3
Amita woke up the next morning to Marlene’s loud complaining.
“Lilyyy~” she whined, covering her head with her pillow, trying to block out the redhead’s nagging.
“Marlene! We’ll be late,” Lily tried to reason, her hair already neatly brushed and uniform on. “And it’s only the first day!”
While the two bickered amicably, Amita stood up and opened her suitcase. She rummaged inside for a while before giving up and, with a sigh, picked up her wand to accio her belongings.
She placed her delicate mirror on the small table near her bed and tried to look surprised at the bags beneath her eyes. With a quick swish of her wand, they were gone. Still, her half-lidded eyes betrayed her lack of sleep even without the purplish hue beneath her irises.
She tied her button up shirt, but with a glance to the tie resting on her bed, decided to leave it out of her look. McGonagall would surely address it when she entered Transfiguration that morning, but that was honestly the least of her worries.
She quickly gathered her morning books in the small charmed drawstring bag she carried around everywhere. She also placed a few quills and a pot of ink—which she prayed wouldn’t spill—and after quickly looking around to make sure the girls weren’t looking, muggle pens.
“Oh, Amita,” Marlene spoke, now fully dressed. How she had gotten up and dressed up so quickly was beyond her. “Going to breakfast? Come with us!”
Amita nodded slightly before grabbing a novel she had lying around and burying her nose inside.
“What are you reading?” Lily asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder.
Amita flinched at the close proximity and took a deep breath, trying to remind herself that it was a new year and everyone was trying to make friends. The prying in her personal space would quickly stop.
“I don’t know,” she pitifully lied before opening their door to the common room, “Found it in the library somewhere.” Amita took a few steps away from Lily before turning back to face the Prefect.
“Oh.”
And just like that, their conversation was over. Amita rubbed her wrist.
She trailed slightly behind the two girls as they made their way to the Great Hall, not wishing to be caught in the student body’s painfully obvious staring.
Marlene and Lily were popular with those who liked them, but with the looming threat of the war, their clear opposition to Voldemort garnered hatred from a few. In either case, the two girls were constantly being watched.
Amita knew she could never escape it. She was already involved too deep in the war, but until they pulled her away from her peace and tortured her to predict deaths, she was going to be unbothered by it. Ignore it.
That’s what she did best.
When they arrived in the Great hall, it was already pretty packed, but Lily still tried sitting the furthest from James Potter. To her disappointment, however, the boy glided from his place across the bench and sat next to her anyway. Peter stifled a laugh at his friend’s antics.
Amita, having no other place to sit, slithered next to Remus where James used to sit.
“Good morning Amita,” Remus spoke softly with a small smile.
The girl, surprised, answered quickly, “You too.” Before opening her book once more and continuing her reading.
Maybe she should try becoming friendlier this year.
***
6th year was the first N.E.W.T. year.
There were those—like Lily or Remus—who took on the most possible subjects, interested in learning at a higher level. Then there were those, highly gifted students, who took on just as many because of their career choices—James, Sirius or Marlene. And finally, there were those who were happily dropping the classes they had more difficulty in—like Peter and Amita.
Amita was delighted to notice that she only had half as many subjects as she did last year and most of her weekdays ended near noon.
After inspecting Lily’s timetable with a pleased grin, James placed his chin on Amita’s shoulder and peeked over at her schedule.
“No charms?” He mumbled in confusion, before grabbing her paper to have a better look. “But pretty much everyone is taking charms… It’s a requirement for almost every Wizarding job.”
Amita hated James’ new-found curiosity for her and flinched as she noticed Sirius’ harsh gaze.
The pureblood chuckled at her discomfort. “Perhaps Lady Rowle already has plans for the future—some that don’t include employment for the foreseeable future, perhaps.”
James removed his head from Amita and look at his best friend in confusion, even Remus didn’t seem to understand what he was entailing.
But Amita had.
Lady Rowle.
The name had always left a bitter feeling on her tongue.
Amita raised her pitiful Occlumency shields as best she could and smiled patronizingly. “Heir Black, you’d be happy to hear that I do in fact have plans for the future, none of which concern you.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the Great Hall.
“Why would you call him that?” James snapped, startling Amita out of her mental shields. “What was that all about, Amita?”
Right.
How could she possibly forget?
They weren’t her friends, they were Sirius’.
Amita felt her mouth go dry, unable to answer. Instead, she ripped her schedule out of James’ hands and walked out of the Great Hall and towards Greenhouse D.
She knew she’d be too early for class, but hopefully Sprout would take pity on her and let her in anyways.
Amita walked through the court yard, the cold morning breeze making her shiver slightly. She paused as she neared the Grounds’ gate and opened her small bag, pulling out a pair of woven mittens.
Lady Cardania, her boss, had gifted the pair to her and had made sure a containment charm had been cast on them to keep in her body warmth. It didn’t look particularly muggle-y as her other gifts had been and Amita suspected the woman had woven them for her herself. She felt a smile tug at her lips as she continued on her way out of the school gates and towards the outside grounds.
Greenhouse D was Amita’s favourite. She had been there only once—for detention, but that’s trivial information—, but she had been rendered speechless at the immense array of coloured plants and flowers.
It hadn’t been how dangerous the plants were or how imposing they seemed to be, but rather their aggressive tints that convinced Amita to sign up for NEWTs level Biology in the first place.
Greenhouse D held nothing, but deadly poisonous plants, the most notable being the Venomous Tentacula. The plant would writhe and cling to you annoyingly before pricking you with its spike and killing you instantly.
Delightful, truly.
“Do you like me?” Amita heard from her left and turned around only to be met with Aiden Carrow’s oddly serious-looking face. “‘Cause I’m afraid I’ve been betrothed to another for a good decade now. You can stop the stalking.”
Amita ignored him and kept walking towards the Greenhouse, her strides suddenly wider.
“Don’t ignore me!” He shouted, running after her.
Amita walked faster, her wide walking strides slowly turning into running ones.
“Stop following me!” She finally snapped. “You’re the one always following me around!”
She finally reached the Greenhouse and grasped the handle. The doorknob rattled under the force, but did not open. She shakily searched for her wand in her robe pocket and uttered a small, “Alohamora”, when Aiden grasped her gloved hand, pulling her towards him.
Amita panicked. He was too close.
“Step back,” she muttered, her other free hand raised in a protective gesture.
Aiden simply panted, trying to regain his breath after the running.
“Don’t touch me,” Amita spoke louder, the distinct tremor in her voice startling the boy who instinctively let go.
As he did, the girl took a step back, her back pressed on the greenhouse door.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Carrow snapped, “you make me out to be the bad guy!”
Amita held back the disbelieving laugh that tried to pry her lips open.
“Stop it!” Carrow bellowed.
“Will you just leave me alone!” Amita yelled, her tremors slowly subsiding. “I don’t care about you at all! You just like to feel like the victim!”
Amita barely had time to register the sound of the fist hitting the greenhouse door that Carrow was already gone.
***
Sirius hated how conniving Amita was.
He had never heard a word from her or about her, and now, barely a day in the school year, James was already treating her like an honorary member of the Marauders.
She was a Sacred 28. That whole lot was spoiled, rotten apples plucked from a whole rotten tree. Being a Gryffindor would never change any of that. Not for him and certainly not for Amita Rowle.
He had tried to put aside his suspicions, but he just couldn’t. Something about her simply felt, wrong.
Sirius climbed the stairs to their dorm room and approached the bed next to his. A quick flick of the wand, and James’ trunk opened. Sirius started rummaging through the contents and cursed the Potters’ seemingly endless expansion charm. Finally, his fingertips brushed thick parchment and he closed the suitcase.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
***
Lily stood along with Amita and Remus at their worktable in front of the most vivid green plant she had ever seen.
“This is not grass, but rather Knotgrass,” Sprout laughed heartily along with a few other students. Lily at least gave an awkward chuckle, but Amita seem too entranced by the colour to listen to the Professor.
“I know most of you have also taken the NEWTs Potion Class with Slughorn,” she started, “this plant is most notable for its use in which potion?”
A few hands shot up, but none as quickly as Lily’s.
“Yes, Miss Evans?”
“Polyjuice, Professor.”
“Precisely! 10 points to Gryffindor.” Sprout walked over to her table and grabbed the plant’s pot, effectively breaking Amita’s misplaced concentration. Lily stifled a giggle at the confused look on her face. “This plant here is responsible for the bonding that happens when you ingest the potion. I will not impede too much on my colleague’s subject, but I will say this much: some wizards believe that when you drink the potion, you temporarily become someone else. As in, your very existence merges with that of another.”
The class was deadly silent, and Lily was frantically taking notes under an amused Remus’ stare.
“Well,” Sprout dismissed with a shrug, “for my part. I think it’s a mostly rubbish hypothesis. Nonetheless, that’s why Knotgrass Mead is so popular nowadays. It is said that drinking it from the same glass as your unrequited love will make them understand the truthfulness of your feelings.”
Lily scoffed absentmindedly before turning to Remus. “Please don’t give him any ideas,” she whispered.
The boy smirked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re just as bad—“
“Yes, Amita?” Sprout inquired. The redheaded perfect turned tense in fear of having been caught talking.
“Do they believe the Knotgrass bonds souls or simply bodies?”
Lily sighed in relief and turned around to face Sprout, curious about the answer she could provide.
“5 points to Gryffindor for the good question!” Sprout laughed. “I truthfully don’t know! Soulbonds in general are a delicate branch of magic; one we unfortunately do not include in the Hogwarts school corpus. Now, please put on your dragon-hide gloves, the Knotgrass is incredibly corrosive in its unfermented form.”
Lily slowly wiggled her fingers through her gloves, head elsewhere. What even is a Soul-bond? She feared they were like muggle soulmates and shuddered at the thought that James might have been convinced all along that they were soul-bonded.
How could you know if you were bonded? Could she find definite proof they weren’t and show it to James? Would he let it go then?
But what if we actually are? Lily barely dared to think.
“Amita?” Lily cleared her throat as she noticed Remus leave their table to go talk with Sprout, already regretting what she was about to ask. The girl turned around to face her with wide eyes, her curly hair now in a bun. “You’re pureblood, aren’t you?”
Amita scoffed and mumbled under her breath, “Unfortunately.”
Lily heard her clearly, but dismissed her claim. Who wouldn’t want to be brought up with all the knowledge of their world? “Then you must know what soul bonds are?” She fiddled with her gloves absentmindedly.
Amita hadn’t moved or reacted to her question, simply looked at her appraisingly. Then finally, something seemed to click and an amused smile fell on her lips as she returned to their Knotgrass pot. “They aren’t what muggles call ‘soulmates’, don’t worry.”
Lily sighed deeply and was met with the girl’s chuckle. She found she quite liked how it sounded, it wasn’t haughty like the other purebloods she had met.
“Is this about James?”
The redheaded girl tensed, and placed a lock of her hair behind her ear, trying desperately to avoid the other Gryffindor’s surely curious look.
“It’s none of my business,” she dismissed, “really.”