Chapter Four
1 September 1995, Hogwarts Express
Aria was seated between Hermione and Ron, Crookshanks on her lap, and Hedwig hooting in her cage. The two prefects had returned from their first set of rounds a few minutes ago. Both girls were reading, and Ron was attempting to, when he finally snapped the book shut in frustration. “The words just don’t make sense. I just can’t read them right, regardless of how hard I try. It’s like B and D – in lowercase – are rearranging each other.”
Hermione went deathly still. “Ron, you’re dyslexic.”
“What’s that?” Ron was confused.
“You’re struggling to read and interpret words, letters, and other symbols, right?” Hermione waited for Ron to nod. “You’re not stupid, your brain is just different. There should be spells to help with it.”
“I know a few, mostly in Parseltongue,” Aria offered.
“Please?” Ron looked at them with pleading eyes. “I’ve always felt stupid because of it.”
Aria put her book down, pulling out her wand. She drew a few runes in the air around Ron. “This should help, at least a little. There’s a spell to change the font in books, and the incantation for it is Facile Legere.”
“I have never heard of that spell. And it isn’t in Limus’ Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes either,” Hermione fixed Aria with a look.
“Of course, it isn’t in there. I invented it,” Aria confessed. “I originally made it in Parseltongue, Easy to Read, because my brain processed Parselscript faster than English. And I just translated that to Latin.”
“You can’t just invent spells willy-nilly!” Hermione was shocked.
“Considering that literally 90% of Parselmagic is, as you put it, inventing spells willy-nilly, because there aren’t any set spells in Parseltongue…” Aria gave Hermione a look. “You’ll find that I can, my dear.”
Hermione huffed, unable to argue against that logic. “How do you even cast in Parseltongue?”
“Just say what you want to happen and put magic into it,” Aria said, shrugging nonchalantly. She rolled her eyes at Hermione’s flabbergasted expression. “Mione, spells and silly wand-waving aren’t the extent of magic. Accidental magic, wandless magic, runes… Intent-based magics, potions, the Mind Arts… There’s so much more to magic than what’s taught in Hogwarts. There are literally entire branches of magic nobody in Hogwarts knows about because they aren’t taught or even talked about. Hell, family magic is one of the most powerful things in existence, powerful enough to stop a Killing Curse. So, stop thinking within the limits of what’s known and taught and think about what isn’t and can be learnt or discovered. Essentially, think like a Ravenclaw, Hermione. You’re capable of it.”
Just then, the compartment door opened, and Ginny and Neville entered, followed by a girl the trio had never met. Aria arched an eyebrow at Ginny, who did the introductions. “Friends, this is Luna Lovegood, one of my best friends.”
“Merry meet,” Aria greeted Luna politely. “I’m Aria Peverell, and this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”
The newcomers sat down, and Aria went back to her book as the other five started talking, humming softly.
“Like a heartbeat… drives you mad…
In the stillness of remembering what you had…
And what you lost…
And what you had…
And what you lost”
Hermione looked over at Aria, who was humming softly. She was in her natural form, and her white hair was done up in a fairly intricate updo. Her unique eyes were scanning the words, and the way the light caught them made them sparkle. Even Hermione could confess that Aria was breathtakingly beautiful, and anyone that could win her heart was rather lucky. The thought made Hermione’s gut twist in jealousy, much to her surprise.
Aria wasn’t unaware of Hermione’s scrutiny, and found that she didn’t mind it so much. Hermione was pretty, Aria would confess that much, even if the other girl didn’t see it.
The train ride stretched on and on, until they drew close to Hogsmeade. The boys left, and the girls changed into their robes. When the train stopped, they got off and headed for the carriages.
1 September 1995, Hogwarts
Aria was met with Professor McGonagall at the doors. “Miss Peverell, you’ll be sorted after the first-years. Please wait with them.”
Aria waved to Hermione and Ron, and went to wait in the antechamber. When the firsties joined her, she was vividly reminded of her own first year, waiting to be sorted and wondering how.
One of the firsties hesitantly approached her. “Hello, Miss.”
“Yes?” Aria gave the young girl a small smile.
“Are you new here?” She looked up at Aria nervously.
“I’m not. I’m being resorted,” Aria confessed easily. “My name is Aria Peverell. And you are?”
“Myra Sinclair,” the girl confessed with a giggle. “Pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Myra.” Aria smiled, watching as Myra bit her lip. “What do you want to ask?”
“Uh, how are we sorted? Because some kids are saying we have to fight a troll.” Myra looked up at Aria nervously.
“You just have to put on the Sorting Hat. It’ll decide where you’ll go, although sometimes you’ll get to choose.” Aria could see the relief on some of the firsties’ faces. “Don’t let the prejudices influence where you’ll go. Gryffindors aren’t all brave, Hufflepuffs aren’t lazy pushovers – I know an Auror that’ll hex you for even thinking that – Ravenclaws aren’t snobs, and Slytherins aren’t all evil.”
“Uh, what are the houses’ main traits?” Another firstie asked. “I’m Samuel Weir,” he added hastily.
“Gryffindors are typically daring, brave, wilful, courageous, and chivalrous. Hufflepuffs are loyal, honest, tolerant, patient, and dedicated. Ravenclaws are creative, original, intelligent, witty, and unique. Slytherins are cunning, ambitious, resourceful, determined, and shrewd. You decide what’s right for you.” Aria smiled at the firsties. “Or follow tradition, it’s up to you. Just remember, once you’re sorted – and unless you call for a resort – your house is your home and your family for your entire Hogwarts career. But don’t let that stop you from making friends in other houses, because the world out there doesn’t care about your house much.”
Minerva – who had been standing in the doorway – smiled. “Astutely said, Miss Peverell,” she said before turning to the firsties. “Form two lines, and follow me.”
Aria smiled and hung back, waiting in the entrance hall. She could hear the Sorting just fine, and smiled when she heard that Myra went to Gryffindor and Samuel went to Hufflepuff.
Minerva ignored Umbridge’s dagger glares as she cleared her throat. “We are faced with a momentous occasion. For the first time in over 70 years, a student is being resorted. Peverell, Aria.”
Aria took that as her cue, entering the Great Hall. She resolutely ignored Umbridge and Dumbledore as she sat down on the stool, letting the hat slip onto her head.
“Done arguing, Miss Peverell?”
“Yes, Hat, I am done arguing.”
“Very well, Miss Peverell. I stand by my statement in your first year. You’ll find greatness in SLYTHERIN!”
Aria took the hat off, and stood up, turning to Minerva. Then, to the surprise of many, she curtsied. “It was a pleasure being in your house, Professor McGonagall. I look forward to this year’s Transfiguration lessons.”
“It was a pleasure having you in my house, Miss Peverell,” Minerva returned with one of her rare smiles. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Aria moved to the Slytherin table, and sat down between Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.
Dinner was a calmer affair, although Aria spent most of the meal listening to the conversations flowing around her and ignoring Parkinson’s heated glares. However, her control of her temper was tested when Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore.
“Well, it’s lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” Umbridge’s words made something in Aria’s gut twist, as if screaming DANGER at her. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”
Aria’s eyes scanned the staff table, and she could see Minerva’s hawklike expression and Severus’ look that screamed of the desire to use the odious woman in experimental potions.
“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’ sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.” Umbridge smiled sweetly before sitting down.
Dumbledore led a round of applause, but Aria felt as if there was lead in her stomach. When the students were dismissed, Aria walked in tandem with Daphne and Blaise, feeling as if she was going to vomit. She paused when Daphne did, hearing Daphne mutter, “I forgot to ask Draco or Pansy what the password was.”
Aria huffed, turned to the hidden door, and hissed, “Open.” The door swung open, and Aria shot Daphne a grin. “No passwords necessary if you speak Parseltongue.”
“Well, that’s handy,” Daphne conceded. “Thanks, Peverell.”
“No thanks needed, Greengrass.” Aria gestured for Daphne to go first, and then followed her in.
The upper years settled onto loveseats or armchairs further into the room, while the firsties were seated closer to the entrance. Aria missed Draco’s speech, but Severus’ entrance had her at full attention.
“As Prefect Malfoy doubtlessly just explained, your house is your home and family for the next seven years. Slytherins are hated by the school at large, and many students will not hesitate to cause you harm,” Severus’ velvety tone belied his words. “Never travel alone – unless you can defend yourself, preferably without a wand – and leave your squabbles in the common room. Outside these rooms, we are a united front.” His gaze swept over the room, settling on Aria for a brief moment. “Your Prefects are as follows: Fifth year, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; Sixth year, Lucian Bole and Susanna Jugson; Seventh year, Graham Montague and Elladora Travers. Any and all new students are to pick a time slot for a health scan, within the week. You will not get out of it, because I shall drag you out of bed at midnight if I have to.” He nodded firmly. “My office hours are on the noticeboard, I’m here every other evening if you have questions or issues, and the password changes every Sunday. Curfew for first years is nine o’clock.” He swept out.
The younger years headed to bed, but the upper years stayed to socialise. As soon as the younger students left, Aria was bent double, her hair acid green from nausea as she breathed heavily.
Daphne gave her a look. “By Morgana, Peverell, what’s wrong with you?”
“Umbridge,” Aria choked out. “I honestly have no idea how anyone can stand her.” She was still breathing heavily, her head between her knees.
“What are you even on about?” Pansy sneered at Aria.
“If you think Ministry interference is the worst she’s bringing to Hogwarts,” Aria said as she slowly sat up, looking Pansy in the eye, “then you couldn’t be more wrong, Parkinson. Because Umbridge’s level of sadism makes that of Bellatrix Lestrange pale in comparison. The Lestranges didn’t touch the children. Umbridge has no such moral compunctions.”
Most of the upper years paled, even as Cassius Warrington looked over at Aria. “How do you even know that?”
“Umbridge doesn’t have Occlumency shields, and I’m a natural Legilimens,” Aria confessed quietly. “It’s nearly impossible to not pick up the thoughts of the people around me without Occlumency shields. And Umbridge’s are some of the worst that I’ve had the misfortune of witnessing.” The fading acid green colour returned full force. “Whatever you do, stay out of detention with Umbridge. Because those quills she’ll make you use will make you wish for the Cruciatus instead.”
“Peverell, what do you mean?” Blaise was looking at her in disbelief.
“Non-standard blood quills, Zabini,” Aria said as she put her head between her knees again. “Non-standard blood quills that carve into your skin as you write lines in your own blood, enough lines and blood to fill entire rolls of parchment. That’s what I mean.”
All of the upper years looked sick now, even as Graham Montague muttered, “That’s barbaric! Surely she can’t be thinking of doing that to heirs?”
“She doesn’t care if you’re a Muggleborn firstie or a seventh-year Pureblood Heir,” Aria retorted from where she still had her head between her knees, “you’re going to write lines with those infernal quills anyway. And it’s sanctioned by the Minister himself, so…”
All of them looked stricken, and Daphne sighed. “Okay, Peverell, I’m going to show you to our dorm.” She got up and led Aria to the fifth-year girls’ dorm. “Yours is over there, under the window.”
“Thanks, Greengrass.” Aria nodded firmly, starting to put up wards around her cubicle. She had a feeling she could trust Daphne, Millicent and Tracey, but Pansy would be problematic. She put the wards up using Parselmagic – to be on the safe side, since she was incredibly wary now, especially in new territory. And after that, she went to bed for well-earned rest.