chapter two
As I watched my father slowly turning smaller and smaller, leaving behind the station, my thoughts began to wander. Wander to the books which he had so religiously read during the summer up until now. Getting through the first two years of material had been a breeze, practically a blink in history. My body already had the knowledge of -at least the basics- what was inside, only as I got farther into the second year, especially the subjects which the previous user of my body didn’t favor, the challenge increased and I took longer to memorize what was in the books. History and Potions were the hardest. The first I could’ve gone without -though my thirst for knowledge didn’t allow me to ignore it-, whilst the second, as uninteresting as snape made the subject, was much more vital to my continued success.
When I was done with the second year material, I went over to my third year books. Starting with the core subjects, I sped through Transfiguration, hiked on the trail known as charms and more or less crawled along with the other subjects, I barely finished all the core subjects before this fated day. Of course I didn’t read any of Lockhart's books. The electives, I chose to ignore in favor of my father’s books. Two on practical transfiguration and one on curses as well as counter curses.
Looking at my electives, I was more than satisfied with what prior marcus had selected, Study of Ancient runes and Divination.
Now, Divination was more or less dogshit but with the time I saved by taking it -which otherwise would’ve been spent memorizing charts in arithmancy or useless facts about muggles in muggle studies- I could do much good. Surviving was more important than having two good subjects to focus on.
My memories wandered further along as the train left kingscross far behind, leaving me to my thoughts with no friends or the like to distract me. Friends… something I didn’t have in this life or the last. I’d never been all too social, neither was Marcus. He was on friendly terms with most of his house mates but never truly was a friendship born of these connections. I didn’t even recognise most of them from the potterverse, the only name which held any significance to me was the one of cho chang. Admittedly a cute girls, which undoubtedly was why Harry would have a crush on her in the years to come, but nothing more. Cho was -much like myself before the merging- a rather mediocre student.
She mostly got by with A’s or EE’s, though her charmwork was exceptional. Really, she was most distinguished in her flying, making it on the ravenclaw Quidditch team in her second year and getting the team victory after victory. The only one able to beat her last year had been harry himself, though this year -if my memory served me well- the slytherin’s would be a greater threat.
It was funny really, how Ravenclaw was so often overlooked in the books, when last year we had almost won the quidditch cup. Why was it never mentioned in the books, I wonder. They always overplayed the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry, whilst ignoring the other two houses.
Now, admittedly, Hufflepuff wasn’t as good at quidditch as we were but it was still weird that only the seekers were mentioned in the books, as the other members were important too. Truly, their station as seeker was the only reason why Cho and Cedric were even mentioned before Harry’s fourth year.
On the subject of my house mates, there are rather few in my year. Excluding myself, there are only three third year ravenclaws, by far the fewest amongst the current third years. Slytherin had five, Gryffindor seven and Hufflepuff eleven. Ravenclaw was also the least populated house over all. In my year, there was Eddie, A muggleborn wizard who often fought with the weasley twins, Cho, seeker on the quidditch team, Marietta, A pureblooded witch with family in the ministry and myself.
I too was a pureblood, though first generation pureblooded, very much unlike the likes of Malfoy or Black, families who were wizards through and through for generations. My grandparents were all half bloods or purebloods, making me in turn, a pureblood. This is how the system works, how it has worked for generations upon generations. If your grandparents and all your grandparents were at least half bloods, you were a pureblood. Even the child of two squibs could thusly be a pureblood, if the stars stand good and he was blessed with the kindness which is magic.
It was still weird, feeling magic running through my veins. It gave an almost unending feeling of power and superiority, as if reality begged to be molded by my hand. For someone who’d lived a muggle life, it was exceptional, wonderful and, most of all, frightening. Essentially, I had the power of a nuke at my fingertips and so did every other person around me, all you’d need to wipe out millions of people was the right incantation to pass your lips, the right intent to slither across your mind.
Yet, as frightening as it was, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Magic was too powerful, too intoxicating to be simply thrown away.
It was addicting, the rush of casting a spell and it only got so much better with stronger, more complex spells. It was a torture not to cast something.
Now I understood why so many adult witches and wizards did everything using magic, from dressing themselves, to cooking lunch. I could truly understand it, for it was the best feeling in the world.
A knock on the compartment door ripped me from my musing, bringing me back to reality, back to the second year standing at my door. It was none other than Hermione Granger herself, standing there, one arm on the door frame, looking around much confused, “I’m most terribly sorry but have you seen Ron Weasley or Harry Potter, I can’t find them anywhere on the train”
“I have not”, I replied, laughing in my mind, knowing exactly where the two were right about now, several hundred feet above us, flying through the sky in an enchanted muggle car, “Maybe ask his brothers, I am sure the twins know where their youngest brother is… maybe they missed the train? Happens every few years from what I gather, my dad once missed the train. In his sixth year I recall, too busy talking to my uncle to get on the platform in time”
“That does sound like them”, she muttered to herself, before leaving me alone, calling back, “thank you for the help regardless”
“No problem”
I turned my attention back to the window, where mountains, forests and fields of grass sped by, Kingscross long out of sight.