Young Liars

The next morning Blaise failed to show up at the library. Eleanor did not see him sitting by the Slytherin table either.

This would have left her wondering whether he was mad she didn’t come to see him last night, if it wasn’t for the dread she felt for later tonight.

At night, the inability to fall asleep quickly had her thinking about Malfoy’s request. Such a strange one. He was good at nonverbal magic from what she had seen in class. Nothing out of the ordinary but still better than many others. Why would he need her help? Turning from one side to the other and flipping the pillow she pondered.

It must have been 3 A.M. when Eleanor also realized they failed to set a place for their meetings. Now hiding in the depths of the library with music playing in her ears, she hoped at best he would forget, or at least fail to locate her.

…You don't know me…

The essay for Transfiguration was halfway done when the clock struck 7 P.M. A small smile crept on her face at the thought of successfully getting out of her plans tonight.

…Bet you'll never get to know me…

She sighed and placed the quill down. Her hand had started to hurt from writing so fast. She could hear Holly’s voice - slow down!

…You don't know me at all…

Holly… Holly, Holly, Holly. What class did she have now? Or was she eating breakfast? Holly must be first in her class. First of Thunderbirds, now that Eleanor was away. They always competed for the first palace, but never in mean spirits. It fluctuated too. In spring it was usually Holly, while fall was for Eleanor.

Eleanor found it easier to get good grades in fall. There was a reason her mom started new hobbies or routines in September - weeks that are uninterrupted - free from Holidays and days-off in the middle of the week. Falling into a school routine and studying hard felt natural in fall. But after the Christmas break, Eleanor would come back and fall out of her rhythm. That’s when Holly would take over.

Holly’s birthday was in late May and her parents used to motivate her by promising trips all over the country if she’d get good grades. It was silly of them - Holly did not need external motivators to achieve what she wanted to. But receiving a trip for her birthday each year just because her grades were fantastic? Holly never complained.

Slowly rubbing her right wrist Eleanor pushed herself out with the chair and looked at all the books around her. Would Hogwarts have Shakespeare, Plato, or Ovid? Ilvermorny did. A large collection of classics (even if this library was bigger). No-maj or not - didn’t matter, you could find it all.

Taking off her headphones she walked toward a paper hanging on the side of one of the bookshelves, passing the only other student in this section of the library. But the girl was already packing her bags. They came here around the same time.

The paper looked like it had been hanging there for many years. Yellowed with faded ink. The bottom was torn off.

14 - European History of Magic
15 - North and South American History of Magic
16 - Ancient Runes
17 - Muggle Fiction
18 - Muggle Comedies and Tragedies
19 - Muggle Philosophy
20 - Muggle History
21 - Muggle Classics

“Eighteen, nineteen…” Eleanor whispered to herself and looked around.

To her left, in black a bookshelf was marked - 16. Ancient Runes. She walked straight until another number showed up - 17. Muggle Fiction. A few more steps and she reached number 18. The muggle fiction section was short but it seemed like the Comedy and Tragedy section was even smaller. Just one bookshelf.

With a sigh, not sure of relief or annoyance, Eleanor started looking for Shakespeare.

Her fingers traced along many books. A’s… Oh there was Aristophanes… She smiled. B’s… She skipped through the rest. P’s… S.

The S’s started at the bottom of the bookshelf, half transferring back to the top of the next bookshelf. And there it was. “Merchant of Venice”. That was a fun one. She read it with other Thunderbirds of her year, during one weekend before leaving for the Christmas holiday (their pre-Christmas parties were always the best). She played Shylock and shook her head, laughing in disbelief at the very end. Guilda was Launcelot. Holly was Portia. Everybody laughed that evening.

“Twelfth Night”. She read that one a long time ago. Must have been on one of those reading lists her dad used to make her for the summers.

“Here you are.” Eleanor whispered as she took “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” out from the shelf. A little bit dusty, the top, but in great condition nonetheless. It was her favorite.

It could be the Greek setting or the characters she already knew about. Or maybe because it was the first Shakespeare book she decided to read on her own. Others were brought to her with her dad’s lists or events she had at school, but this one - she bought it herself. It was a pretty book so of course it caught her eye at one of the bookstores in Salem.

Having forgotten about Draco and with the book in hand, she returned to her desk. With the headphones on she opened the book, drifting away. Sometimes she would lift her eye off of the book, glancing at the students coming and going, searching for books, and leaving with stacks. If someone were to ask - Eleanor would say she was just getting distracted, but it was Draco she was searching for, hoping he’d stay far away from the library.

But he must have noticed where she spent most of her time these days - 50 pages in, someone dragged a chair next to her. Sighing, she knew he had found her.

“Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear–” Eleanor slid down her headphones, so they lay around her neck, and read out loud. “–as yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere…” she closed the book before even finishing reading and placed it on the desk. She knew that line by heart already. And she knew the page it was on, making the return to the book later - easier.

Draco had his left hand on the chair, pulling it to himself slightly so the front legs were lifted into the air, while his right hand found safety in his pocket like usual. He was silent, staring her down.

“Evening, Draco.” Eleanor leaned back and crossed her arms. Faint music could be heard coming from her headphones. Johnny Cash.

Draco let go of the chair and slid his hand into the other pocket, leaning back against the desk. The desk stumbled a moment as he put his weight on it. He was wearing the same knit from last night. The knit. It looked expensive. The kind you’d see rich parents dress at Cape Cod when going out to walk their royal dogs they imported from Spain.

“What’s that?” Draco stopped the study of the knit. Maybe he felt her gaze, crossing his arms. But she picked up on the slight curiosity in his voice. Although it was truly silly to think he would want to read a book written by a no-maj.

“Fortune’s fool I am, Malfoy.” she sighed again and took the headphones off of her neck, placing them on her lap. “It’s Shakespeare. Another one that would set you ablaze.”

Draco reached out for the book and sat next to her. Slowly turning the pages, but only stopping to read the character list, he frowned. “Midsummer Night’s Dream?” he raised his brows. “You read too much of this–” he paused and rubbed his eyes, leaning back on the chair so the front lifted off the ground ever so slightly. “–muggle crap.”

Eleanor slowly exhaled. She wasn’t sure if she had enough patience to work with him. Every moment he opened his mouth would be a moment of annoyance for Eleanor. “Well,” she pressed her lips together and leaned back. “You don’t read en–”

“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” all four of his chair feet now touched the ground again. The thud made a sound louder than he might have hoped for - his eyes gave it away.

“I wasn’t hiding.” she was. “Not that many places to hide in the library, are there now?”

He did not say a thing, just flipped the pages quicker now.

“You didn’t tell me the place.” she pushed her fringe out of the way, behind her ears most of it could stay now.

Sometimes Eleanor would fill in the quiet gaps in the conversation. She wasn’t a fan of this trait of hers, but it would happen without much of her control. To allow herself to stay silent was a nightmare when talking to people who weren’t quite her friends yet. Well, she wasn’t sure there would be a “yet” with Draco. She could stay quiet for hours next to Holly or Guilda, just not anyone here yet. Yet. She hoped.

“I thought it was clear we meet in the same place. Like last night.”

“Must be a cultural thing.” she tried to joke. “Use your words next time, big boy.” and gave him a thin smile before looking out the window. It was already dark, their reflection more visible than anything else outside. Somewhere in the distance, the bottom of the sky was lighter than the rest.

“Use your brains next time.” Malfoy stood from his chair. “Come on.” and leaned against the desk again.

Fortune’s fool she was. Maybe just a fool.

“Where are we going?”

“To practice.”

“I asked where.” she stood up and pushed her chair in.

“You’ll see.”

Idiot.

Eleanor slowly gathered her papers and put away her quill. She took her time reaching for the Walkman. Malfoy scoffed, watching her handle the device. And she was going to take even more time taking the book back. Closer to the curfew. That’s all she wanted.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” he followed her when she disappeared behind bookshelves, looking (ITALICS) for the Comedy section. Wrong section.

“I’m not.” she smirked without his notice. “You know all the muggle books fucked with my head…”

With a quick groan, he walked back to the start of the bookshelf, where the paper with the numbering was hanging

“You’re at the wrong one.” he stepped into her view again, nodding toward another section further down.. Draco looked like the final villain, blocking the only way out. A Minotaur in the maze. Why was Theseus on her mind today?

Tall, lean, and cold. Maybe not truly a villain, who really is at that age. But somewhere close.

“Oh.” she stood up, knees tense from the crouching. “Thanks.”

He moved out of the way as she came closer. Eleanor gripped the book harder, maybe it was an instinct, trying to protect it like she wished she had the letters.

“You see, it’s easy to move out of the way.”

He didn’t say anything, walking behind her again, arms crossed. Just stopping right before entering the section. She guessed the word “muggle” barred him from going in deeper. Silly.

And there. The number 18. And the empty spot under the letter S. Pushing the book back in she made sure she was careful. Such a sparse collection here, better take care of it.

“Lead the way.” Eleanor stood up and was following him now through the narrow gaps.

As they exited the library, Draco started walking faster, taking her through various corridors and stairs. There were still plenty of students around, hanging out together, strolling somewhere. Maybe there were even secret parties. The school is big enough for that. It was Friday after all.

“Where’s Blaise?” Eleanor asked, trying to catch her breath after the many stairs they just took.

A grin appeared on Draco’s face. “Zabini failed to show up, didn’t he, Eleanor?”

“Didn’t see him in class either.” she ran for a second to catch up to him. She was still having a harder time with the amount of stairs this school had. And Draco’s massive steps.

“Zabini is down at the Hospital Wing. A fever or something. Didn’t ask.”

“He seemed okay last night.” she frowned. How do you get so sick that you need to go see the doctor in just one night? But Eleanor did not realize the last time she was sick was a year and a half ago. Others weren’t that lucky.

Draco shrugged. “I win against him every time.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes and laughed. Was he talking about chess? “Chess?”

He nodded.

“Maybe if you were pleasant to be around, more people would want to play with you and Blaise wouldn’t be the only one to suffer a loss. Or a win most probably.” a light jab.

Draco scoffed before stopping. They were in an empty hallway. Maybe the 6th or 7th floor. She lost count after the 4th.

“Stand here.” he squinted before taking a few steps closer to the wall on the left.

She wasn’t going to question it. If he wanted to investigate something - good. That’s less time practicing. Leaning back against the other wall, with her bag in her hand, Eleanor turned and looked further down the hallway. Where was he taking her? One of the towers or–

Her attention was drawn back to Draco when she heard a similar sound to the one before entering Diagon Alley, the moving bricks. To her surprise, an entrance was forming on the opposite wall.

“What?” Eleanor laughed in disbelief, shaking her head slightly. “As if the school can’t get any weirder.”

Draco tried to hide his grin for a moment before opening the door and gesturing for Eleanor to come inside. “Quick.” he looked around.

“Is this like a secret training room?” she asked with her eyes wide open.

He did not say a thing. Just shrugged.

The inside was different from what Eleanor was expecting. Piles of various things stacked so high they could count as walls. Many bookshelves and cabinets all around. It looked like one of those antique stores downtown where gold frames and china sets were most searched for. Carefully looking around Eleanor studied almost every item. A globe that opened to store liquor, many, many chairs, an old grandfather clock…cobwebs. More cobwebs and paintings.

“What is this place?” she finally turned back to Draco. It wasn’t a big practice hall or a ballroom she had in mind. This was… less elegant. But far more interesting. “A storage?”

“Room of Hidden Things.” the boy walked past her, looking for something himself.

“Hidden Things?” she repeated, lifting her head up. The ceiling was tall, hiding more interesting items up there. “Is this… a classroom?”

Malfoy scoffed. “No.”

“Don’t be a dick. I have no–”

“It’s not. And I’m not.” he turned left. Eleanor followed.

They walked in silence, passing many more golden frames, broken chairs and forgotten heirlooms… rolled up rugs, piles of books… The majority of the things there were broken beyond repair (except for magic repair, she reasoned). Chairs left with three legs, and desks lying on their sides. The clocks didn’t work either. Frozen in time. Just like the rest.

Draco walked funny. His hands always in his pockets. “We will practice here.” he finally spoke, stopping in front of a tall cabinet. It looked abandoned. Everything looked abandoned. “There’s a desk here.” his hand brushed the light hair back. “Chairs too.”

“Right.” Eleanor sighed and placed her bag on one of the chairs. At least it wasn’t broken.

The room was quiet. You could hear a fly bump into one of the lights.

“I guess I just don’t quite understand what you need help with. You seem to be doing okay.” she sat down on the other chair, leaving Malfoy standing.

“I need to be perfect.” he slowly walked around the cabinet.

“I’m not perfect at it.” she was surprised by how wrong he was.

“Close enough. I know when Professor Snape is… surprised.” he shrugged before fiddling with the handles of the cabinet.

Eleanor was glad his head was turned. She was smiling. Just how important validation from teachers that seemed to dislike the most was… something she’d rather keep a secret.

“So…” after a long pause, she began. Again! She should have let him speak first.

“How’s Potter making all the potions?” he came from around the cabinet again. His voice was full of disdain.

She smirked. “Jealous?”

“Pff.” Draco scoffed and brought another chair from somewhere behind the cabinet, sliding it next to the one with Eleanor’s bag on it. Now the bagged chair separated the two of them. “He never was that good. Who’s– or what’s– helping him?”

“Don’t know.” Eleanor sighed. She was sure Draco would tell on Harry, and she would lose her source of knowledge too.

Draco squinted at her. Of course, he knew she was lying–

“Where do you want to start?” Eleanor quickly asked.

This was a new low. Will make an interesting letter to her friends at least.

Draco mocked. “Where do I want to start?” he mocked, but without a reaction from Eleanor he sighed and nodded at her. “How about– well, we don’t have time for much–” he scoffed, of course she was to blame in his eyes, and looked down at his watch. It was round with a dark brown band. Looked fancy. Just like his knit. “–how about you tell me again, like you did the class the other day, why are you so good at nonverbal magic.”

Eleanor frowned. “That’s your question? I already said, we learned it last year–”

“And you practiced with your mom?”

She glared. “Do you always cut people off when they’re talking?”

“Usually.”

A sigh. Eleanor leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yes. I practiced with my mom. But it was after I learned enough at school.”

He mirrored her, leaning back himself just crossing the ankles instead of the arms (his were in the pockets again) and nodded for her to go on after a few seconds of silence.

“Yearning for a history lesson, Draco?” she smirked.

“Fine by me.” the boy shrugged as if he was bored. Some dust flew by his face.

“Did you know Ilvermorny was partially founded by a no-maj?” with a slight frown from Malfoy, she corrected herself. “A muggle.”

Another shrug. “And what does it have to do with nonverbal magic?”

“Well, the two of them, the no-maj, James and Isolt, a Ravenclaw, taught many Native Americans– now I question if you even know who they were–”

“I know who the Native Americans were.” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Surprising!” she mocked, trying to hide the genuine surprise. “I think it was the Wampanoag and… Narragansett tribes?” she might be making a mistake. “Either way, the Native Americans did not use wands to perform magic while the Europeans did at that point.”

“They performed wandless magic.”

“Mhm. Nonverbal mainly. Not to mention plants and animals. And in return for being taught wandwork, they shared their knowledge on nonverbal magic with the rest.” she crossed her legs. “Even the houses. Thunderbird is important to the Native Americans. It’s said to create thunder just by flapping its wings.”

Another scoff.

“Why are you laughing?” she chuckled herself. “You asked.”

“Go on.”

“A Thunderbird can also create lightning. And lighting has to be grounded, doesn’t it, Draco?” he shrugged again, switching which leg was on top. “Now if the Thunderbird rules the upper world, the underworld is controlled by the Horned Serpent. Another house of ours. The life and heart of it are under the seventh spot from its head. Smart ones. It favors scholars of course.”

“Must have been disappointed when you were sorted into Thunderbird.” Draco raised his brows playfully, he was mocking.

“No I wasn’t.” she rolled her eyes. Eleanor was being honest. Wampus was what she was hoping for, going after her mom. “Then there is Wampus. After the Wampus Cat. Too strong, too fast, tears wiped the memory, eyes could read your mind. I think the Cherokee studied it the most.”

“Sounds brilliant. Must be the Gryffindors of your school.” he sneered. “What do they favor? Heroes?”

“Silly.” she sighed. A common assumption these days. “They’re not. And they favor warriors.” another scoff. “Now Pukwudgie is named after the Pukwudgies. Little creatures, mischievous ones. But the House favors healers.” he frowned, crossing his arms. “Strange, I know.”

“You didn’t tell me what your house favors.”

“Adventurers.”

“Of course.” he groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“So you can see how the Native Americans are integral to our school. Their teachings happened to be so too. We start learning about it, history, importance and all, during our first year but only during our fifth can we actually start practicing it.”

“And practicing at home?” he was particularly interested in this fact, sitting up straight.

“If you get your permission. Got mine from my parents immediately, school too. Mainly because my grades were good. I think.” she exhaled, rubbing her upper arm. It was chilly here. “And then I spent some time during the holidays practicing with my mom. She’s an expert.” if her dad was great with potions, her mom was perfect with nonverbal magic. “Do you remember the time she had to take you back home when you lost your tooth?” Eleanor chuckled quietly.

Draco managed to lose a tooth while swinging on the swings her dad built in the gardens. They broke the last summer she was there.

“Right…” he looked around. “My dad–” he paused and looked at the cabinet.

Right. His dad. A prisoner at Azkaban.

“Yeah.” she nodded. Her talent of not allowing silence disappeared. “I don’t know what else– we can see if I know some jinxes you don’t, that we can try– of course, pain free ones.” she let out a short laugh, stopping herself quickly. She did feel a lot of pain from the Pungo jinx. His reaction during the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class was now justified in her head.

Draco scoffed. He must be thinking about the same jinx. “Tomorrow. There isn’t that much time left.” he tapped his thighs lightly and stood up. Of course that was directed at her wasting his precious time.

“Remember, I have the–”

“When you’re done.” he put his hands on his neck, almost kneading it, like dough. Must be sore. “We meet here in the hallway.”

He won’t leave it up to interpretation again.

“How do you get in here?” she tried to divert, following him out. She was sure they took a slightly different route this time, but maybe the amount of things everywhere was playing with her perception.

Draco scoffed. “Why? Want to spend your time here?”

“Shouldn’t I know how to enter the place I’ll be spending my time in?” she walked faster for a moment, coming to his right side. “It’s a good spot for reading too.”

“I’m not telling you.” he moved his hand around. “You didn’t tell me how Potter’s making those potions.”

Now she scoffed. “Like I’d–” her right foot kicked a golden frame to the ground on accident.

Draco shot his foot out to catch the frame from completely sliding under their feet. “Can you at least try to be careful?” his voice was colder again.

“I can count six other identical frames here.” Eleanor rolled her eyes and bent down to place the frame back against some old chairs stacked on top of one another.

As her fingers grazed the frame, she squinted. The frame was beautiful up close, little birds and snakes going in circles, flowers and ivies playing tag with each other, coming real close, intertwining and leaving again, reaching the farthest corners.

“A lovely frame I just kicked.” she smirked and carefully placed it back up. “My dad bought a similar one from Greece.”

“Greece?” he almost sounded like he was mocking again. But she could tell he wasn’t.

“Athens. When you read Plato that’s when we’ll talk.”

“We aren’t now?” he scoffed and opened the door.

Eleanor chuckled. “You’re deep in the cave, Draco. A bliss of ignorance.”

He did not seem to understand what she meant, so she walked up, while he descended.

Eleanor was spending her Saturday evening in the common room. She managed to make up a lie to a first-year girl, saying they own Thunderbirds back in Boston. Younger kids managed to be the ones asking most of the questions so when it got boring hearing the same question over and over again, Eleanor would make something up.

And she slept well last night, putting her into a more playful mood.

“Flip to the next one.” Harry looked at Eleanor’s copy of the infamous Potions book that she held in her hand. They were comparing the instructions for Monday’s class.

Hermione was visibly annoyed, glaring at the book, and Harry. The spectacular Potions book was the talk of the evening for a few days now.

She enjoyed the three, but it’s hard to feel welcome in a friend group that was together since their first-year (Ron mentioned it). And again, she did not want to pry, better just to be glad they were being friendly.

Once in a while Eleanor would remember Harry’s Cloak that turned him invisible on the train. She wanted to know more about it, maybe try it on, but it seemed like it was a prized possession of sorts. She knew it would take time for him to even talk about it around her again, not to mention let her hold it.

But things like that seemed to follow the boy. The Cloak, now this book. Voldemort of course.

“Every single one is crossed.” Eleanor shook her head in disbelief after noticing she was staring at it in silence for too long.

This chapter of Harry’s copy was soaked in black ink. Each step was modified completely. It also seemed that it took the person many tries to perfect it. Some ink looked older than the rest, faded. Some were darker, closer to how her notebook looked from last year.

“You should take it back, Harry.” Hermione sighed and sat next to Ron.

“Mhm.” Harry was showing Eleanor more crossed out words, barely listening. Black ink was seeping through the pages, obscuring the original instructions.

Eleanor flipped another page to inspect, holding her own copy of the book in the other hand. And Ron was quietly copying off of Hermione.

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice was firm, trying to get the boy’s attention.

“Alright Hermione!” Harry sat up straight. “I just want to know who wrote all this.”

Eleanor sat up too, searching for the time on the wall.

7:20 PM.

“Shit.” she had to leave earlier, giving herself time to get lost, just in case. “I’ll write to my dad tomorrow– to ask. I’ll be back.”

“Oh! Good luck!” Hermione waved her goodbye while Harry went to sit next to Ron, bringing ideas and theories to the table of the cheating. In front of them, Lavender was throwing her hands in the air, telling a story to her friend, but quickly glancing back at Ron and Hermione.

Eleanor told the three of her plans at the Headmaster’s office tonight. Harry reminded her that Acid Pops was the password. Of course - Professor Snape used it before her sorting.

And shared his plans with her too. 8 P.M. That gives her 30 minutes. An hour skipped with Draco. She hoped it would be more to no avail.

Eleanor was more nervous than she’d like to be. You know that feeling when you know you did something bad, or you’re about to have a serious conversation? She felt just like that. Slowly walking up the stairs. Eleanor did not do anything wrong, and she wasn’t this nervous the last time she was about to walk into the Headmaster’s office. So what was different this time?

She couldn’t say. Couldn’t explain. Sometimes her mind would make up things. What if she looks stupid in front of the Headmaster? What will they talk about? She bet if someone would see her now, they’d mistake her for a ghost.

The strange feeling of uneasiness was warm, washing over her slowly, creeping into her head. When this happens, she usually loses her appetite, starts to sweat even more. Dizzy. It’s right to describe it as a dizzy feeling. Eleanor doesn’t want to admit that she gets so nervous sometimes. That’s unlike her. Even more, she doesn’t want to admit that the wrong things get her nervous - opinions of professors usually or receiving letters from school (she is yet to receive an angry one). Being late too. Yet when she has to travel across the ocean, she’s sad, but not nervous.

“Stupid.” she mumbled to herself and started skipping every other step to get up faster. She can’t be late. And her visual memory can’t lie. And so It didn’t.

She must have been right on time when the old gargoyle statue at the end of one of the hallways came into view. “Acid Pops” she whispered. It sounded silly out loud.

Last time she got scared by the sudden movement of the statue, but this time she managed to stay still when the loud noises reached her ears. The same swirling staircase appeared. One deep breath in. And out. She walked up, thanking the Gods it was a weekend evening - no robes to trip over this time.

The door at the top was open and she could see the Headmaster reading something at his desk. “Ah, Miss Somerset, come sit.” he greeted her before she entered the room.

His voice was just as calm as last time. Another thing. The nervousness would disappear just as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Good evening.” she closed the door behind her and looked up.

A Phoenix.

There was a Phoenix in the room.

“Ah!” the Headmaster did not need to turn around to know who she was staring at. “This is Fawkes. Come sit.” he smiled and gestured at the chair opposite of him.

The bird was magnificent. Reminded her of Thunderbirds. Fawkes.

Fawkes was glaring back at her as she walked over to the desk, not noticing all the portraits watching her as well. The bird almost shined, emitting warmth. Could it burn her? Are they dangerous?

The wizard smiled the entire time it took Eleanor to settle down. His robes were dark blue this time, with silver detailing. If she wasn’t preoccupied by the bird, she’d note just how expensive the robes looked. And old. “Wonderful creatures, aren’t they?” he asked her, looking up through his small glasses.

She nodded, watching the bird move slightly to the side. The red of the bird was her favorite.

“I must hope you enjoyed your first week at Hogwarts?” the Headmaster caught her attention again by sounding quite curious, moving the book he was just reading to the side.

“Yes.” she nodded.

Silence.

“I thought it would be more difficult for me to– settle in. But I enjoyed everything so far.” Eleanor continued, feeling like her answer wasn’t sufficient enough for the Headmaster. Or maybe it was just her filling in the quiet gaps instead of shutting up.

The Headmaster smiled while puffing smoke appeared behind him. “The professors are quite pleased with your abilities–”

Eleanor tried to hide her smile, forgetting the bird for a moment.

“I’ve been told you are ahead with nonverbal magic?”

“If I had started at the age kids here did, I wouldn’t be– I just had more time to practice.” she went into defense while her voice got quieter with each word.

It’s weird to crave validation but cringe when it’s given.

A chuckle. “Take pride in that. Many great wizards had a difficult time learning the craft. You are doing well by your age.”

“Thank you– sir.”

Eleanor wasn’t sure what the purpose of the meeting was, but–

“Professor Slughorn tells me he had the pleasure of meeting your father. I must say, he was a magnificent student.” he started flipping pages of one of the books on his desk, searching for something.

Even the way he touched the book was too gentle. Rarely has Eleanor seen a wizard like that.

“I was able to find these.”

Eleanor watched his fingers press on a photograph, sliding it across the table for her reach. He slowly did the same for another three.

It was a photo of a Quidditch team - all Ravenclaws, waving at the camera. “‘72 Quidditch Cup Champions”. Eleanor smiled as she located her father in the front row, smiling with a proud look on his face, it was his last year, that she knew. He mentioned he was a Chaser, but she had already forgotten what the position implies.

While the photo stayed in her right hand for another moment, she took a hold of the second photo on the table. This time it was her father, holding some sort of award, and Professor Slughorn together. And it didn’t look like any classroom here in Hogwarts.

“Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic.” the Headmaster spoke as if he knew what she was thinking about. Beauxbâtons, she’d heard of it a few times, from her dad mainly. “Our most skilled students used to travel to France by the end of the year, you see, the school produces many great potion-masters. Naturally, your father made the trip that year.”

How did she not know that?

“I’ve never seen this picture before.” her mouth turned into a faint smile, taking the picture closer to her eyes.

Her dad had the same smile and she was pretty sure the knit was somewhere in her parents' closet back in Boston. The frames of his glasses were different, thicker and darker.

But Professor Slughorn stayed practically the same, holding onto his belly and laughing.

The last two photos laid upside down. “Slug Club’78 & Christmas Reunion” the first one read in black ink. Of course, her father was a part of the club. And she was sure he did not have famous parents to grant him an invite - he had to earn it.

There were over twenty students (and what seemed like graduates) standing behind Professor Slughorn, all holding glasses and dressed nicely. Looked like a Christmas party from the various decorations hanging around the room. Eleanor’s eyes searched for her dad, almost immediately locating him, standing to Professor Slughorn’s left - hands in his pockets and glasses pushed up all the way up to his eyes. He hated when they slid down (which was all of the time).

Eleanor did not pay attention to the Headmaster, who was carefully studying her, she was reading the last names on the bottom row …Gloria Pickett, Eldred Worple, Edward Somerset, Horace Slughorn, Lily Evans, and Rohan Delway.

Eleanor let out a faint chuckle, watching her dad wave at the camera. “He had fun.”

“Oh yes. That year Professor Slughorn hosted his Christmas party, inviting students that had already graduated, some many years ago.” he smiled at her before looking down at the last photo left.

“Slug Club‘70” it read. This time the ink was dark blue.

There were only five other students surrounding Professor Slughorn this time, who was sitting in the middle, in front of a table that she recognized from his classroom. It wasn’t of use now for students, storing piles of books and old cauldrons. Dust too.

Her dad was on the left holding a glass filled with some liquid she couldn’t identify. To Slughorn’s right - a familiar face of sorts. Eleanor squinted - the hair was a dead giveaway. Quickly scanning through the other three students she did not recognize, Eleanor went over the names at the bottom row again - Edward Somerset, Horace Slughorn, and Lucius Malfoy.

Bingo.

She knew it was his dad.

“Recognize anyone?” the Headmaster asked curiously, raising his eyebrows. So meticulous.

Eleanor shrugged. “My friend’s dad.”

Friend’s a strong word.

The Headmaster kept his eyebrows raised, waiting for Eleanor to continue, or at least that’s what she thought. “Lucius Malfoy.” she said quietly as if a secret. Where he resides now must be common knowledge.

“Once a great student, yes.” he assured her. “I shall not pry, but it seems like you have know Mr. Malfoy from before?”

Eleanor was slightly surprised by the question. How would he have known?

“Yes, sir. I spent my summers in a neighboring house until I was around ten.”

The Headmaster smiled faintly while Fawkes spread his wings to clean and poke at. “One must find our childhood friends to be more important than we think. Is Trillia Bevard still the Head of the Wampus house?” he changed subjects so effortlessly that Eleanor did not notice him completely taking the lead of the conversation, getting information out of her without much protest. He was Socrates while she was everybody else.

The way he looked while asking about Ilvermorny reminded her of an old person who was reminiscing about their early years. But to her knowledge, the Headmaster has never set foot in Ilvermorny.

Eleanor nodded. Professor Bevard was the Head of house when her mom was still in school. She must be of similar age to Dumbledore. “Mhm. But I heard she’s leaving in two years. To Asia someone said.”

It was an overheard conversation between two professors at Ilvermorny. She was getting breakfast, standing behind the two in line. It was an insightful conversation to overhear. Eleanor did eavesdrop a lot, without shame.

The Headmaster’s mouth twitched upward. “Brilliant. Your mother was chosen by the Wampus? I heard you learned a lot from her.”

Another nod. “Yes. She helped me practice nonverbal magic.”

“You can keep the pictures.” he nodded toward the four pictures in her hand. “Study the names, you might find something interesting reveal to you.” if you were to ask Eleanor then what the Headmaster’s words meant, she would have not noticed anything out of the ordinary. If you were to ask her now, she’d say just how suggestive he had been.

“Thank you, sir.” she was being genuine - the photographs were nice to have.

Now if only her mother had attended Hogwarts.

The Headmaster went on to ask her more about Ilvermorny. What was the curriculum, who were the other Head of houses, … It all had started to sound like a manual to Ilvermorny, just an audio version.

But it never got boring to her surprise - time went by quickly, and soon enough she had to get going.

“An informative conversation.” the Headmaster smiled at her and then at an old clock on the wall. 7:57 P.M. “If you excuse me– I have a meeting at 8. You know Mr. Potter?”

She nodded. Eleanor knew about his visit right after her.

“Very well.” he smiled again. His face showed what he wanted of her.

“Thank you for the invitation, sir.” Eleanor pressed her lips together and stood up, still confused as to what the point of this meeting was.

At the bottom of the staircase she met Harry himself, rushing over to where she was standing.

“Hi again.” she moved closer to the wall.

“Hi, Eleanor. I’m almost late, can we talk in the Common room?” with that, Harry walked up, skipping every other step.

She wasn’t getting ready to tell him anything at all, so his comment surprised her.

Walking toward their practice hideaway, Eleanor analyzed their fathers in the picture. Both smiling. She wondered if they knew what kind of future awaited both. She wonders if she knows.