An unsteady start
Spattering rain began to fall as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of London. With a book propped open on his lap and Twyla curled up beside him, Grey found himself distracted by the raindrops chasing each other down the window.
Richard sat across from him, already dressed in his new Slytherin robes. His friend had grown several inches over the summer and it would have almost been cruel if his parents had let him wear his old uniform. Grey, on the other hand, was holding off putting his uniform on as long as possible. It was embarrassing enough that he had to transfigure the skirts into trousers let alone that his cloak was still torn from a scrap last year. No matter how many times he had repaired them, they kept getting ripped - he suspected rats at the orphanage.
A quiet hour passed in which both boys read their books, oblivious to the usual start-of-term chatter throughout the rest of the train. Finally, after the trolly witch had been through, Grey dogeared his page and stuffed the book back into his trunk. He turned his attention to Richard.
"How was your summer?"
The Slytherin placed his own book onto the seat beside him and shrugged.
"Pretty average, went to Cornwall to visit the family, lots of ice cream."
Grey offered him a small smile at his answer.
"Yourself?"
He looked up at Richard surprised at the question. Richard never asked him how his summer holiday went, knowing full well that they were spent either at Hogwarts or the orphanage, both situations he rarely enjoyed. But Grey didn't dwell on the break from routine. Instead, he chose to humour his only friend.
"It was uneventful, kept my head down."
Now that technically wasn't a lie. Grey had tried especially hard to stay out of trouble that summer but only because he had been undertaking something especially rule-defying in the back room of the orphanage's attic. How he'd ever gotten away with it still puzzled him. But he was grateful. Grey had spent his summer completing the steps to become an animagus and it had worked! He found himself genuinely excited to return to Hogwarts and use his new ability. It would save him from having to sneak unsuccessfully around the castle whenever he couldn't sleep and wanted to see the stars. Now he could fly beneath them.
"Do you still get the headaches?"
Grey's attention was pulled back to his friend. He simply nodded in response. Since the end of the previous term, he had been suffering from sudden migraines and they had indeed continued through the summer.
"If they persist, you should really see Nurse Sullivan. I'm sure he could whip you up a cure in no time."
Despite the calmness of Richard's voice, Grey knew there was genuine concern behind his words. He watched as his friend picked at the dry skin around his fingers.
"Good idea," Grey echoed, "Next time I get one I'll go see him."
Richard nodded, turning his attention out the window. He no longer picked his fingers. Grey smiled to himself and gently pulled Twyla onto his lap.
Hours passed in comfortable silence as the sky darkened outside the train. The rain was falling in droning sheets upon the window when Richard excused himself so Grey could change. As Grey pulled down the blinds he saw his friend position himself with his back to the outside of the door so nobody came in or tried to peak. It was embarrassing that everybody knew the truth but he was glad the Slytherin boy was so unjudging.
Pulling the skirts from his trunk, Grey quickly transfigured them. The spell wore off every couple of months but Grey excelled in transfiguration so never really struggled to sort it out. He changed quickly into his Ravenclaw robes. Once he was done he packed up his trunk and pushed open the door to readmit his friend, nodding in gratitude. Richard simply smiled and they returned to sitting in silence.
As the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, Grey felt Richard's hand catch his arm. He almost flinched at the unfamiliar contact yet somehow he felt comfort from the warmth of his touch. Turning to face his friend, their eyes met for a moment.
"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?" Richard inquired gently.
"Of course."
Grey laid his hand atop the one on his bicep. His eyes met Richard's once again and he smiled. Then, with one last nod, he ducked his head and joined the stream of students exiting the train, letting himself be swept away from his friend in the crowd.
Grey tried not to look at the gaunt creatures pulling the carriages. He'd quickly learnt that seeing them was not something to call attention to so instead he kept his gaze on his muddy shoes and focussed on the cold rain trickling down the back of his neck.
Climbing into a smaller carriage, he found himself sitting across from a young-looking Hufflepuff boy - maybe a second year. The kid was visibly trembling and Grey could see his eyes darting from window to window. His chest rose and fell far too quickly. Sighing, Grey reached up and lit the lantern dangling from the carriage roof, casting a warm light within the enclosed space. It also made it difficult to see beyond the raindrops on the windows. He watched as the young boy's frantic glances began to slow and his breathing normalize. Grey left it until the carriage started to move before opting to speak.
"I'm presuming you saw what's pulling the carriages?" He inquired softly.
The kid nodded.
"What are they?"
His voice was hushed as if he was scared the creatures would overhear.
"They're called thestrals. Don't worry, they're not dangerous. They won't hurt you."
Grey tried to make his voice sound as calm as possible. It was true, these ones wouldn't harm anyone but that was because they were domesticated. He didn't feel like sharing that they were probably the only domesticated ones.
"Why can't everybody else see them?" The Hufflepuff asked innocently.
Grey felt a pang in his chest.
"I don't know," He shrugged casually, "Maybe we're just special."
The boy grinned at Grey, who returned the gesture. He didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. He'd find out inevitably anyway.
Instead, he offered the boy a chocolate leftover from his lunch which he accepted.
"Well, I'm sure glad I'm not a first-year tonight." Grey chuckled as thunder boomed overhead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The great hall was a delightful welcome on a night as foul as this. Though the bewitched ceiling crackled with lightning, the candles suspended like raindrops cast a warm light over the four house tables. Ghosts glided amiably between the incoming students as friends greeted each other and found their seats.
Grey chose a seat at the entrance end of the Ravenclaw table, ready to hurry to his dorm as soon as the feast ended. It saved him from awkward interrogations by first years and entitled classmates regarding his singular room.
Once everyone was seated, the ancient doors of the great hall opened, and a bedraggled gaggle of soden first years trailed inside led by a beaming professor Dumbledore - the transfiguration professor. Grey had always liked Dumbledore even though his cheery attitude did occasionally irritate him. Besides, transfiguration was one of his best subjects.
His mind wandered elsewhere during the sorting hats song and the sorting. Pain was creeping up the back of his head again and he made a mental note to visit Nurse Sullivan in the morning. He couldn't risk his window to get back to his dorm tonight.
His attention was dragged back to the room when Headmaster Dippet rose to the stan to give his speech. He was a kind-looking wizard in his early middle age with the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular beard to match his already chest-length grey hair. In robes of maroon, he certainly was an interesting sight. The headmaster smiled kindly as he surveyed the students.
"Welcome," He began in a warm yet slightly warbling tone, "Welcome students, new and old, to another year at Hogwarts. I hope you study hard and treat each other with respect just like you do every year."
Grey rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the statement. He could see at least seven people within twenty feet of him that would not follow such simple instructions.
"Now before we begin our wonderful feast, I have a few notices to give out. As usual, the forbidden forest is off limits to all students as is the black lake between now and May to those who do not wish to catch hypothermia."
A few students and faculty laughed at that. Grey was not one of them.
"Now, on a darker note, I'm sure you are all aware by now that dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald is once again at large and whose whereabouts are currently unknown-"
Grey's headache was getting slowly more painful and he was struggling to keep focus.
"- security measures are higher than ever so there is no need to fear for -"
He scanned the staff table hurriedly. Nurse Sullivan wasn't present, he must be preparing medical supplies in the hospital wing. He often kept to himself, Grey thought hopefully. As Applause broke out, he felt each sound drilling further and further into his skull. For the first time, he actually missed the eerie quiet of the orphanage. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his nails into the palms of his hands, hoping the sensation would distract him.
At that moment, Grey found his plate filled with food as the hall erupted into chatter. The mixing smells of all the food combined with the cacophony of voices was enough to send his head swimming with a fresh wave of pain.
In a split decision, he rose to his feet. Several perplexed glances were sent towards the Ravenclaw boy clutching his head but Grey ignored them, stumbling out of the hall. His steps, though urgent, were clumsy and slow as he found it difficult to navigate through the haze of pain. He paused in the entrance hall, enjoying the break from the sound. In the orphanage, he'd retreat undisturbed (usually) to his bed when a migraine came. He certainly got no concern or care. But the possibility of relief was too intoxicating for him to refuse.
Just as he was about to begin his trek to the hospital wing, the sound of footsteps interrupted him. Professor Dumbledore emerged from the great hall, with a questioning yet friendly look on his face.
"Mr Willow, is everything alright? You're not supposed to leave the welcome feast." He inquired.
His words held more concern than authority but Grey felt anxious nonetheless.
"I'm sorry professor," he began through gritted teeth, "I've been suffering from migraines all summer and I am experiencing one now, I felt it necessary to visit the hospital wing."
He tried to keep his explanation as brief and polite as possible. Dumbledore surveyed him with sympathy and Grey dug his nails even deeper into the palms of his hands.
"I understand," Dumbledore muttered, "I will escort you, in case you take a turn for the worse along the way."
Grey offered him a strained smile. He was unsure if that was the real reason or an excuse to make sure he wasn't lying but he wasn't about to argue with a teacher on day one.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Grey could almost sense that his teacher was getting ready to make conversation. And low and behold, two corridors later, Dumbledore turned to him with another of his friendly smiles.
"So how was your summer?" He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets to shield them from the draft.
"Mostly uneventful sir. Yourself?"
"Quite extraordinary, I had an unusual encounter with a niffler in my home but an old friend of mine sorted it out."
Grey made a noise of acknowledgement.
"Were there many other children at the orphanage this summer?" Dumbledore continued.
Grey groaned internally, feeling blood seep from the indents of his palms.
"Not many, most are younger than ten and have little interest in me and Elodie was adopted by a French couple. I believe she attends Beauxbatons now."
Elodie had been a sweet girl, the same age as Grey. They'd been somewhat friends since she came to Willow's Orphanage for magical youth a few years ago. She was incredibly considerate and well-mannered, a prior Gryffindor, so he was hardly surprised when she was adopted. Anyway, people came and went frequently at the orphanage - most people.
"Ah yes, Elodie, an excellent student. A shame she left but no doubt she'll do well at Beauxbatons." The young professor mused. "If you don't mind me asking, why didn't the staff-"
But Dumbledore's question was cut off by an unholy clattering above them. Grey clutched his ears, head reeling from the noise. Meanwhile, Dumbledore turned his attention to the pan-wielding poltergeist floating above their heads. Peeves cackled and spun round and round in the air whilst bashing the pan into an adjacent brazier. Grey glared angrily at the orange-clad spirit. He could feel every clash of the pan constrict his neurons to agony.
"I'll take that, thank you Peeves." Dumbledore sighed.
With a wordless flick of his wand, the pan vanished. Peeves blew a raspberry at them in response and whizzed backwards through the wall.
Grey was too distracted to witness the exchange. His breaths were laboured, he leant against the cold wall. Black dots were beginning to obscure his vision, causing him to blink back pained tears. He felt Dumbledore gently touch his shoulder so he moved his head upwards in acknowledgment.
"Let's get you to the hospital wing." The professor said in a more concerned tone.
Stumbling forward with more haste, Grey let Dumbledore guide him through the hallways, a steady hand remaining on his arm. It was difficult to register how close they were so he felt relief when he was stirred into the softly lit wing.
Nurse Sullivan was stacking shelves but looked over in surprise at the sound of someone entering.
"Albus, Mr Willow, shouldn't you both be at the feast?" He questioned in his gentle Irish accented voice.
He was quite a short man, with piercing yellow eyes and swept-back dark hair.
"Mr Willow is suffering from a particularly violent headache."
Grey swayed slightly where he stood, thankful for the support of Dumbledore's grip. Hurrying over, Nurse Sullivan grabbed a few bottles from the shelf and surveyed the swaying Ravenclaw.
"Yes, you do look paler than usual." He grimaced, "Sit down on the bed."
He gestured to the nearest bed and Dumbledore guided Grey over.
"How bad is your pain, scale of one to ten?" He asked as he began to mix two vials of liquid.
Grey thought he might vomit if he answered verbally so he raised seven fingers. Sullivan raised his eyebrows and added two more swigs of one vial to the other. He handed the little glass bottle to Grey.
"Drink this."
Grey complied. It tasted icy cold like strong mint toothpaste but it did quickly reduce the pain to a manageable level. He sighed with relief.
"Better?"
"Mostly." He nodded.
"Mostly?"
Grey nodded again.
Sullivan's brows knitted together and he exchanged a confused glance with Dumbledore.
"Scale of one to ten, how bad is it now?" He inquired curiously.
"Maybe around a four." Grey shrugged, glancing between the nurse and his transfiguration professor. Sullivan looked confused but Dumbledore wore a more thoughtful expression.
"Why?"
"Have you had other headaches like this?" Sullivan asked, ignoring Grey's question.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Maybe once or twice a week for the past three months," Grey grumbled.
He tried to examine the men's facial expressions but found them both difficult to read.
"Any other symptoms?" Sullivan asked.
Grey gave him a questioning look. It was at this moment Dumbledore interjected. His voice remained calm but Grey could detect a hint of knowing concern in his tone. It made his palms sweat more.
"Insomnia, visual problems, strange coincidences?"
"How are strange coincidences a symptom?" Grey asked in exasperation.
"Just answer," Sullivan demanded.
Not wishing to land himself in any trouble, Grey scratched at the punctures in his palms.
"I've always struggled with sleep. My vision is usually affected during the headaches," He rambled, thinking rapidly, " Maybe some odd coincidences but I live at a magical orphanage so I write them off as normal."
As he finished speaking he watched the men share another look, this one more concerned than the last.
"Look, it's just migraines, What's this all about?" He questioned tensely.
There was a pause.
Grey dug his nails into his palms again. Finally, after a good minute, Sullivan turned to him with a small smile.
"You're right, probably just migraines. Make sure to come back if you experience another, I'll have an elixir prepared."
Grey stared at the nurse, trying to mask his irritation and confusion.
"Thank you, sir." He managed to say in a somewhat strained voice.
"Why don't you head up to your common room Mr Willow, the feast will be finishing imminently."
Grey nodded and hastened out of the hospital wing. He was tempted to wait around to see if he could overhear any of their conversation but he knew his window to return without notice was growing smaller. So instead he chose to follow Dumbledore's suggestion. Making his way up the stairs, he could hear the dull drone of chatter as students began to exit the great hall. The pain in his head was bearable enough to quicken his pace, leaping over the vanishing step. He was almost out of breath when he reached the bronze eagle knocker, so far undisturbed by other students. The eagle creaked to life, opening its beak to recite its riddle. Grey answered it without issue and barreled into the spacious Ravenclaw common room.
He grinned seeing the wide room completely deserted and hurried to his little single dorm room. He shut the door and magically locked it with a murmured spell. Twyla was already curled up asleep on his blue bedsheets and his trunk stuffed beneath the bed.
Sighing to himself, Grey pulled on his pyjamas. His mind was too occupied with the events of the evening to remember what he'd wished to do upon arrival. Besides, it was storming, so flying beneath the stars would not even be possible. Another day perhaps.
He climbed into his bed, drawing the curtain across the wide domed window. Rapid footsteps and excited voices echoed beyond his door as students settled into their evening tasks but Grey ignored the noise. Quietly he stared at the light beneath his door and kept replaying the exchange in the hospital wing over and over in his mind. He felt perplexed and the pain in his head and palms added irritation to his thoughts.
Sleep evaded him for many hours, much like normal. Slowly, the light and noises faded, leaving him in peaceful darkness. In the early hours, he finally felt his eyelids droop and dark dreams chased the night away.
But when he woke the following morning, he remembered none of them. He never did remember his dreams. It didn't bother him. Why should he remember them - they weren't important.