Cracks
Theo’s POV //
Where on earth is she going? I leant on the staircase railing to catch my breath, my heaves sounding louder than I would have liked. Thanks to the stone walls, every sound I made seemed to echo in my ears. But she hadn’t heard me, so I kept following.
It was early in the morning, and the castle was still dark. Yet there she was, slinking through the castle’s numerous corridors as if she’d done it a thousand times. Knowing her, she probably had.
Merlin, I should not be doing this. I could be in my warm bed right now, listening to Mattheo’s obnoxious snores or planning an assault on Draco’s dorm room. Man am I itching to give him a good scare; he’s grown too whiny for his own good! Yet here I am, freezing my ass off chasing a girl I can’t stand!
But as usual, curiosity had gotten the best of me. It just had to whisper its sickly-sweet voice in my ear and leave me craving answers I knew I should not even be asking questions for.
This better be good.
I watched as Astrid Potter disappeared through a door at the top of the staircase. She did not look down at me, probably not expecting anyone to be up at this hour. Normally, she would be right.
I’d known something was off with her from the moment I’d met her. But it was only yesterday at breakfast that I’d caught something that would help me figure out just what. She was normally the first one down to breakfast, sat on one of the wooden benches of our Slytherin table and munching on whatever food took her fancy. Usually toast, I’d noticed. Accompanied either by an assortment of fruit or smothered in honey. Not that I consciously paid her any mind, of course. But I digress. Pansy claimed she always woke next to an empty bed, and no one in our house had ever seen her walk into the hall during the mornings. Until yesterday.
As strange as it was to see her enter the hall so late, no one questioned it. They probably thought she’d decided to sleep in a little. I myself wondered the same, so I asked Pansy.
“Was Astrid still in your dorm when you woke up?”
“No.” She looked just as confused as I was.
I furrowed my brows. “That’s odd. Where do you think she was?”
Astrid walked over to our table, taking her routine place at Pansy’s side. She seemed not to notice all the stares that were following her.
“I’ve never seen you enter the hall at breakfast before,” said Pansy.
“I just went out for a bit. Needed the bathroom,” Astrid answered smoothly.
It was a lie. One that Pansy believed.
But I did not. I don’t know how I knew. I just did. And that’s what led me here, dragging myself up these cold stone steps on some stupid quest to see where it was that she went every morning.
It was a full minute before I followed her through the door, not wanting to risk giving myself away. As I didn’t know the castle’s layout very well, it took me a moment to figure out where I was. The room was outside but slightly warmer than the inside corridors that sucked up the cold like a sponge. A couple of silver telescopes lined the walls where posters of star charts were magically stuck.
The Astronomy Tower.
The moon was still a faint glow in the sky, but a pink haze was rising, a tell that sunrise was near. Damn. I was out in the open. The shadows would not conceal me from view for much longer, and the last thing I needed was for her to think I’d followed her. I’d never live that down.
Quickly scanning the room, I cursed its bareness. There were no tables, no curtains. The staircase was too far away, and hiding behind a telescope was foolish. My only option was to sneak to one of the many balconies that lined the rim of the circular room, where I would be partially hidden by the columns that separated them.
I took a step forward on the wooden floor and winced when the board creaked from my weight. Luckily, Astrid was standing at the furthest balcony, so she didn’t hear me. I needed to move faster. She could turn around at any moment.
I was about halfway to my chosen hiding place when a sudden screech had me freezing in place. Kamaria, Astrid’s owl, sat perched on the railing of my balcony and was giving me a beady eyed glare. Stupid bird.
“Shoo, shoo,” I hissed, attempting to wave it away before it attracted its owner's attention. It only squawked louder. “Quiet down, you stupid bird!”
“Kamaria?”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
I ran for it, pressing my back against the wall separating our two balconies. Kamaria pecked at my face, and I waved my arms, trying to swat her off. “Leave me alone. I swear to Salazar, if you get me caught, I’ll cook you and order the house elves to serve you at dinner.”
The evil bird let out her loudest screech yet. But maybe that was because she’d stuck her small beak in my ear.
“Kamaria, what are you squawking at? Come over here. You’ll wake the whole castle!”
I noticed the change in Astrid’s voice as Kamaria finally flew away. No, not a change, but a well-hidden crack that made me want to poke my head around the wall to catch a glimpse of her face.
I was inches away from her, so close I could hear her breathing if I really listened. It was faster than normal, but occasionally the sound would stop for a few seconds as if she was holding her breath. It was only when a sob escaped her throat that I realised she was crying. What could she possibly be sad about? She excelled in class, had people flock to her like seagulls and yet here she stood, in the early hours of the morning, accompanied only by a malicious owl, crying! My first thought suddenly popped into my head again, forcing itself through the thick barrier of all my complaints.
What could make a girl like her cry?
I pondered that thought as the sun rose over the distant mountains. I could only imagine what the girl next to me looked like, eyes glassy, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was difficult to picture.
She sighed from next to me, and I heard her move away from the balcony, her footsteps tapping lightly against the wooden floor as she began to walk across the room. “Well, time for breakfast, I think. I cannot be late again; last time was just embarrassing. I’ll see you later, my sweet owl,” she said.
No, no, no, no, no! Dammit, I should’ve left earlier. If she turns around again, she’ll see me! I flattened myself against the wall that had hidden me from her before, watching her back as she strode right past me. Just a little further. Just a few more steps and she would be out of the room. None the wiser to my presence.
There was a sudden movement to my right. A shadow and a flap of wings that rustled my hair and made my stomach plummet.
“Squaaawk.”
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.
She turned around.
And I froze.
But not because I’d been caught. Astrid hadn’t turned in my direction. Instead, she was gazing out at the sky as the sun reached its peak over the distant mountains. It was her face, though, that made my heart stop in its tracks. A face made of marble, sculpted so perfectly into her everyday smile that she always seemed to wear so effortlessly around our peers. A face I now realised, that was not really a face at all, but a mask. A mask that in which I had heard a crack.
She turned around once again, and did not look back as she left the tower.
Astrid’s POV //
“One of a Wizard’s most rudimentary skills is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly.”
We were in Charms class and Professor Flitwick was instructing us on how to cast the levitation charm. I had cast it before, but never with a wand. Pansy and I had been practising our wand movements every day for the last week, mostly at my insistence. There were many moments when Pansy had snatched my wand from my hand in frustration and demanded we take a break or find something else to do. Usually, that involved discussing clothes or the boys. For some reason I could not fathom, she seemed to have a particular fondness for Draco. Generally, I went along with it, but Merlin was it exhausting sometimes to listen to her drone on about him.
“Draco is so good at Transfiguration. Did you see how he knew the answer to all McGonagall’s questions?”
I saw how Draco lost his temper when Crabbe startled him into tearing his page and spilling his ink.
“Now, don’t forget the nice wrist movement we’ve been practising—the swish and flick.” The professor gestured for us to copy his movements. Even with all the practice, they still felt strange to me. How could this wooden stick possibly channel my magic?
By the time I decided to try the spell, half the class already had their feathers in the air. Enzo, who had been sitting next to me, was watching me in confusion.
“You alright?”
I was about to lie, but his genuine eyes lowered my guard. I gave him a small smile, whispering softly, “Bit nervous, actually. First time with a wand.”
“Ah, Pansy said you’ve been quite devoted to your wand studies lately.”
“She said that?”
“Well, I believe her phrasing was ‘obsessing more than Moaning Myrtle whining about her death’,” he chuckled.
“That does sound more like her.”
He nudged me lightly, a small grin forming on his face. “Hey, you’ll do fine. Even if you don’t get it right away, you’re still the most talented witch I know. You’ll get it.”
I gave him a grateful smile before turning to my feather. Holding out my wand, I replicated the professor’s movements, waving it in the swish and flick I had been rehearsing by the light of the dim green lanterns in our dorm.
“Wingardium Leviosa.” Nothing happened.
I cast again. “Wingardium Leviosa.” Nothing.
I cast again.
And again.
And again.
I tried seventeen times before I stood up from my seat in frustration, dropping my wand to the floor as I created new movements with my hands.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” I all but screamed. The feather rose up into the air, and I slumped back down in my seat.
“Miss Potter,” Professor Flitwick began. The entire class was staring at me in confusion. A few Gryffindors turned to snicker and whisper to each other, their eyes never leaving my face. “I know you are used to casting without a wand and that it is difficult for you to transition to using it, but here at Hogwarts we teach our students to cast through our wands. I have full faith that you will be able to achieve this, but you must commit yourself to only using your wand from now on, especially in my class.”
His words came with no ill intent. I think he meant to be encouraging. But my ears burned red, and my head began to spin. I wanted to yell, shout at the professor that it was unfair; that he shouldn’t force me to use an item that I didn’t even need. But I kept my face passive and held my tongue.
“Yes, professor.”
Weeks later I could still not cast a single spell with my wand, and despite my efforts to learn my errors and correct them, I could not seem to find any. My pronunciation was obviously not an issue. My wand movements were perfect, Professor Flitwick said so himself. Yet not even a spark would come out of my wand. It just sat there, a useless wooden stick that everyone told me was the key to magic. I knew it was not smart to speak against my professors, but did they really know better than I? A girl who had gotten on perfectly fine without relying on fickle tools to help her.
Despite my doubts, I still practised with my wand. Morning to night, from when I woke up early in the morning to the late hours after the rest of the castle had gone to sleep, I practised. Every break, every spare moment, I studied and practised until I could no longer keep my eyes open.
I would have liked a place of my own to practise. The space would have given me some peace of mind. Back home, I was used to large open hallways, classrooms that opened up and joined with the outside world, letting in golden sunlight and flourishing plant life. I was used to the sweet, florally perfumed air that floated around the trees that we students sat around as we studied. But here? Here were the crowded hallways, filled with warm smelly bodies between classes and frozen with a cold emptiness when the students were gone. Here was the smell of fire and stone that filled my lungs, slowly suffocating me as the days went by. And here were the bullies. The small group of Gryffindors that had taken to cornering me after they realised I could not use magic against them.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the witch who can’t cast spells.”
I glanced up from my books, my face morphing into a glare. It was lunchtime, but I had been studying in the library, one of the rare times it was empty.
“What do you want McLaggen?”
I was on edge. I could feel the shadows moving around me, even in the sunlight. McLaggen was stupid. But not that stupid. He would not have come alone. I had enough reputation left for that.
“From you? Nothing. What could a Slytherin squib like you possibly have to offer me?” he spat.
“Squib?” I squinted in confusion. I had never heard of that term before. Was it British? Irish? Was it muggle or magical?
McLaggen laughed. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the dying cry of a seagull. “So, you’re stupid as well, it seems. No wonder your brother is ten times the wizard you’ll ever be.”
I gritted my teeth and ignored him, turning back to my books. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shadows become larger, squeezing the light around me, shrinking it until I could no longer feel the sun. I could have done something then. I probably should have. But I was not yet ready to face those consequences.
Sitting in an empty hallway, curling into my shaking knees, my bag lying beside me, I wept. They had ripped up all my books, tearing them all, page by page, until they were almost the size of dust particles. They had teased, jeered, taunted, and even locked me in the library’s store cupboard when the librarian was out of sight. And I had let it happen. I had let it happen because there were things I feared more than their malicious words and violent acts.
The physical damage was easy enough to undo. Reparo for the books. Alohomora for the door. All wandless, of course. The disgusting sludge of disappointment slid down my throat like tar. Failure was not something I accepted, not with myself. I needed to be able to cast with a wand. I would not survive here otherwise.
“I will not accept defeat,” I whispered, hoping the words would have some effect.
Slowly standing up, my back scratching on the rough wall as I slid up its surface, I grabbed my bag and began the journey back to my common room. Before I could get very far, however, I heard a low rumble, a crackling sound that came from behind me, from where I had previously been sitting.
Turning around, I was surprised to see a door coated in an armour of black swirls I had not seen before in the castle.
“Well, that was definitely not there before.”
Walking up to the newly formed door, I ran my fingers against the metal design. It was cool to the touch, but not cold. It felt oddly inviting, as if it were asking me to open it. I hesitated. Magical doors often led to one of two things: valuable items, or valuable rooms. More often than not, danger was not an unattached term. I decided could live with that; so I cracked the door open, and slid into the room.
It was dark inside. The only light came from a crack in the doorway, allowing through a small beam that reassured me I had not just stepped into a void, or worse, that something really horrible had happened to me and I had ended up dead.
“Lumos.”
Blue light filled my palm, and I held it out in front of me, guiding the beam of light around the room. It was fairly large, my light did not reach the end, however far away it was. It also seemed to be quite bare. There were no pictures on the stone walls and no furniture to decorate the floor. Why was this room hidden?
Curiosity overtook my caution, and I cast nox to put out my light, allowing the darkness to drape itself over me once again. Excitement began to fizz up in my chest, bubbling through my veins and to my head. I cast a different spell this time.
“Revelio.”
For a minute, nothing happened. I began rocking on the balls of my feet, holding my breath as my spell travelled through the room. Then I spotted the glow. It was faint, a dull golden yellow that faded into the darkness around me, swallowed by the void of black. It looked like it was coming from a wall at the end of the room. I made my way towards it, walking in the dark until my hands brushed cool stone. I stepped back.
“Revelio,” I cast again.
The glow came back, illuminating the wall and revealing the curtain that hung on it. As the glow faded once again, I took the fabric in my hands, sliding it through my fingers to get a better grip. I pulled on it, tugging it down until several meters of soft velvet had fallen at my feet.
“What are you doing?” a deep, silky voice said into the darkness.
I swivelled around, instinctively casting a shield that lit up the area around me. No one was there.
“Hmph. Not bad for a child.”
I realised the sound was coming from behind me. I swivelled back around, letting out a small shriek as I jumped back, finding myself face-to-face with a young man. No, a portrait of a young man, I realised once I had gotten over the shock. He was dressed in all black, a formal suit that fitted his form perfectly with a tight, high collar around his neck that looked stiff enough to choke on. His fair was black too, falling into soft midnight waves that stopped just above his chin. He must have been the most regal-looking wizard I had ever seen.
Neither of us said a word as I held his piercing gaze. He was clearly assessing me, with his furrowed brows arching over his cold grey eyes and his mouth set in a grim line. For some reason, I felt myself straightening up, matching his stiff demeanour as he looked down on me.
I had many questions, but I refused to break. I crossed my arms and lifted a brow, attempting to prompt the man to speak. His eyes widened before settling into a deep glare. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he huffed a sigh as he gave in.
“If you’re going to stand there and gawk, could you stop shining that bloody light in my eyes?”
I looked down at my hands. They were both glowing brightly, and my shield was gone. I must have cast lumos at some point after I saw the portrait. Heat ran to my cheeks as I blushed.
“Sorry.”
He rolled his eyes. “You do realise that using a wand is more precise? You’d be far less prone to unintentional casting.”
“I find wandless to be more instinctual and convenient,” I snap.
“Indeed.” He studied me further, eyes narrowing as they ran up and down my body. “How did you find The Room?” He then flicked his hand, as if waving away his own question. “Actually, that is irrelevant. Why did you find me?”
“The Room?”
“The Room of Requirement, of course. The Come-and-Go room. Whatever they call it nowadays.” He must have noticed my blank look because he pinched his nose and took a deep breath. “The room appears when you need it. It equips itself to whatever the wizard or witch requires. In this case, it seems that you require me. Why?”
I thought about it but could not find an answer. I did not ask to see him, nor did I recognise him. Why had the room brought me to meet him? “I don’t know,” I conceded. “One minute I was sitting in the hallway, the next, there is a door appearing behind me, leading to a room with your portrait hanging on the wall.”
“Sitting in the hallway? Why in Salazar’s name were you sitting in a hallway alone? It should be past curfew by now.”
I glanced down at my feet, trying to hide my shame. Should I tell him? It would probably make him look down on me more than he already is. But maybe, just maybe, he could help. “I was being bullied in the library by some second years. I needed to sort myself out, so I went to a hallway where I thought no one would look.”
The young man scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
I shrugged, refusing to look at him.
“It’s not possible.” His face twisted into a look of disgust. “You may only be a first or second year, but in the five minutes you’ve been in this room, I’ve seen more advanced magic come from your hands than even a fourth year would know how to perform with their wand.” The man paced in his frame as if unable to comprehend me, raking his fingers through his thick waves before freezing mid-stride. Whipping his head back towards me, it looked as if he was staring into my soul as he said, “Oh Merlin. You let them bully you.” A look of pity flashed across his face before quickly morphing into anger. “YOU LET THEM BULLY YOU?”
I flinched, fiddling with my hands as I continued to avoid his gaze.
“LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!”
My neck snapped up, obeying his command despite my desire to run back out the door and away from this seething man. He seemed to calm a little at this and made his voice a little softer as he spoke.
“Why didn’t you fight back?”
“I cannot cast with a wand.” My voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it all the same.
“What?”
“I cannot cast with a wand,” I said, louder this time. “I have tried, but I have only been able to cast wandless. That is how I was first taught.” I take a pause to sigh, fiddling with my skirt. “Now at this school, I am banned from casting without a wand. They say I must learn how to use one, but I have had no success. That is why I am bullied.”
“You’re pathetic.”
My eyes widened. I had not been expecting that response, yet at the same time, I knew I should not have been surprised. “You would expect me to ignore my professors rules?”
“It’s called self-preservation. Your instincts tell me that you know that better than anyone. So, what’s the real reason behind your submission?”
My face heated at his words. How dare he! Who was he to judge? I did not stumble into this room to spill all my secrets to a condescending portrait who seemed to have only a mild interest in me.
“Why should I tell you? I do not even know who you are,” I seethed.
“Ladies first.”
“Fine. Astrid Lily Potter. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” For some reason, I felt the need to be formal. I even curtsied, albeit mockingly.
I caught the recognition before he had a chance to hide it. It calmed my rage a bit as it piqued my curiosity. “You know me.”
“I know your name. You’re a half-blood.” His tone sounded almost bitter as he spoke, as if he detested the words.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
I folded my arms. Now I knew the kind of person I was dealing with. “I do not believe in blood purists.”
“Well, I do.”
“Who are you?”
“I don’t think you’re ready for that answer.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes at the portrait as I speak. “You are a Slytherin blood purist, probably from a ‘noble’ house, part of the sacred twenty-eight. I think I can handle the rest.”
“Perhaps. But I think I’ll hold on to my name for now,” he said as his mouth twisted into a smirk.
I made to leave then, done with the conversation that would only lead to me running in circles, chasing answers I would not receive. I was halfway to the door before he called out.
“Wait,” he demanded. I waited, feeling his eyes on my back. “I’ll hold onto my name for now, as I said, but I’ll tell you how to use the room if you’re interested.”
A small smirk made its way onto my face. He wanted me to stay.
“I’m listening.”