his indignation clear in his voice. She chuckles when he glares down at her, muttering, “Show off.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you would have died,” she responds dramatically, putting her wand away once more.

“Why was there a dementor on the train anyway?” Theodore drops back into his seat.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “but I have a feeling it has to do with an escaped prisoner.”
Her Patronus functions as their source of light while they sit back down and wait, until the train’s lights turn back on and it slowly starts up again. Avior raises her wand in an instant when the door slides open, but it is her father this time.

“Are you okay?” He asks rapidly, a concerned crease between his brows. She jumps up to embrace him. “Papa! You should have seen my Patronus! You would have been so proud!” He looks over his daughter’s curls at Theodore who smiles at the back of her head.

“It’s true! It was a cool creature!” The boy adds with just as much enthusiasm. “An occamy,” Avior adds, pulling back with her heart thumping excitedly behind her ribs.

“I am proud of you,” Remus smiles and brushes a strand of her black hair out of her face. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. I need to speak to the driver now.”

Students rush to get out once they arrive at Hogsmeade station. Chattering, owls hooting and cats meowing create a cacophony of noises. Avior takes Nyx out of her carrier and holds her curled up against her chest under her robe. Hagrid’s booming voice calls the first years over while the rest of the students move in a mass of Hogwarts robes off the platform. Theodore and Avior are automatically pulled along, but they remain inseparable by his grip on the side of her robe.

“Almost there,” she whispers to the bulge on her chest and Nyx meows in response. There are moments where Avior is convinced that the little cat can understand her, which she never fails to mention to her father and few friends.

“Eve! Theo!” Tristan Chance waves her and Theodore over from one of the carriages waiting to be filled before it departs all on its own without the use of any horses or creatures. Students ahead of her glance over their shoulder to see who he is calling for and most of their faces either drop in fear or contort with disgust. Avior raises her chin a tad higher and walks right past them with Theodore to join their fellow housemate in the carriage, lined up with dozens of others.

“How was your summer?” Avior asks him with a glowing smile. The three fall into a conversation about their summer, the upcoming term and the dementors on the train. There is one topic they avoid, even as they talk about the guards of Azkaban. Both boys don’t want to upset her, though neither of them associate her with Sirius Black in any way. They might share a name, but that is it. She doesn’t share his mindset or his decisions in life. That, she would never.
As they near the gates of Hogwarts, they see two more dementors on either side, their cold reaching the students as they are pulled through the gates and towards the castle that is home to most of them.

Yet as the iciness from the dementors digs into her flesh, it chases away the warmth that Avior usually feels at the sight of Hogwarts. The boys exchange a knowing glance as Avior stares out of the window when they near the castle until their carriage comes to a stop behind and in front of many others.
She is the first to get out, followed by Theodore and then Tristan. They go up the stone steps and through the large oak doors in a stream of students. Avior would have tripped if it wasn’t for Tristan quickly grabbing her arm to keep her upright while she searches for her father. She finds him towering over all the students, his gaze travelling past faces that he will be looking at every day for the upcoming term. Avior tries waving at him, but he doesn’t notice her until she is gone and sitting down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.
For the first time out of each time Remus has walked into the castle, he doesn’t go to sit at the Gryffindor table like he’s done for seven years, but he walks towards the one facing the House tables. He is staff now, which he almost has to remind himself of when he gets the urge to sit amongst students as if he still is one himself, especially as there is a smaller version of the man he once loved here as a student.
Avior stares up at the enchanted ceiling, portraying the outside sky; dark and gloomy. Theodore and Tristan sit next to each other on her right side with Theodore in the middle, waiting for the rest of the students to take their seats and for the Sorting Ceremony to start. Nyx pushes her way down to Avior’s lap where she curls up comfortably. The girl sighs, staring at the empty plate in front of her longingly, it is almost as if she can already see the food that will soon appear on each table.

“I ought to see the house elves after,” she says to no one in particular, but both boys pay attention to what she is saying. “To thank them for the food. Everyone should.” Avior gives them each a stern look. “They work hard to make us food and keep the castle clean. The least we can all do is thank them.”

“She says this almost every single term,” Theodore mutters to Tristan once she looks away.

“We should just tell her we did when she says it again,” Tristan responds with a shrug.

All three of them turn their heads to the light haired girl who sits down next to Tristan; Irene Melrose, one of Avior’s roommates and one that particularly dislikes her being related to a mass murderer. “I heard you casted a Patronus,” she pipes up, staring at Avior past Theodore and Tristan.

Avior nods, though slightly suspicious. “C’est vrai.” Her roommate scrunches her nose for the shortest second at the sound of the French language. It is associated with the Black Family and that family is bad.

“Father said the dementors are here to catch Sirius Black, but I’m guessing you already knew that…”
Although Irene has expressed her distaste before, she has never mentioned Sirius in Avior’s face like this. Her father works at the Ministry, but the word ‘father’ weirdly hits differently today. Words leave her mind entirely. The usually talkative Avior, the Avior who always has a comeback, is suddenly speechless. She isn’t sure which words are an appropriate response anyway. Her roommates should have been her closest friends for these seven years at Hogwarts, yet she has never felt so distant from Irene than at this moment now.

“What’s your problem?” Tristan snaps, his eyes flashing a warning at Irene.

“What?” She replies innocently. “I’m just asking a question, Trissy. No need to get your wand in a twist.”

“It’s none of your business, though, is it?” Tristan goes on. He can’t stand seeing the unfair treatment of his friend, especially by someone he considers his best friend. Avior opens her mouth, finally ready to defend herself, but they are all interrupted when Professor Flitwick starts the Sorting Ceremony. It is as if she can feel Irene staring at her throughout the ceremony. But when Avior subtly glances her way, she doesn’t catch her staring once. Her gaze travels past more faces along their table and there is an occasional moment of eye contact, and they either glare at her or look away. Draco Malfoy stares back indifferently when her eyes find him. She knows she is related to him in some way through Sirius, though she isn’t aware of any details. Avior has never bothered learning more about the Blacks. Part of her doesn’t want to know, she doesn’t want anything to do with that family, but the bigger part of her is curious and hungering for the need to know more, and then everything.
Professor Flitwick carries the Sorting Hat and stool out of the hall once the ceremony is over and Dumbledore stands up.

“Welcome!” says Dumbledore. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…”

Avior straightens her back just a little more, glancing at her father once before she directs her attention back to the Headmaster. Dumbledore clears his throat and continues, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”
There is a pause and she can almost feel Irene’s gaze burning into the back of her head. Irene must have heard all of this from her father before the term started, Avior thinks bitterly. 

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore goes on, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he adds earnestly. “It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.” Dumbledore pauses once more. No one makes a single sound as he looks at each table seriously. 

“On a happier note,” he continues, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
Harry Potter and his friends clap harder than Avior had expected anyone to clap, but she is still louder than them. Other students recognise his last name from hers and it isn’t hard to guess that they are related. She stands up shamelessly as she claps, making Nyx jump onto Theodore’s lap. Dumbledore smiles at her enthusiasm and Theodore is the one to tug her back into her seat. He clasps a hand over her mouth when she opens it to start cheering, too.

“He’s seen you,” he tells her, a laughing Tristan next to him. “But he didn’t hear me,” she protests, pulling his hand down.

“Oh I’m sure he has,” Theodore nods convincingly. “Clapping makes noise too, you know that right?” Avior rolls her eyes, but remains quiet until Dumbledore announces Hagrid’s taking up the post of Care of Magical Creatures in place of Professor Kettleburn. The Gryffindor table overpowers her applause this time. They are by far the most energetic after hearing that Hagrid will be amongst the professors this year, and Avior gets many dirty looks from her own house by joining. Then, Dumbledore finally announces the feast and students and staff dig in.

“I’m excited for classes with Hagrid and my papa,” Avior states with her mouth full to which Theodore —over-taught in etiquette ever since being able to walk and talk— grimaces. “I told you, Ava,” he says, “when you talk to me and I can see your half-chewed food in your mouth, I’m not listening.”
Her cheeks grow awfully scarlet, a deeper red than the blush that usually seems to be ever present. When he told her that the first time, she laughed it off. This time, she is embarrassed. Avior rarely feels embarrassed.

She quickly swallows her food. “Forgot,” she says, smiling apologetically. The feast is filled with the sounds of chattering of students and clattering of forks and knives. Theodore is, per usual, listening to his best friend talk about the upcoming term while her cat remains asleep on his lap.

“… and I’ll have my lessons with Pomfrey during the weekends, one of two days depending on when the quidditch season starts and when I have training — though if it goes anything like the previous years, she’ll be seeing me more often anyway. And now that Hagrid is teaching, I can see him more without it taking up more of my free time — speaking of, I will be able to do more Potions work. Oh! I could do extra Defense work too, with my papa.”

“Avior!” She gets called from across the Slytherin table and a few seats down. The students between her and Draco look from him and then to her, obviously listening along. “Is that your father?” It could have been an innocent question, but his snide grin says otherwise.

“Yes,” she answers, raising herself to her full height proudly. “I’ll make you regret it if you ever give him a hard time,” she adds — a warning, perhaps even a promise. Draco’s minions laugh at her, taking her threat as empty. Heat blossoms on her face with her growing frustration, but she refrains herself and simply forces her attention back to the food.
The feast comes to an end and Dumbledore sends all the students to bed. After having heard the Slytherin common room password for the term, Avior does first sneak off to the kitchens to thank the elves, where she spends at least another thirty minutes talking to them before returning to her common room and dormitory. Her roommates are either talking to one another or already in bed, so Avior hurriedly changes into her pyjamas and crawls into bed next, where she falls asleep to the hushed voices of two of her roommates.

The next morning isn’t much different. Irene gives her a sideways look as Avior leaves the dorm first. Yet even outside of her dorm and common room, she is stared at like never before. She has always been a Black. Though now that the murderer of the family has escaped, the eyes that follow her seem to accuse her of helping him, they seem to incriminate her for actions that have nothing to do with her.
Avior has just sat down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall when Snape approaches her with her timetable for the first term. He doesn’t spare her a single word, his distaste for her as clear as always, though it has lessened slightly after she proved her potential in his subject. Her first class of the day and term will be Defense. She immediately looks up, having momentarily forgotten that her father is here every moment that she is, too. Avior gets up, gripping her timetable in her hand as she walks past the house tables to the teachers’, where her father is sitting.

“Papa—” she stops abruptly before correcting herself, “I mean, Professor.” She smiles cheekily.

“Ivy,” he sighs, “that sounds weird coming from you. Unless we are in class, you do not call me that.”

“No use telling me that because my first class is with you,” she responds, holding her timetable out to him. He takes it to inspect it for a long minute. “You know, darling,” says Remus slowly, “I’m very proud of you. I have said that before, but you deserve to be reminded.”

Avior’s smile softens and brightens simultaneously. When she was sorted into Slytherin, she had been so nervous for his reaction. That feels so far away now, though in a way it is since it is now three years ago. But the idea of being afraid of Remus ever not being proud of her for doing as she is seems absurd and unreal. He has never shown or made her feel any less. Remus raised her on that feeling of pride and confidence, of love and joy, of exploring and mischief. She never lacked anything with Remus as her father, that she is certain of.

“Je t’aime, Papa.”

“What’s up, Papa?” If it wasn’t for the Anti-Apparition wards on Hogwarts and the grounds, Avior could have sworn that Theodore just appeared out of thin air.

She squints and frowns. “Are you mocking me? Or would you truly just have such an awful accent in French?”

“Don’t get me started on your accents,” he retorts and then turns back to Remus again, “She has yours, a French one and an English one… All in one! And she dares speak about my French?”

Remus can’t help but laugh quietly at the two, until his daughter —and student— punches Theodore’s arm rather harshly. “Don’t make me take points from you that you don’t have, Avior,” he warns, “I never taught you to hit others.”

She snatches her timetable from the table, ready to walk away to return to her common room so she can grab her bag and the books she will need for the day. “Je me suis appris.”

As she turns around, Theodore looks at Remus again. “What did she say?” The father is still looking at his little girl, who is now making a slight detour to push over Draco as he reenacts the fainting of a certain Gryffindor on the train last night. He topples onto the table in front of his friend group, but Avior is long gone by the time he has righted himself with a red face full of anger. “She said she taught herself,” Remus explains. His French is not nearly as good as Avior’s, but at least he can understand his kid and that is all he will ever need.